Sam's shouting gradually stopped as Dean willed him to calm down, breaking the overwhelming fear that his brother felt from the residue of Hell, turning into silent tears. They slipped down the sides of his face and soaked his hair, eyes a little red from the pressure of trying to force the pain from within down and gain control. Opening his eyes, Dean's worried face hovered above his, blurry from tears. Missouri slowly removed her hands away from his head and placed them stiffly upon each lap. Depression seeped within, making her feel numb and as Sam sat up and swung his legs off of the sofa and planted his feet on the floor, Dean moved away and watched as Missouri sat in silence, pupils blown and eyes far away.

Another anguished cry resounded from the back of the house and it slammed the brothers into motion. Sam jogged out of the room with Dean in tow, leaving the psychic to drown in her head. There was nothing they could do for her right now—they had a brother to save.

Throwing the door open, Sam and Dean were surprised to see Adam in place of were the Demon once laid, dressed in the bloody rags it wore, just managing to cover up his privates. Dean went to grab a blanket whilst Sam unshackled his limbs as he shook them frantically. Adam's skin was freezing.

Dean wrapped the blanket tight around his torso and when Sam removed the last shackle on his right ankle, Adam flew off the spring bed and pressed himself tightly into a corner, whining like a dog.

Sam crept towards him his palms raised non-threatening, trying to reassure his brother that there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Hey, it's me remember? We got you out…"

Dean stood behind, nervously. The whining grew louder, but Sam continued to walk closer.

"Adam I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk."

Stopping in front of him, Adam cried deep and fierce and began scratching at his arms. Blood poured down his feral wounds and dripped down towards his elbows.

Sam rushed him holding on tight to his wrists, pleading him to calm down, but no matter how he tried he wasn't getting through to him. Adam bit and punched as hard as he could, trying to get Sam off of him. Dean came to help but only got the same treatment. They released him and stood before their brother huffing and puffing, watching Adam wrap himself tight in the blanket obscuring his face. He peeked at them through a gap in the fabric.

"Do you want something to drink? To eat?" Sam waited for an answer.

Adam remained silent.

Dean opened the cap off of his whiskey bottle and handed it to Missouri who was still sitting on the chair. Wiggling the bottle in her face finally caught her attention and Dean smiled bitterly as she came to. She took it quietly and drank a few large gulps, screwing her face up from the harsh bitter taste. With her eyes still closed tightly, she blindly handed it back huffing from lack of air and Dean gulped a few mouthfuls, enjoying the burn down his throat.

She turned to Dean. "I don't drink much…, or even think to. I'm one of those people that has a special bottle or two sitting around somewhere wrapped up in a brown paper bag for years," she shook her head, as if she couldn't believe the thought, "but being around you boys…"

Dean chuckled humourlessly. There wasn't anything he could say to that. Inside it angered him that that was the case for him and his brother; just coming into people's lives and turning everything upside down.

Missouri looked around in a slight daze. "Where's Sam?"

"He's in the bathroom cleaning his face up. You should too. There's dried blood all over it." Missouri brought her hand up to her face and rubbed it over the crunchy blood under her nose and on her mouth and chin. She looked down to see where the rest of it had bled into her mauve button-up blouse.

Sam shuffled in from the hallway and rested an arm on the doorway of the living room, limp above his head, his eyes hooded with exhaustion. He squinted at her with concern.

"Missouri, you okay?" She subconsciously held onto her arms, attempting to comfort herself from herself.

"No. I'm not sure I will be either." Sam nodded, solemn and understanding.

Dean sat in his wooden chair looking as if he didn't want to be part of anything. Sam picked up on his hunched shoulders and distant eyes trying to avoid his, which made him seem uncomfortable with himself. The whole atmosphere was weird and unnerving. Sam removed his arm from the doorway and rolled his shoulders back standing straight.

"Hey, er, I'm just gonna go talk to Adam." Sam looked at Dean, his face unreadable.

"You be careful."

"So you boys won't be needing me?"

Sam stopped mid turn and contemplated her. He shook his head.

"Nah. You can go whenever you please."

Missouri stood up and stretched. Boy she was relieved. Picking up her hand-bag with shaking hands, she strode over to Dean and taking him by surprise, pulled him into a fierce hug. He gently patted her on the back. Releasing him she looked at him with such empathy, a small lump formed in his throat and he coughed from the pressure. At that moment he could feel the heavy weight of the universe compressing down on his shoulders.

"I'm not too far away if you need me, alright?" Squeezing his biceps she let go and held onto Sam. He nervously patted her also.

"I'll speak to you later, Missouri." She smiled.

"You just worry about yourselves. The only way you boys can be strong as brothers is if you're both on the same page, fighting for the same cause. That's the only way you're gonna be able to beat this ride you're on." She chuckled. "You two have your issues; you don't need to be a psychic to figure that one out. Maybe you both need to hash it out or just move on from them but remember it's that bond that you boys have is what matters the most. Your Daddy counted on it."

Pulling at the hem of her cardigan, she waved them goodbye and stepped out into the evening fresh air, leaving the brothers feeling raw like open wounds.

It had only been two hours since Missouri had left to go home and Dean was already pissed off. All that 'looking out for each other' business Missouri was preaching about—out the window. Sam wasn't listening to anything he was saying because in his distress from Adam's distress he was flailing around like a headless chicken doing everything to help their brother, but it was plain to see—to Dean—that nothing he was doing was working. Whenever Dean tried to be of assistance, Sam would just push him away.

Adam would whine underneath his blanket or would suddenly burst into a frantic, running about the room and throwing himself against the walls hard, or bashing his head against the window. They removed anything that could be used as a weapon because Adam would use things that looked sharp to hurt himself with and sometimes on his brothers.

He would roar and scream at the top of his lungs for hours until his voice became dry and shredded. It was painful to listen to and to Dean, Sam was painful to watch.

Subsequently Dean had stormed off from their bickering. He couldn't handle the arguing anymore, so he sat steaming in the kitchen eating a pizza slice they'd ordered earlier, thinking about how ridiculous it was that they were arguing over their little brother as if they were a young couple who had brought their first newborn baby home and was starting to feel the effects of a crying child.

Later Sam walked in warily and slumped against the cupboard doors beneath the kitchen surface, both avoiding eye contact. Dean breathed in deep and threw the crust into the box with distaste.

Dean moved his head in his brothers' direction watching from the corner of his eye as he drank a couple glasses of neat whiskey.

"How is he?"

Sam looked down at his feet, in mid action of pouring himself another glass.

"As okay as can be, considering." Sam continued to pour the contents of the bottle into his glass and sniffed. "He's sleeping."

Dean nodded. "Good."

As they remained in the kitchen in silence; Dean trying not observe Sam's drinking habits lately and Sam not having the energy to try to care about how rude he was being towards his brother, Dean mumbled about going to bed and that he would see them both (Sam and Adam) in the morning—or whenever.

Sam ignored him as he shuffled his way out.

Sam woke up next morning with a bitter taste in his mouth, a dull ache in his head and behind his eyes and muscle cramps after crashing out on the sofa from a whiskey binge the night before. Automatically his analytical mind sloshed through his half dead brain for reasons why he wanted to get that much wasted in the first place and remembered Adam alone in that room needing him. Forcing his body into an upright position, he hobbled over to his duffle bag which sat in the same place the day before and took out his pain pills and dry swallowed three of them. 'Might as well get'ta little buzz too'.

Life was wearing him thin and after coming out of Hell and the guilt of finding their brother that way down there, the guilt was overpowering.

.

After the brothers got themselves cleaned up, ate breakfast, tried to force feed Adam and failed at teaching him to clean himself, it was well into the afternoon. The brothers were tired from the mess that was their brother and their ears were ringing from the shouting at each other and with Adam's constant shrieking. They wondered whether he could speak or not.

They ordered pizza again for their late lunch/dinner just to fill the holes where their stomachs used to be and waited for their food.

Forty-five minutes later and their pizza arrived. They chomped it down like wolves and when they were finished Dean doodled about on the laptop and Sam went away in the back room to feed Adam.

Sam shuffled back into the kitchen with the pizza untouched and dropped the box on the kitchen table, startling Dean.

"What's up?"

"He's still not getting anything down." Sam replied blandly. Sam opened their last full bottle of whiskey. Dean watched in silent judgment, mentally pushing down thoughts of worry.

A third into the bottle and Adam's screaming revved up again. They could hear him throwing himself about the room. They stared at each other, eyes speaking volumes.

They moved fast into the room and ambushed him against the wall and waited for him to calm down, giving him words of encouragement and safety.

This time, it wasn't working. Adam was doing his damn hardest to harm himself and continued on his self destructive rampage. He rubbed his face against the wall fast making the skin burn away and bit hard into his tongue and thick blood poured out from his mouth.

"Shit!" Sam cried and they let go of him. Dean observed Sam. He looked wild and on the verge of losing it.

"Adam, just calm down. We're trying to help you, why can't you see that? It's different here, different than what it was like down there!" Sam spoke fast, eyes frantic and pleading. Dean could see Sam was trying so hard to be strong for their little brother, but he felt he was the only one that was running on all cylinders.

"I think we're gonna need to drug him for now." Dean suggested. Sam wasn't listening either. Dean made to grab his brother's arm.

"Back off!" His eyes still on Adam. Sam shook his brother off him as he continued to ramble on at Adam. Dean pushed down hurt feelings.

"Sam you just got back from Hell, you're not thinking straight—neither of you are. He needs to rest even if its drug induced."

Adam began to cry hoarsely from damaged vocal cords.

"No!"

Dean huffed in frustration. "Sam, just stop!"

Still ignoring him, Dean decided he would have to take matters into his own hands. Going back into the living room he went through his own duffle bag and pulled out a syringe full of morphine.

He ran back to the room and removed the plastic lid. Squirting a little drip of morphine out the syringe needle, unbeknownst to Sam as he stubbornly continued to calm their hysterical brother, Dean tapped the inside of Adam's arm, waiting for a vein to bulge and pressed the needle in.

Finally noticing what Dean was doing, Sam tried to stop him but Dean shirked him off.

"Dean what are you doing?"

Adam's screams slowly subsided as the morphine kicked in and he slid down the wall and sobbed into his blanket.

"I'm doing what needs to be done." Dean's voice was hard with resolve.

"And what's that? Forcing drugs into him? Dean he just came out of a place that violated his very being!"

"Whatever works for you Sam, but this is better than listening to him scream himself hoarse." Sam yanked at his hair angrily.

"God Dean, it wasn't necessary! I had it under control."

"Really?"

Sam stared at Dean, his face hardening. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing Sam. I'm not gonna argue with you." He looked down at Adam and watched his face become placid, his body relaxed as he rubbed a spot on the blanket with his thumb. "Look at him, he's spaced out right now which is much better than being constantly manhandled and coddled by his big brothers. What you're trying to do for him isn't enough."

Sam nodded bitterly. "Yeah, you would think that. Sam messes everything up and can't make the right decisions about anything so Dean will come and sweep up his little brother's mess!"

"Don't make this about me, Sam! This is about you feeling guilt for everything that has just gone down!"

Sam gripped the bridge of his nose and concentrated on controlling his breathing. This was getting out of hand and he needed to get a grip of himself before he said something out of proportion. He needed to get away.

"You know what? Whatever Dean. I'm gonna hit the sack."

As he turned to walk out Adam chose that moment to speak up for the first time since he came back from Hell.

"Why'd you leave me there?" Sam stopped, his feet rooted for a couple of seconds before pivoting around. Dean looked at him his eyes round and confused, as if he was unsure he heard right.

"What did you just say?" Sam asked, his voice soft with surprise.

Adam's unwavering gaze pierced Sam. "Why did you leave me there—in the Cage?"

Sam gulped and his brows furrowed together with worry. Dean was unsure of how to handle this unprepared turn of event; this wasn't something either of them had planned for.

"I, it wasn't my fault Adam. I'm sorry." Adam began sobbing silently, rubbing the constant downpour of tears from his eyes and it wetted his hollow bruised cheeks. He irritated the sore scabs on his face making them red again.

"Why? Why did you leave me to rot down there with those, things? Those things," He whispered, voice thick with emotion. "—they were… I don't know what, how to describe them…" His voice trailed off into quiet ramblings.

Sam was rooted in the same spot with a vacant look. Dean glanced at him worriedly as he crouched down to Adam's level. He spoke to him.

"Hey. Let's talk about this later, alright. Just try to get some rest." Adam, to Dean's surprise, complied with no defiance as he continued to rub his thumb on his blanket. Dean pulled the blanket behind his back and wrapped it around him and it hung off his bony shoulders. Adam slowly closed his eyes mumbling under his breath to no one in particular. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying and didn't think he wanted to.

The whole time Sam remained in the same spot. Dean stood up straight and walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Sam you okay?"

Sam panted, his heart pounding hard against his chest. Blood slowly dripped from his nose and he suddenly felt light headed.

Dean watched as his brother's face blanched.

"Hey! Talk to me?"

Sam looked down at his brother, and felt a tickle on his lip and whipped it with the tips of his fingers. 'Blood'. It confused him.

"What? No. I…" Sam eyes rolled up into his head and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Dean looked from Sam to Adam wondering how the hell he was going to deal with those two when they woke.

"God-damn it!"

'Little friggin brothers!' Dean thought.

- So, what do you think? Please leave a review. Thanks.