They arrived back at the motel just before dark. The light turned the concrete blue, and the leaves black above their heads. The Impala was parked outside the room, as was John's. It was selfish of Adam, he knew, to want to keep a few more moments alone with Sam. He stopped their progress by the office. "Let's get some coffee first," he offered.
Sam nodded gratefully, keeping his eyes resolutely away from the accusing motel door.
Of course both Deans and John would be hysterical with fear at this point, though Adam had called ahead and told them he was bringing Sam back alive and unhurt.
The free coffee inside the registration office tasted foul, but it was warm, and it burned energy back into the both of them. They sat at one of the small tables where the free continental breakfast would be served in the morning. Sam's hand was clutched around the Styrofoam cup like a lifeline, and Adam grinned at him.
"What?" Sam asked, his face crinkling with distaste at the bitter liquid.
"Just remembering how much you loved coffee."
Sam put the cup down and sighed. He looked up, running his eyes over Adam like he was examining a suspect. It was a measuring glance, and Adam suddenly felt the itch of self-consciousness. "So… Adam, huh?" Sam asked.
"Yup." Adam shifted, drawing his sleeves over his hands, a gesture he thought he had lost in high school. He supposed all this nostalgia was creeping into his head, pulling him back through the years.
"I can see it, you know. You haven't changed much."
"Huh," Adam scoffed, "What about Dean?"
Sam smiled wryly, "Yeah, no. I don't think I'd have picked him out of a lineup."
"I don't know how that happened. I didn't realize how much he changed."
"What happened?" Sam asked, "When-after I…?"
Adam froze, but kept his eyes carefully on the coffee in front of him. "I told you. We got yellow eyes after I graduated. Dean wanted me to go back to school, but there wasn't much—"
"No," Sam interrupted, "I mean… what happened here? Did they leave me here?"
Adam glanced up at him at last, not sure what to tell him. He felt like every word he spoke was just… testing the ice, waiting for something to break and snap him out of this dream. He shrugged uncomfortably. "I was young at the time, but I remember the gunshot. It felt like it shook the whole room. It's all a bit… jumbled to me. Dean knows. God, he's my age now, isn't he?"
Sam nodded.
Adam ran a hand over his eyes, trying to remember that day. He had only been eleven. "There was another motel room, after the police station. A funeral, I remember, because I had no idea what was going on. I'd never been to a funeral before, and there wasn't enough people that knew us, but the priest was understanding. After all the paperwork was done, we gave you a hunter's funeral, and then yeah, we packed up. We went to stay with Bobby for a while. Dad left for a few months, we didn't even know if he was coming back. That's about it, really, until he picked us up again with a lead."
Sam nodded, his eyes distant as he picked at the edge of his cup. "It sounds strange. Like it's someone else's life."
"It doesn't have to be like that this time," Adam said, foolishly hopeful. "It's different already. We can fix it, get you some help-"
"You won't put me in a hospital. I would rather die."
"They can help, Sam—" Seeing Sam's expression, Adam stopped hastily, "but okay. We'll figure it out. You say no hospitals, there's no hospitals, but please don't… please try not to do that again. Let me help. Please."
Sam shrugged, a gesture that didn't exactly bring comfort to Adam, but he didn't want to push it. He had spent so much time reading up on depression, on how he could help, but it all failed him now. There was so much he didn't know about his older brother, and it had torn their family apart the last time. He didn't think he could handle it again, not up close and personal like this.
"C'mon," he said, "we've procrastinated as long as possible. We'll have to face them at some point."
Sam shrugged again, shrinking a little more into Adam's jacket. Seeing his brother closing off again, Adam smiled and nudged him a little. "Hey," he said quietly.
Sam looked up.
"I'm on your side. No matter what happens."
Now
The door opened as soon as they passed by the window to the motel room. It was his Dean who answered the door, and he had no eyes for Sam, but immediately looked Adam up and down for signs of injury. "You okay?" he asked roughly.
"Fine," Adam said, "What the hell happened to you?"
Dean was sporting one hell of a black eye, and his nose looked swollen, like someone had gotten a lucky strike. He scowled, but Adam could tell there was something different about him, something that had loosened. He looked tired, but not as… defeated.
"I'm fine."
"He's not," volunteered young Dean from the single motel chair, "he'd better not be fine, 'cause that means I didn't hit him hard enough."
"Enough Dean," snapped John. He had pulled Sammy away from Adam and was looking him over thoroughly. "What they hell were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry, sir." Sam whispered, his eyes planted firmly on the ground.
He flinched back as John swooped towards him, but was clearly taken aback as the elder hunter tugged him into a firm embrace. "Don't do that again," John said fiercely.
Adam shifted uneasily. John was never one to show affection or comfort, and definitely not fear or anxiety. This was all so different. Only hours ago, Dean and Bobby were the only family he had, and now there were four more Winchesters in the world. Their little family still together, still fighting.
He had to blink back the tears. Dean was tugging him away. "We've got a room next door."
"I'm not leaving, Dean."
"We'll come back," his brother promised, "But we need to get a base together, we need to figure this out."
Later
Sam lay with Adam curled against his stomach. His younger brother hadn't allowed that for a long time, but tonight he seemed to sense that Sam needed it as much as he did. Dean and John took shifts watching him, and sleep didn't come easy while he was under scrutiny.
John left to help the other Adam and Dean set up the wards in their room, and to get supplies for tomorrow. It was Adam who broke the silence after he left, as if he had been waiting all night for this moment.
"Did you try to leave?" he asked, whispering, though they both knew Dean was listening in.
Sam sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. Tears were threatening to fall again, and he wasn't sure he could hold back the sobs that were starting to stutter his breath.
"It's okay," Adam said, and for a moment Sam could hear the grown up Adam there, with his hard eyes and soft smile. The bur in his voice when he tried to be strong. He was going to grow up like… well, not like John. Not like Dean. He was going to become Adam.
And then the tears couldn't be held back. Sam tried to turn his face into the pillow, but was strapped between Adam's head and his own chest. The eleven year-old shifted, and Sam thought for a moment his little brother might be trying to leave, but Adam just turned around and wrapped his arms around his chest, digging his cheek to Sam's chest right over his heart.
I'm so sorry, Sam tried to say, but the words wouldn't come. He kept remembering the bathroom, the cool porcelain against his back, the metal of the gun under his chin. He had pulled the trigger, felt the release as it sprang under his finger, one staccato beat that stunned and thrilled.
"It's okay," Adam repeated, patting Sam's back awkwardly. "It's okay."
Sam didn't even realize that Dean had joined them until he felt his weight on his back, and the muscular arms threading around them both. Dean smelled like machine oil and leather, the scent of home.
Dean's breath ruffled Sam's hair, tickling his ears.
"I love you," Dean told him quietly, so quietly that Adam couldn't hear the words. "But if you do that… I don't think I could… I won't survive it."
Sam clenched his eyelids together, forcing the tears out faster even as he tried to stop. How did he tell Dean that even while he lay here, between the two people he would do anything for, he still hurt? He was still trapped, forced into a shape he couldn't hold.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, and he meant it.
But he couldn't imagine another day of this. The split second of relief he had felt while lying in that tub had been a hit of clarity, of happiness even. He needed it again. His skin itched with the need and it pounded in his head.
Now
Adam paced the length of their motel room while Dean watched him warily from the edge of one of the beds. "What if we just leave it, Dean? What if we just let this one go?" Adam pleaded.
Dean shook his head, picking at a loose thread on the motel quilt. "We don't belong here. This isn't our time, that isn't our family."
"Not this again—"
"No," Dean said, holding up his hands in surrender, "I get it now. I understand what you were trying to say, but the fact is that we're here, and the apocalypse is still happening somewhere, or… sometime, I guess. Otherwise why would we remember it? Why would we even be alive right now?"
"And what if we just go back? What if Sam's never saved?"
Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, and Adam jerked up at the unfamiliar touch.
"Adam," he said, tightening his fingers, "Our Sam is dead. We are who we are, and everything we've been through has still happened to us because Sam wasn't there. If he lives, there's no guarantee that he'll keep breathing, or that we will."
"So?" Adam snapped, taking Dean by surprise, "What has been so goddamn good about our lives that this won't make it just a little bit better? We're all so fucking miserable, taking jobs that nobody wants, losing people every day, never making friends because they'll end up being monsters, or eaten by monsters. I want this Dean, I just want this one thing."
"You have to listen to me," Dean said, now gripping both his shoulders, shaking him until their eyes met. "You're too close to this—"
"You're damn right!" Adam shouted, forcing Deans hands away, "I am close to this, because it's Sam. It's Sam, Dean. It's our whole family right there, whole and alive. You think that's not worth protecting?"
"I'm not saying we don't…" Dean grimaced. "We will help them. That's what we do, but you have to get some distance and start thinking why we're here. This was a monster, remember, a blue freak who didn't seem that interested in doing us any favors."
"How do you know that? You know what day it was. Maybe it just… it gave us a second chance."
Dean looked down, sighing heavily. "Okay Adam. I'll keep an open mind. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let it go. If this is a djinn—"
Adam's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing, "I'm not gonna do anything stupid," Dean reassured him with a wry smile. "I think we've had quite enough of that, but if it is a djinn or something else, I need you behind me when we kill it or leave."
Adam sighed, suddenly exhausted. The bad coffee burned at his stomach, threatening to climb back up his throat. The entire day had been an emotional train wreck. He had been high and low so many times he didn't know how to feel right now. Sam was alive, maybe? Dean wasn't drunk, and that talk with Sam had only confused him more.
"I need to sleep," he told his eldest brother. "I think I just need some sleep."
Dean nodded. "I'm going to stay up a while, do some research. I'll wake you if anything happens."
Adam slid back onto the bed, and smiled as he felt Dean start unlacing his shoes. "You doing research?" he muttered, "Maybe this is a dream."
"Shut your mouth, and go to sleep."
I'm sorry, I was feeling very linear today, so this chapter turned out rather chronological. I don't know whether that's a good or bad thing. REVIEWS SAVE LIVES and are rewarded with virtual baby sloths.
