Chapter Nine

It was at around 1 PM that night that Adam had his third episode.

Sam was fast asleep, his head resting against the window and an old blanket draped over him. Dean had the music down for once, careful not to disturb Sam. The kid needed all the rest he could get. Adam was in the back, playing games on Sam's cell phone again – this time it was Paper Toss.

At around 12:45 AM he stretched and yawned, handing Sam's cell phone up front to Dean. "I'm bone-tired," he informed his brother. "I'm going to sleep for a bit, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," answered Dean. "I'll wake you up when we get to a motel."

They were almost to the halfway through Colorado. Dean had driven all day, refusing to let Sam drive ("You need to rest.") or even Adam ("You're going to kill us all."). They'd had nothing but burgers and soda from seedy roadside diners the entire day. Sitting in the car had tested their patience, but thankfully Adam and Dean were being civil to each other and the only arguments that broke out were over what sort of music to listen to.

"All we are is dust in the wind..."

From the corner of his eye Dean saw Adam shift around, apparently trying to get comfortable. It was difficult – the back of the car was too cramped for a 23-year-old to properly lie down, and Adam ended up with his legs squashed against the left door while his head rested against the right one.

"Same old song... nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky..."

Dean checked the time – 12:55 AM. His eyelids were drooping as well, and he wanted nothing more than to stop the car somewhere and go to sleep too. It wasn't such a bad idea, at least to Dean – he'd slept in the car before, and he could share the blanket with Sam, provided the kid didn't pull it away.

"It slips away... and all your money won't another minute buy..."

He shook his head and blinked at the road ahead, trying to clear the sleep from his mind. He had to focus on the road and get them to a motel, before he crashed the car and killed them all. That would suck, for all three of them. It would be especially ironic for Sam, who'd gone through so much just to be killed in a car crash because Dean fell asleep at the wheel.

"No," Adam said from the backseat, his voice low.

"What was that, Small Fry?" asked Dean, wondering who the boy was talking to.

"No... go away," was Adam's response.

Dean pulled up at the side of the road and turned around in his seat. Sure enough, Adam was tossing and turning in the limited space he had, moaning in his sleep and using his arms to shield himself from whatever he was dreaming about.

"Ah shit," muttered Dean. He got out of the car and opened the back door, grabbing Adam's shoulders and pulling him upright. "Wake up, Small Fry, it's just a nightmare. You're safe."

Adam's eyes shot open and he gripped Dean's shirt tightly, looking around wildly. "Where am I?" he asked.

"In the Impala," Dean answered, shaking his brother. "You're all right, kid. You're safe. You're with us."

Adam shook his head. "No," he told Dean. "You're not real. Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying to you," Dean told him, struggling to keep his voice calm. It seemed the hallucinations were getting worse – this was bad. Real bad.

"Yes you are!" Adam cried out, pushing Dean away. "Get away from me! Where's Sam? I want Sam and Dean!"

"I'm right here!" Dean said, reaching out and shaking Adam again.

"NO!" yelled Adam. "Stop lying!"

Sam woke up with a start. "Dean?"

"Help, Sammy!" Dean called out, wrapping his arms around Adam in an attempt to restrain him. Of course, it only made him struggle harder.

Sam's eyes went wide when he saw what was going on. In a flash he was out of the car and opening the other back door, grabbing Adam from his other side. "Adam, it's all right!" he said. "It's us, Adam! We're real, not Lucifer!"

"No, no, let me go!" screamed Adam, kicking and punching whatever he could hit. "STOP LYING TO ME!"

"Sam, the cut on his arm!" Dean yelled over Adam's screaming. "I'll hold him!"

"Okay," Sam said quickly, and grabbed Adam's arm, pressing down on the cut on his forearm with his thumb. Nothing happened, except that Adam yelled out and started resisting his brothers more furiously.

"Dean, it's not working!" Sam said, now also trying to restrain Adam.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Dean barked. "Fuck, this is bad... Adam, listen to me!" He tried again. "We're – trying – to – help – you!"

Adam somehow managed to sock Dean on the nose, causing Dean to yell in pain and loosen his hold. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the boy struggled out of Dean's hold and began attacking Sam.

Dean's nose was spurting blood. "Dammit, Adam!" he shouted, attempting to stem the flow with his sleeve. "I do dot deed dis righd dow!"

"Adam, please, listen to me!" Sam sounded desperate by now. "It's us, Adam! Your brothers! Your family! We're real, Adam, please!"

"Be're dot godda hurd you," Dean told him, trying to speak clearly around the blood. "Adam, blease, calm dowd."

Adam suddenly stopped struggling, going boneless in Sam's arms. "What the – Adam!" Sam began shaking him, trying to get him to open his eyes.

"I dink he's bassed oud," Dean told Sam.

"No, he can't have," contradicted Sam. "Lucifer's not that kind, Dean!"

Sure enough, Adam began whimpering, covering his ears. "No, please," he whispered. "I'm sorry, just stop it, please!"

Sam looked at Dean. "What's he seeing?"

"Damned if I dow," muttered Dean. "How do we stob id?"

Sam gently shook Adam. "Adam, open your eyes. It's all right, Adam," he tried, his tone reassuring.

"Please don't hurt them," Adam sobbed. "I'll do anything, just don't hurt them!"

Dean glanced at Sam. They both knew now, what their brother was seeing – them, hurt and broken. "We're all righd, Adam," Dean told the boy. "We're okay. We're all safe, see?"

Adam did not listen, attempting to curl in on himself, but Sam's grip on him made that difficult. "Please," he whispered. "Please don't hurt them."

On a sudden whim Dean grabbed the water bottle from the front seat and unscrewed the lid, before emptying it on Adam. The boy opened his eyes with a gasp, his arms flailing before they found Sam's jacket and held on tight. "Sam! Dean!"

"We're okay," Sam told him gently, adjusting his hold so that Adam was comfortable. "You're all right too."

"But I saw–" Adam began uncertainly.

"Dot real," Dean told him firmly. "Dothing habbened, Adam."

Adam squinted at Dean. "What happened to you? Wait – I did that?"

Dean nodded. "It's all righd, Sball Fry," he said before Adam could begin apologizing. "You weren'd yourshelf."

Adam still looked ashamed, hanging his head so that his face was hidden in the crook of Sam's elbow. "It was so bad this time," he whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled. "He hurt you guys."

"It wasn't real, Adam," Sam reminded him gently, rubbing his back with his other hand. "We're all okay."

Adam nodded into Sam's arm. "I know. Thank God."

Dean felt it again as he watched his brothers – that familiar stab of jealousy. It seemed as if Adam had forgotten he was there, and Sam was the only thing he could see. Dean's baby brother Sam.

But Sam had a baby brother too, now.

"It's all right, Adam," he was saying, his tone soft. "You're going to be fine."

"How much longer is this going to go on?" asked Adam, his tone desperate. Sam felt hot tears soak through his jacket at his elbow, along with the water from Adam's clothes. "How long am I going to see him?"

"I don't know, Adam," sighed Sam. "But we'll find a way to make it stop. You'll see."

"Please... soon," begged Adam. "I can't take this, and it's only been a few days!"

"Don't worry," Sam said. "It'll be all right, Adam. You'll be fine."

Adam didn't reply, instead moving so that his head was now resting on Sam's shoulder. Sam held Adam, rubbing his back and whispering assurances into his ear as Dean watched, and soon Adam was asleep, dried tears glistening on his cheeks.

"Poor kid," sighed Sam as he let go of Adam and lay him down on the seat. "He's suffering so much."

Dean chose not to remind Sam that this was exactly what he'd gone through too, a couple of years ago. He knew Sam didn't remember much of his episodes on an individual basis – it was all just a big picture of pain in his mind. Dean preferred to keep it that way – Sam didn't need to know.

He started the car up and began driving again, no longer sleepy at all. Besides him, Sam was fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. Then he asked, "Dean, there's got to be a way to stop this. He's just a kid, Dean."

"I dow," Dean said, voice low. He might be annoyed with Adam hogging Sam but that didn't mean he was blind to the boy's pain. "Don't worry, Sabby. We'll fix him."

"How?" questioned Sam sadly. "How long does this have to go on?"

Dean glanced at Sam, who was looking back at him with tears standing in his eyes. For a moment the brilliance of those eyes drove all thoughts from Dean's mind, and all he could think of was how grateful he was that Sam could see again. Sam was all right.

"Dean."

He blinked and looked back at the road. "I don't dow, Sabby," he finally replied. "I don't dow."

There was a silence that lasted a few moments, and then Sam said, "We're going to have to fix your nose."

"We can do id when we reach a model," Dean said, keeping his eyes on the road. In the distance he spotted a neon sign that advertised vacancies at the Happy Day Motel, and he sighed in relief. "Albost dere, Sabby."

Since Dean looked like he'd just lost a fight with a tree, it was Sam who checked them in. Dean wondered if he should wake Adam, but Sam decided against it. "He may not be able to go back to sleep," he said to Dean. "Maybe it's best we don't wake him."

To Dean's unwanted annoyance Sam then proceeded to lift Adam out of the car, cradling him in his arms. Without a word Dean turned and opened the door for them. Gently Sam set Adam down on one of the beds, before taking off his shoes and socks and covering him with the comforter.

It was a nice room, clean and tidy with white walls, light blue carpet and soft sheets and comforters on its two queen beds. The kitchenette in the corner seemed clean, and the bathroom proved usable upon inspection by Dean.

"You shower firsd," he told Sam, surprising him. "I'll watch over Sball Fry."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, concerned. Dean hadn't let him take first shower in about a billion years.

"I'm fibe," Dean said, waving Sam off. "Go shower, and if you fibish the hod wader I will kill you."

Sam nodded, still suspicious, but went off into the bathroom anyway. Kicking his shoes off, Dean sat down on the other bed and looked at Adam. He wondered uneasily where all the jealousy was coming from. It was completely unwarranted, he knew – Sam was Adam's brother too. Adam had as much a right to Sam as Dean did.

He sighed. This wasn't good, and it wasn't just Adam's hallucinations he was talking about. He'd never had to share Sam, not in this way, and while he didn't like it he knew he couldn't keep it up. It was wrong. Adam deserved whatever comfort he could find, and if it was Sam he was getting it from, so what?

Only... what if Sam got so focused on Adam he forgot Dean? It was likely, the way the boy's condition was getting worse. But Sam just couldn't forget Dean, could he? Dean knew the kid never would. Sam loved him way too much. But it was possible that he wouldn't be able to spend so much time with Dean anymore, not the way they used to. He wouldn't be just Dean's Sammy anymore – he'd be Adam's Sammy too.

Stop, Dean told himself firmly. You're being selfish. Small Fry needs Sam too, just as much as you do. And Sam's not a baby anymore. He can look after himself, and Small Fry too.

But it didn't stop him from holding on to Sam that night too, when he thought Sam had fallen asleep. It didn't stop him from cursing himself for being selfish, or from hoping Sam wouldn't love Adam more then he loved Dean. It didn't stop him from falling asleep with one hand buried in Sam's hair, praying that he'd never lose his brother.

He was the first to wake in the morning. He checked his watch – 9:15 AM. He'd slept surprisingly well, and his nose didn't hurt so much anymore. He got out of bed, careful not to wake Sam, and went to the bathroom.

He returned to find Sam still asleep and Adam sitting up in the other bed, blinking. "How you doing, Small Fry?" asked Dean, relieved to find he could sound normal again.

"Better," Adam told him. "You? How's your nose?"

"It'll survive," Dean told him. "You ready to move out? Or you wanna stay here for a bit longer?"

"No, let's leave," Adam said. "Sooner we get there, the better, right?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?" He may have felt jealous of the boy, but he was still his brother, and he was concerned too.

"I'm fine, Dean," Adam assured him, smiling a little. "Don't worry about me."

Dean nodded. "All right, Small Fry. But if you feel anything coming on, you tell me, okay?"

"Will do," Adam promised.

Dean woke Sam up, and said, "Why don't you get ready, and in the meantime Small Fry and I'll go get something to eat?"

"Okay," Sam said. "Don't take too long," he added.

"Hey, Adam," Dean said, once they were in the car. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Adam repeated. "Thanks to you and Sam."

"I notice you get along real good with Sam," Dean said, looking at Adam.

The boy shrugged. "180 years is a long time, Dean. I can't forget what he's done for me."

"I know, I know," Dean said, keeping his tone casual as he pulled up in front of a diner. "Just remember, he's my brother too."

Adam looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I know that."

Dean pretended not to have heard him. "So, what do you want for breakfast?" he asked, his tone suspiciously cheerful all of a sudden.

"Whatever you and Sam get, but Dean–" However, Dean had exited the car before Adam could finish, leaving the boy bewildered.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked half an hour later, putting his half-eaten pancake aside.

"What do you mean, Sammy?" Dean countered.

"You've been strangely... perky," Sam observed. "And Adam won't stop looking at you like he's trying to figure something out."

Adam went red in the face. "It's nothing," he muttered, mentally slapping himself for being that obvious.

"Yeah, it's nothing," Dean agreed, shooting Adam a pointed look in the rearview mirror. "You're being too oversensitive, Sammy."

Sam frowned, but didn't pursue the topic further. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"Almost out of Colorado," Dean informed him. "We should be there in another couple of days."

Adam groaned. "That long?"

"Yeah," grinned Dean. "Bored already?"

"Extremely," answered Adam. "My brain's going to explode. I've got nothing to do."

"I'll buy you a paperback at the next gas station we stop at," promised Sam.

Adam pulled a face. "I'm not going to read," he said, looking distasteful. "That's even more boring."

"No it isn't," Sam contradicted. "Reading's fun."

"Well, for you, maybe," grumbled Adam. "We're not all geeks, though."

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, Small Fry, we'll get you a skin magazine."

Sam made a face. "No. We will not."

"Why not?" asked Adam, looking disappointed.

"Because I said so, that's why," Sam said. "We'll buy you a car magazine. That okay?"

"Fine," Adam said, still looking let down, but he was too bored to not compromise.

"And at the next wifi hotspot I'll download some other games for you," Sam said. "Happy now?"

Adam grinned. "Thanks."

Dean made a face, one that didn't go unnoticed by Sam. "Dean, what is it?"

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean told him.

"You looked a little funny right now."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"Shut up," groaned Adam. "Please. You're driving me crazy."

Both of them glared at him through the rearview mirror, but he was not fazed. Instead he raised an eyebrow at his brothers, and then yawned. "I'm going to take a power nap," he informed them, lying down. "Wake me up as soon as we're out of Nowheresville, Colorado."

"Okay, kid," said Dean, hoping the hallucinations wouldn't return this time. "Sleep well." Despite himself he couldn't help but turn around and give Adam a smile.

The boy returned it somewhat hesitantly, still confused about Dean's bipolar behavior. His smile grew, however, when Sam turned to reach out and ruffle his hair. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Dean's smile rapidly vanishing off his face.

"All right," said Sam, the minute he was sure Adam was asleep. "What did you say to him?"

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, carefully keeping his tone light and conversational.

Sam huffed. "I'm not stupid, Dean. I know you two talked when you went out to get breakfast. What. Did. You. Say. To. Him."

Dean regarded Sam for a minute, looking him over and trying to read the expression on Sam's face. Then he said, "Nothing, Sammy. You're reading too much into it."

"Am I?" questioned Sam. "Dean, you've been strange ever since I woke up. What is it?"

"I haven't been strange," Dean said, his tone mock-offended. "How dare you, Sammy."

Sam sighed angrily. "I'm serious, Dean!" he informed his brother. "There's something going on with you, and I want to know what."

"What do you think is going on?" Dean asked, stalling. No way in hell was he going to tell Sam what exactly had been going through his mind.

"I don't know," Sam said. "You look so weird every time we're around Adam, and when he has his episodes you help out but at the same time you look kinda... pissed."

"Pissed? I don't look pissed," Dean said, scoffing.

"Yes you do," Sam told him. "Like you wish you didn't have to deal with it."

This time Dean really did get angry. "Sam, come on," he said. "How could you think I'm that selfish? He's my brother too, you know, and yeah, I wish he didn't have to go through all that shit, but you make it sound like I hate him."

"Well, it's how you look," Sam said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "You asked me what I thought. I told you."

Dean knew Sam wasn't stupid; the kid was going to figure it out sooner or later. He was spared having to continue the conversation further when he spotted a gas station up ahead, and he pulled in, saying, "Come on, let's go get something from the store. Get Small Fry's magazine and stuff."

Sam glared and huffed but followed Dean out of the car. He waited until Dean was rifling through the magazines on the rack inside, and then said, "Well. Explain. Now."

Sam speaking in short sentences meant there was a storm coming, and damn but Dean wasn't looking forward to that. Sam's bitchfits were something he strived to avoid on an everyday basis – but this time he had no such luck.

"I'm waiting," Sam said, pulling a bitchface at him.

"Do you think he'll like this?" asked Dean, holding up a magazine. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, he will. Now answer me."

"Nah, I think this one's better," Dean declared, holding up another one. "What do you say, Sammy?" For better or for worse, he grinned at Sam's I-Am-Going-to-Stab-You-Now-You-Jerk bitchface.

Sam ripped the magazine from Dean's hands and slapped it down on the nearby counter, startling the cashier into dropping the BlackBerry she'd been texting on. "Hey!" she said indignantly. "Can't you see I'm like, busy here?"

"You can text your boyfriend later, sweetheart," Dean told her, barely sparing her a glance.

She huffed angrily, though it was nowhere near Sam's epic huffing abilities. "We were having like a totally important conver- conser- con- well, we were talking!" she finished, glaring.

Sam and Dean ignored her.

Dean fiddled with the hem of his jacket, and then with his cell phone, avoiding Sam's eyes. The kid looked beyond impatient – he was standing with his arms folded, glaring holes into Dean's skull, and Dean could practically hear his brain whirring.

And then–

"Oh."

The sound was so soft Dean wasn't sure he'd heard it at first. "Did you say something, Sammy?"

Sam unfolded his arms, his expression turning softer. In fact, he was suppressing a grin. Irked and somewhat bewildered by this sudden change in direction, Dean asked somewhat irritably, "What?"

"You're jealous," Sam stated.

Dean started, and then attempted to cover up for the sticky moment. "No I'm not," he denied, laughing it off. "You high, Sammy?"

Sam wasn't fooled – Dean was just about the easiest person to read, if only to Sam. "You're jealous," he repeated, "because you think Adam's hogging me."

"You're delusional," Dean told Sam, but his bright-red face gave him away.

"Am I?" asked Sam, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "Because it seems to me a lot like you are."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, now feeling embarrassed beyond belief. The ground would have done him a favor if it had opened up and swallowed him right then and there, but as it was he had no such luck, and the ground remained stubbornly solid.

"Well," said Sam, "for one, you think Adam's going to somehow take me away from you. That's not going to happen, Dean."

Dean didn't answer, instead opting to stare at Sam's face. The little bitch was still smiling, and Dean had to undergo several internal struggles not to give in and admit that it was endearing.

"You're still my big brother," Sam was telling him. "Adam can't change that. Nothing can change that."

Dean's tongue finally unstuck itself from the roof of his mouth. "I know, Sammy," he said, sighing. Fuck it, the chick-flick moment was happening, he was in it, and powerless to do anything about it. Might as well comply with Sam's wishes, and no, it had nothing to do with the puppy eyes, thank you very fucking much. "It's just that... I've never had to share you."

He blurted out the last few words against his will, and then immediately mentally kicked himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But Sam wasn't laughing at him – in fact, the kid looked rather surprised. "Are you crazy, Dean?" he finally asked.

Ah, there it is, thought Dean morosely. Now he's gonna tell me what an asshole I'm being, and how selfish I am – as if I didn't know it already.

Sam wasn't doing anything of the sort, however – he now looked a little sad. "Why'd you think I can just forget you like that, Dean?" he asked, and if that was heartbreak in his voice then Dean was going to go jump off a bridge, ground be damned. "You're my big brother, Dean," he said again. "I can't just – I can't believe you'd think–" He spun away from the counter and began walking back to the car, his shoulders hunched.

Dean stared after him in disbelief. What the actual fuck. He had so not expected that. He grabbed the magazine off the counter, handed the cashier (who'd retrieved her phone and was madly clacking away at the keyboard) some cash and then walked out after Sam.

"Sam!" he called across the parking lot. "Listen to me, Sam!"

Sam didn't respond. He finished the walk to the Impala and got inside, wrapping his blanket around himself and curling into the seat. Heart sinking, Dean got in after him, checked that Adam was still asleep in the backseat and then said, "Sam, listen to me."

"Go away," muttered Sam, not looking at Dean. Dean didn't have to see his face to know his nose was going red and his eyes were watering – he'd made Sam cry. Shit.

"Look, I didn't mean that," explained Dean, starting the car and rolling out. "Just forget it, okay? I was being a selfish asshole."

"That's not it, Dean," Sam told him with a small sniff. "I can understand that, maybe I'd have felt the same way too. But how'd you think I could just forget you? Do you really value yourself that less?"

Dean didn't reply; his self-esteem (or rather, lack of it) was a road he was not going down, not now, and probably not ever.

"You're important to me, Dean," Sam told him, sounding frustrated. "Why can't you get that. If this is about me not looking for you, then I'm sorry, okay?" He turned away again.

Oh. So that explained it. Sam thought Dean was still mad at him for that, even though they'd sorted that out months ago. Sam still felt guilty over it, and that was such a Sam thing to do that against his better judgment, Dean chuckled.

Immediately Sam's head snapped back in his direction. "You think this is funny?" he demanded.

Dean sobered at once. "No, it's not," he answered. "Sorry. It's just – we've talked this out, Sammy. I'm not mad at you. I thought we were done with that."

It was Sam's turn to not answer.

"This isn't about that," Dean told him. "Look, let's just forget we ever had this conversation, okay?"

"No," Sam refused. "You're so stupid, Dean, if you think I don't care. Just because Adam's here doesn't mean anything has to change."

"I know," Dean said quietly, now feeling incredibly silly. This felt so much like a teenage drama. "Look, I can't control how I feel, okay. I can't help it."

"It's 'cause you're stupid," Sam informed him, perfectly serious. "You think I'm just going to leave you alone, because I don't care or whatever, or else you can just die closing the Gates of Hell and it won't affect me – well, here's news, Dean: if you die I'm going to kill you. Right after I follow."

"No, Sam," Dean said firmly. This was familiar territory, and he almost felt thankful, until he remembered what Sam was saying. "You're not going to follow."

"How're you going to stop me?" challenged Sam. "You'll be dead."

"I'll whip your ass in Heaven," threatened Dean.

"In Heaven," repeated Sam, looking triumphant. "In Heaven."

"Oh my God, I hate you," muttered Dean, knowing Sam had won this time around. "Fine, then," he said vehemently. "I won't die. Happy?"

"Yes," Sam answered, and when Dean glanced at him he realized Sam really did mean it – the kid looked sincerely ecstatic. "You promise, right, Dean?"

There were those damn puppy dog eyes again. Fuck. Sam's ultimate weapon.

"Yeah, I promise," he sighed, and Sam's smile grew wider. Seeing it, Dean knew it was worth it – he'd do anything to see Sam smile like that. "Are we good?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Just one more thing."

Dammit. "What?"

"Please don't think I'm ever going to replace you with Adam, Dean," Sam said, his voice carrying a hint of pleading. "I'd never. I couldn't. You're Dean."

It felt as if the weight of the world was sliding off his shoulders. "All right, Sam. I get it." He smiled at Sam, a proper smile, not his usual smirks.

Sam smiled back, before saying, "Okay, we're good now."

Dean heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank God, I though the chick-flick moment would never end," he snarked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but before he could reply Adam's voice rang out in the car. "Oh thank God."

Sam and Dean both turned to look at him, Dean almost losing control of the car as he did so. "What the fuck – Small Fry! You were awake all this time?"

Adam grinned cheekily at his brothers. "Yep," he said. "So this is what you got so worked up about."

Dean glared. "I will kill you," he threatened. Adam just grinned wider.

"I can't believe you were jealous of me," he crowed. "I feel so special, Dean."

"Shut up," muttered Dean, looking murderous and trying to ignore Sam choking on his own laughter. "Sam and I were having a moment."

"I wanted to join in," Adam told him happily. "Now – did you get me my magazine?"

Dean chucked it at Adam's head. "Here."

Adam rubbed his head where it had hit him. "Ow," he muttered. "Asshole."

It was Dean's turn to grin. "Retard."

"Moron."

"Idiot."

"Dipshit."

"Fuckwit."

Sam groaned. This was going to be long road trip.

*sigh* I give up. I just fucking give up. You win, School. *cries*

So here it is, peasants. I'm afraid not much action here either, though there's bro mo's, and well, that works for everyone, doesn't it?

I have recently made the mistake of watching Sherlock - and now guess who's going through extra feels. FUCKING MORIARTY OHMYGOD I WANT TO KILL MORIARTY AND MYCROFT BOTH. Andandand poor Watson, and Sherlock, andandand just ugh. *cries some more because how did six episodes manage to fuck up my feels so thoroughly*

Yeah, so - today's question is more of a poll: If I wrote a Supernatural/Sherlock crossover, (a) do you think it's a good idea, and (b) would you read it?

I've been considering it ever since I finished watching the series and then I realized - Sam and Sherlock's combined intellect could easily destroy the world. And Dean would totally want to strangle Sherlock, while Sam and John just watch and shake their heads and sigh to themselves. SO MUCH POTENTIAL FOR AWESOME. *grins*

And Benedict Cumberbatch. That freaking man. His eyes. *dies*

I'm also considering watching Doctor Who, but I know it'll butcher my feels so I'm just going to wait till my exams are over. I don't want to burst out crying over my Chemistry paper, that would fuck my grade up and I'm already struggling with Chemistry as it is *curses school*

Reviewers get brand new garden gnomes for their 20-acre plots. I am awesome and generous and I expect you all to review to show your appreciation for being so epic.

Ahh, I love my peasants :')

-Peace x