Family Business

Chapter 11 - A Brief Reality Check

Sam took his sweet time at the gas mart. He loitered and lingered, and he was tempted to return empty handed just to be spiteful. But all the same he got Dean's favorite candies, and several pies and walked out of the store with a heavy bag swinging at his side. He fell into the driver's seat of the impala, getting the same 'this isn't quite right' feeling he always got when he drove Dean's car. The bag of comfort-candy was sitting next to him and he idly tied the handles together to keep anything from spilling out and under the seat.

Sam wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the motel room. He knew that he was being a bit childish but at the same time he felt relatively justified in his resentment. When he was younger, once he'd reached the age of seven, Dean had stopped tolerating his attempts at affection. He was teased, shoved off, or entirely ignored whenever any attempt at closeness was made. To Dean, any want for such 'chick flick moments' was as lethal as the plague, and he would avoid it at all costs. When Sam locked up and drifted away as a result of this, Dean didn't notice or care either. But suddenly, now that Adam was going through the same thing, he was putting forth an effort? It all just seemed a bit hypocritical to Sam.

When he got back to the motel he entered quietly, and sure enough, his brothers, older and younger, were closely entangled and fast asleep. Sam tried to stifle the rustling of the plastic bag, and set it on the nightstand next to the bed for when Dean woke up. In the mean time, while his brothers took their nap, Sam decided to do the chores he would probably end up doing a few days later: filling more bullet casings with rock salt, cleaning the weapons and the impala, and even going on a dirty laundry run. He'd just finished with said laundry, having folded it and brought it back, when he noticed Dean had woken up. Adam was still softly snoring and wrapped up in Dean's arms. His older brother was reaching towards the nightstand and the bag containing his requested comfort food.

Sam distributed the clean clothing between the three dufflebags on the floor.

"Sammy, do me a favor and hand me that bag wouldja?"

"Dean it's not that far you can get it yourself," Sam retorted.

"But the kid's sleepin', and I don't wanna wake him up."

They were both whispering, and Sam was sorely tempted to start yelling, or even pick up the candy bag and drop it on the opposite bed. But he restrained himself and went over, untying the bag as quietly as he could and handing it to Dean who reached inside and started pulling out the various different candies and pies Sam had gotten him.

"Thanks man," Dean mumbled before popping a rolo into his mouth.

Sam didn't reply, flopping down on the free bed and trying to relax. A nap was starting to sound like a good idea. They still had a few hours to kill and he'd done all the chores. Mostly it was just a waiting game. They had their plan and it was a good one, if they jumped the gun they might ruin it.

"No," Dean whined, "dude, don't leave me alone. I'm bored just waiting around, I don't wanna be the only one awake."

Sam thought about getting out, going to a movie, maybe. He hadn't gone to a movie in months, maybe a year now. It's not like they really had lots of time. He wanted to get away from Dean so badly it was making his chest burn, but knowing he couldn't pinned him to the bed. If he got up now and left with no reasoning then Dean would know something was up and would ask him about it later.

"Fine, fine," Sam sighed, trying to ease an exasperated grin onto his face instead of a scowl, "what do you want to do?"

"I want you to turn on the TV and put it on mute, on the infomercial channel," Dean instructed.

Sam did as told and soon they were making up what the salesman was saying, or at least Sam was. Dean had them all memorized, he was the TV junkie of the family, and he imitated the guy on the TV, word for word. The whole time, he laid on his side, holding Adam, and keeping his head up so he could see the infomercial. Easily he could have rolled onto his back and piled the pillows against the headboard, leant back against them, and only had to move Adam the tiniest amount. But he stayed in that awkward position the entire time.

The hours passed and soon it was seven o'clock and time to put their plan into action. Dean seemed to realize this too because started sitting up and pulling away from their little brother. Adam whined sleepily and tried to nuzzle closer again but Dean shook him awake.

"C'mon, kid, it's time to go," Dean told him.

"Go where?"

"The bar, to get the necromancer bitch, you know, our job?"

"I'll just...go get Bobby," Sam offered lamely. He scooted awkwardly off the bed and left the room to try and avoid punching something, or someone.

Adam loved waking up in Dean's arms, but he hated that it always meant he had to let go a minute or so later. Dean was pulling away from him, but he was so comfortable. His mind was sluggish and still half asleep. His senses were all filled with his brother, his smell, the sound of his breathing, the feel of his heartbeat against his forehead, the taste of his t-shirt which he'd been nibbling on without thinking about it. He couldn't hold in a whine when his brother tried to move him, and he clung to him, moving closer. His legs spread so his knees were gripping to his sides, jabbing into his ribs.

Dean's voice told him it was time to go, he had to wake up, and suddenly he was being shaken. Adam's eyes opened blearily and he looked up, squinting at his brother's face, the t-shirt pulled from his mouth. It tasted horrible, but he wanted to hold onto it with his teeth. He asked Dean where they were going and he was reminded of what he was going to have to do. He had to go talk to Amanda again. He had to be the bait. Then they would catch her, find her altar, and that would be that. Easy as pie. He heard Sam leave, and then Adam turned back towards Dean.

"You gonna let go any time, kid?" Dean asked in what Adam privately called his 'warning voice.'

Adam nodded, and he peeled his fingers out from under Dean's collar where they'd been curled into the indent above his clavicle. When he looked up again Dean wasn't looking at him, he was staring over his shoulder, probably at the clock. So, Adam could stare at the stubble ridden jawline and quirked lips for an extra few minutes. Dean's eyes focused on him again, and he looked indignant.

"Dude, leggo," and like that he was shoved off.

Adam barely caught himself in time to not fall off the bed. He rolled over and sat himself up. He shook his head and decided that having Dean snap at him was an excellent remedy for light headedness.