Timeline- Adam is 12 years old and has been with his new family for a few months. He's still training and adjusting to the Winchester lifestyle and is being left behind while the others go on hunts.
Being alone never used to bother Adam. It was normal for him. Mom worked long shifts, 12 and 14 hours, overnights and sometimes weekends. He was comfortable in his aloneness. He'd wander around his house, read, watch tv, go over to friends houses. It wasn't a big deal.
But that was before.
Before his world was shaken to its very core.
Now, he hated being alone. He hated being left behind, always in an unfamiliar place, listening for all the strange sounds that accompanied the shady motels that the Winchesters called home. He'd sit and watch tv, trying to find the comfort in the solitude that he used to have. Searching within himself to find the calm and peace that once came easily. He'd try to ignore the thumping cars outside or the screams and fights of the other occupants coming through the thin walls. He'd try to focus on the lore books that Sam left him or practice with the ropes and knives that Dean left behind. He'd try. But really he could never focus. From the moment Dad ditched him, with insincere half-truths about how long he and the older boys would be gone, Adam's anxiety would begin its epic climb. He would end up pacing the room or walking down to the outside soda machine every 30 minutes, taking the opportunity to look down the open stretch of highway and pray for a sign of Dad's truck or the familiar lights of Dean's beloved Impala. Over the hours or days, they would be gone, Adam would run through all the scenarios of what could happen. He'd make his plans for how long he would wait for them and what he might do if they didn't come back. Sam was the only one honest enough to admit there was always a chance they might not come back. For all Dad's talk of how hunting was 'seriously business and life or death' anytime, Adam would ask if they were going to be ok on the hunt, Dad would brush him off.
"We'll be fine Adam. Don't worry."
Dean was just as bad. He'd never admit that Dad could be dragging them into something they might not come out of unhurt or even alive. And the thought of losing another part of his family terrified Adam in a way he didn't have the words to describe.
He'd begged Dad to take him along on this hunt. He'd been training. He figured he knew enough about hunting to go along. He was even willing to stay in the car while they did the actual hunt. Anything not to be stuck alone in the motel room, waiting and wondering if the only people he had left in the world were going to come back to him.
He'd been alone for almost two days. Adam was counting the hours. At 6 pm tonight, Dad and his brothers will have been gone for 48 hours. And Adam hadn't slept the entire time.
Suddenly, the motel room door burst open with a thud against the wall and the sound sent Adam jumping off the bed as he looked over to see Sam and Dad dragging a lifeless Dean between them.
"Dean!" Adam screamed instinctively, running to meet the trio.
"Get out of the way!" Dad yelled gruffly, grabbing Adam by the shirt with his free hand and roughly shoving the 12-year-old out of their path.
"Dean!" Adam cried again pitifully, shuffling backward as he watched Dad and Sam lay Dean's unconscious body down on the motel bed where only moments ago Adam had been sitting; absentmindedly watching tv, while wondering many days travel by bus he was from his hometown of Windom.
Adam's heart was in his throat as he stared at his unconscious older brother. Dean had blood trailing down the right side of his face, covering his ear and running down his throat. His face was sickly pale, causing the bright red blood to stand out even more against his skin. The blue glow of the television cast an unearthly sheen on his brother's pallid skin and Adam felt his gut twitch at the sight. He reached back and quickly turned off the television set, hoping it would make Dean look normal again, but even with the set off, Dean still looked pretty bad. Dad said this was supposed to be to be a quick, routine hunt; a good chance for Sam and Dean to get in some practice over the weekend. It was a "milk run". No one was supposed to get hurt on a 'milk run'
"ADAM!"
Adam was startled out of his thoughts by Dad's angry roar.
"NOW!" Dad yelled at him again.
Adam was frozen in fear. Dad had apparently been barking orders since they got in the room and Adam had been so intent on his brother he hadn't noticed or obeyed.
"HOT WATER BOY!" Dad bellowed.
Adam flew into motion, rushing away from the scene and into the kitchenette of the motel room, digging under the sink for the pot he knew was there. He grabbed it quickly, hurrying to fill it with water as he watched Dad and Sam from the corner of his eye.
"Goddammit," Dad mumbled as he examined Dean.
Adam watched as Dad felt around Dean's head, finding the spot near the top of his head where the bleeding was coming from and motioning to Sam.
"Here Sam." He said, waving Sam over.
Adam hadn't noticed, but at some point Sam had grabbed one of their first aid kits and was standing by Dad at the ready, holding a wad of clean gauze in his hand.
Sam was silent as he moved toward his older brother's head, gently placing and holding a square of gauze on the spot his father had pointed out. Dad continued to run his hands across Dean's head and neck, then gently made his way down the boy's shoulders and arms feeling for something Adam couldn't see.
The water in the pot had almost spilled over before Adam noticed and he quickly turned off the tap and set it on the stove before turning it on to boil. Once the stove was going he rushed back over to the motel bed, watching his father work.
Dad had made his way down Dean's chest and hips and was now checking his right leg.
"Goddammit," Dad said again through gritted teeth, as he pulled on Dean's jeans revealing an angry red burn on his calf.
Adam let out a startled gasp at the sight of the burn. Once when he was little he'd touched a hot pan his mother left on the stove and he remembered his chubby little hand being red and later puffy with a blister, but that was nothing like the char and gore on Dean's leg. It almost didn't look like it could be real. Adam had never seen skin look like that, so red and leathery, with black charred edges. Dean's leg didn't look like it belonged to Dean; it looked like something out of a war movie, something that the makeup department had worked for hours on. Not an injury that a real person could have and recover from.
"Dad…" Adam whispered in frightened astonishment.
John took a deep breath seeing the extent of the damage to Dean's leg. It was worse than he had originally anticipated. He'd seen Dean get thrown, heard the sound of flame, but he'd been thrown backward as well and missed seeing the actual injury. He remembered Dean getting back up though, running back into the fray and throwing a knife at their target before he was tossed again and hit his head against a tree. Knowing that Dean had been able to get up and run after whatever hit he took made John think the wound wouldn't be this bad. But no, this was pretty damn bad.
He'd do what he could now, lace the kid with painkillers and clean him up, but if it didn't look somewhat better by tomorrow they'd all be hauling ass to the closest burn unit. As much as he dreaded about the questions he and Dean would receive about the injury, he was far more worried about Dean potentially losing muscle or feeling in his leg.
Gritting his teeth John steeled himself, burying his emotions and began issuing orders again rapidly.
"Adam, change places with Sam. Keep a gentle pressure on that head wound. Sam, get me the full med kit,"
Adam jumped to follow orders and took over for Sam, trying to carefully but quickly grab the gauze without hurting Dean. Sam took off to find their full medical kit, the one with more than just gauze and duct tape, and Adam was left staring down at Dean, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. Swallowing his nerves, Adam tried to distance himself from the terror he could feel building in his chest. He had to get ahold of his emotions. He wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. Doctors don't get emotional in an emergency.
Get tough. He thought, scolding himself.
He watched as Dad used his hunting knife to cut away the parts of Dean's jeans that weren't already seared off. The burn wasn't as large as it had looked at first, but it was still nasty, taking up the left side of Dean's calf. Dad paused a moment and looked up at both Sam and Adam.
"He's gonna be ok," Dad said calmly, his voice detached and clinical.
Adam could only nod dumbly in response and Sam stayed silent.
"Stay there," Dad ordered, as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen. He turned off the now boiling pot of water and began to wash his hands, dutifully scrubbing each of his fingers and well past the wrists of each hand.
"Sam, come get some towels sterilized, I want you to get cleaned up. Adam, then you. We've gotta dress that burn so it doesn't get infected and it's gonna hurt Dean like a bitch. Adam, you'll hand me the dressings that I need. Sam, you'll hold your brother down."
Hold him down?
Adam gulped at the thought.
"Dad?" Sam whispered, shaken at the thought of having to physically restrain his suffering older brother.
John ignored Sam's questioning, not looking up from the soap on his hands, but spoke firmly, a very business-like tone taking up residency in his normally gruff voice, "He hasn't regained consciousness yet. Getting that burned cleaned out is bound to wake him up. And anyone waking up to that kinda pain ain't gonna be still. So sit on him if you have to."
Adam looked at Sam with wide eyes. Dean would be so embarrassed if he knew Dad didn't think he could be still and tough it out. Sam didn't look at Adam, only gave a tight turn of his head, his jaw locked rigidly, the only indication that he didn't like his father's words
They all worked quickly to get set up, each looking back to check on Dean every few moments. Adam was careful in laying out the materials John demanded be ready to clean and dress the wound. He was realizing that as much as he wanted to learn medicine and help people, he didn't like playing nurse to his Dad's doctor. Several times as he was getting out gauze and bandages (trying every few seconds to convince himself this was just a patient and not his brother) he'd have to bite his tongue to keep from asking why Dean was here when he so clearly needed to be at a hospital.
Moments later they were ready and Sam got into position, hovering over Dean's body ready to restrain him if needed.
"Ok," Dad said, seated on a kitchen chair he'd pulled up next to the bed where Dean lay. Adam watched as his father looked up at Dean's still unconscious face, pausing briefly before taking a deep breath and hardening himself.
"Ok," he said again, picking up the small bottle of cold water he had filled up and nodded for a piece of clean gauze from Adam.
The moment the water and gauze touched Dean he awoke with a howl of pain.
"Sam!" Dad yelled, as Dean kicked and fought against the agony. "Adam!" Dad yelled again, nodding down at his own hands holding onto Dean's thrashing leg. Adam moved quickly and grabbed Dean's knee, freeing John's hand to hold up the boy's leg so he didn't drag the open wound across the old motel bedding.
"Dean! Dean!" Sam was chanting above them, trying to bring their brother back from the edge of pain and into his rational mind. Sam knew his brother well enough to know that if Dean could wake up enough to realize what was happening, he'd stop fighting immediately and take any pain Dad could dish out.
Adam focused on holding his brother's leg and tried to block everything else out, but he couldn't ignore the panic in Sam's voice as he whispered, "Dean, Dean its ok. It's ok. You're ok."
Sam's mantra of reassurance seemed to ground Dean and within moments he became still, his only movement the involuntary shaking of his leg.
"Is he going into shock?" Adam whispered across Dean's injured leg to their father.
John only briefly glanced up at Dean's face before returning his intent focus back on treating the wound.
"No.," he said, "He hasn't lost that much blood. It's just the pain and adrenaline,"
Adam nodded, loosening his tight hold on Dean's knee and reaching down to grab another clean piece of gauze for Dad. He was glad it wasn't shock. He didn't know that much about medicine yet, but he'd heard people yell "he's going into shock!" on medical shows on tv and it always seemed dramatic and really bad for the patient.
John tried to work quickly, but he had to be meticulous in cleaning and covering the burn. He knew any fragment of residue could start an infection that would devastate Dean's entire body. He fixated on his task, ignoring Dean's involuntary flinches of pain and Sam's steady, rhythmic whispered reassurances.
Outside of his scream of pain in the beginning, Dean didn't make a sound through the whole process, only shaking and halting intakes of breath and the chattering of his teeth when he let the air out. John kicked himself for not giving the boy something to take the edge off before he started working.
"Sam, get your brother the good pain meds. Adam, go grab some extra blankets." John said, finishing and standing up from the chair and grabbing a fresh, sterilized towel.
As Sam left Dean's side, John stepped up taking the cloth and beginning to clean off the blood that had dried around his son's face.
"Can you lean a little left for me son? Need to see if this head wound of yours needs stitches," he asked gently.
Adam came back from across the room after digging in the motel room closet and finding another blanket. He watched as Dean turned his head and Dad very gently took the damp cloth and began to dab at his son's hair. Adam felt a little uncomfortable watching the scene. It felt so intimate. Dad wasn't normally a gentle kinda guy and seeing him ask and not order Dean to do something, made Adam scared. Maybe Dean was hurt worse than he thought.
Sam came back with water and a handful of pills, kneeling down between the motel beds so Dean could take them from his hand without moving.
"Every 4 hours, Sam," John said, continuing to examine Dean's head.
"Yes, sir," Sam replied sincerely.
Adam knew exactly as Dad did, that if Sam was told to make sure Dean took meds every 4 hours that's exactly what would happen, no matter what else was happening or how much Dean fought or complained about it later. Sam took Dean's care just a seriously as Dean did Sam's.
Dean took the pills, putting them in his mouth, grabbing the water glass from Sam and taking a small sip, all without moving his head an inch.
"Get him a glass of whiskey too Sam," Dad said, dabbing at Dean's scalp, causing Dean to close his eyes and grimace in pain.
Sam took the glass from Dean and went over to their father's duffle bag without a word. Adam was surprised; he'd expected Sam to challenge Dad. Even Adam knew you weren't supposed to mix pain meds and alcohol. But maybe that was just another part of Winchester triage.
"No stitches on this one," John said, causing Dean to let out a sigh of relief; one John wanted to echo as well, "You hurt anywhere else son?"
Dean started to nod, then stopped himself, clearly feeling the massive headache his concussion and head wound had caused. "No.," he said, his voice dry and rough.
"You think you can sit up enough to get that shirt off?" John asked, pointing down to the bloody flannel Dean was wearing.
"Yeah," Dean said, slowly sitting up a little and beginning to unbutton his shirt.
Adam stood at the foot of the bed, watching and feeling useless as Dad helped Dean peel off his shirt. He kept waiting for Dean to notice him and make some sarcastic comment like "enjoying the show" or "next time I'm charging", but he didn't. He was silent as Dad helped him remove the flannel and then gently pulled his undershirt over his head. Adam watched closely as Dad managed to help Dean all while keeping the handful of gauze on Dean's scalp; Adam guessed it was so he wouldn't start bleeding again with the movement, but the tenderness of it was a little overwhelming and frightening.
Suddenly Sam appeared beside them with one of Dean's clean shirts, before Adam had even noticed he was missing. Sam helped Dean get the shirt on, leaving it open and unbuttoned, while Dad continued to press the gauze to his head.
"Shit," Dean whispered as he lay back on the bed, the pain of the small movements leaving him breathless with little beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"You're gonna be alright son," John assured him, with a confidence he didn't quite feel, "Those pain meds should kick in soon,"
John nodded over to Sam, encouraging him to hand Dean the whiskey glass he had brought over and placed on the table between the two beds. Sam grabbed the glass and handed it to Dean, watching as his brother leaned up on his elbows and downed the whole glass in one gulp.
Dean lay back down gently and John couldn't help but gently brush a hand across his forehead, "You get some rest. You'll feel better soon."
Dean closed his eyes with a tiny nod and Sam pulled up the extra blankets Adam had found, tucking them around their brother.
John watched his oldest son; eyes closed, trying to control the pain that was coursing through his young body and John felt mishmash of feelings began to build inside him.
He should have been there.
He should be the one laying in this bed, not Dean.
He shouldn't have brought the boys out on this one.
But it was supposed to be a simple job. The research said it would be simple.
The research.
As the memory solidified, John felt his guilt transforming into rage. They'd been caught blind. Surprised by the second monster. Normally they would have known about a second wendigo in the area. John had been adamant about teaching the boys extensive reconnaissance when gathering information about a hunt. It was extremely rare that anything fell through the cracks, especially not something big like this. It was then John remembered his youngest son's offhand remark from two days ago, and he struggled to control the beast of fury that was waking inside him.
"Is he gonna be ok?" Adam suddenly whispered, interrupting John's thoughts.
"Fine," he said turning away briskly.
Adam looked across the bed at Sam for an explanation of Dad's sudden shift, but Sam was still watching Dean anxiously. Adam stood restlessly at the end of the bed for a moment, unsure of what to do. Standing around watching Dean sleep was getting creepy, but also didn't wanna leave his brother's side in case he needed something. Sam must have felt the same, because he sat down on the other motel bed across from Dean, still watching. One glance at Dad, furiously scrubbing his hands at the kitchen sink and Adam decided sticking close to his brothers was the wise thing to do.
The room was quiet for a long time, only the sound of Dad quietly cleaning up and Dean's soft breathing filling the room. Although he said nothing, Sam and Adam could feel the tension radiating off their father as he worked.
This wasn't the first hunt with an injury that Adam had seen, but it was the first time he'd had seen one of his brothers get seriously hurt. Sure, Dad had come home several times with some pretty impressive wounds, but never Sam or Dean. Adam figured Dad protected them while out on hunts, that's why he always got hurt and they were ok. He didn't know what had happened this time and frankly, he was afraid to ask.
Thankfully Dean didn't seem too bad off, at least not as bad as it had seemed when they had dragged him through the door. Adam was almost sure that when he work up again, Dean would brush off the whole thing and demand they go back out and train tomorrow.
Judging by Dad's surly movements around the kitchen though, he didn't seem ready to brush it off and get back to work.
"Sam," Dad called from the kitchen, his deep voice low in the quiet room.
He may have only said Sam's name, but both boys knew instantly that it was an order, a 'get your ass over here' kinda order.
Sam didn't sigh or scowl like he normally did when Dad beckoned him. He didn't feel like he had the energy. For once he didn't really want to fight with Dad. There was only one way this was gonna end and he wished they'd just get on with it already.
"You got anything to say?" Dad asked, keeping his voice low.
Sam didn't answer right away, only stared back at his father. But then again he never answered right away. It wasn't intentional, but he often found himself trying to find the right words to make himself understood, or trying to hold in his own temper only to have it build inside him in the silence until it exploded in a tsunami of vicious words and accusations.
The room was quiet as John waited, leaving the silence between them, expecting Sam to fill the void.
Adam held his breath and watched the two stare each other down, until suddenly and unexpectedly Sam surrendered, averting his gaze down to Dad's boots, anger and guilt flooding his young face.
"It was an accident," he said, his voice just above a whisper.
"Accident?" John questioned skeptically, his voice dangerously low.
The tension in the room was palpable and Adam felt fear tighten in his stomach. He hated the conflict that constantly existed between Sam and Dad. They were almost always at each other's throats and it seemed to be getting worse.
Adam looked over at Dean, still sleeping on the bed, blissfully unaware of the situation developing in the kitchen. Dean was the peacekeeper in the family, quick to jump between the two warring sides and calm everyone down. But with Dean out of commission, did that responsibly fall to Adam? He'd never considered it before. What was he supposed to do? He was 12. And small. It's not like he could physically get between them like Dean did, they were both still a head taller than he was.
"Accident?" He heard Dad repeat again; standing up from the counter he'd been leaning against and moving toward Sam.
To his credit, Sam didn't flinch or back away. He stood still, his eyes firmly fixed on the worn linoleum floor.
"No," John said seriously. "I wanna hear what happened. Everything."
Even from across the room Adam could see Sam's jaw tighten and he knew his brother was struggling to keep the reins on his temper, "You know what happened Dad. You were there."
"Clearly, I don't Sam," came Dad's terse reply.
Sam clenched his teeth and scowled at the floor. Dad was really gonna do this. Try to drag a confession out of him. Well, Sam was gonna be damned if that was gonna happen.
"Come on Sam, don't make me beat it out of you," Dad said, aggravated.
"What does it matter? You're gonna beat me anyway." Sam said resentfully to the floor.
John gave Sam a dark stare, clenching his teeth and fists in an effort not smack the insolence out of the boy right there. John was a strict disciplinarian, he knew that, but he went to great lengths in an effort to control of his temper. Which is more than he could say of his own stepfather. Admittedly there had been times when he'd had too much to drink after a difficult hunt that he'd let loose on one son or another, but those were extenuating circumstances. Never when he was in his right mind would he do anything more than punish his children, as they deserved. He understood that they might not see it that way, but they were children. They'd understand when they got older. They'd see that everything he'd ever done was to protect and prepare them for the awful world that lay in wait for them.
The silence was again building in the room and the air was becoming heavy with tension. Adam sat motionless on the motel bed, keeping one eye on Dean and the other on the mounting confrontation in the kitchen. Although the argument was no longer in strained whispers, Dean was still passed out and didn't appear to be disturbed. Wishing that whatever painkillers Dad had given Dean weren't so strong, Adam rallied his courage and began to inch his way over to the kitchen, preparing himself to something to help Sam.
"It was an accident!" Sam said finally, collapsing under the weight of his father's silent intensity.
"An accident caused by your carelessness!" John shot back immediately, his voice coming out in a harsh whisper, "We went in blind Sam!"
"Your brother was hurt tonight because of you! When are you gonna realize hunting comes first? It has to come first! If we don't have all the information- people get hurt! Your brothers get hurt!"
"Dad?" Adam called quietly from the edge of the kitchen, getting as close as he dared to the commotion.
Dad shot him a look that made Adam bite his tongue and shrink back against the wood paneling. Hating himself for being afraid, for not manning up and defending his brother, Adam slunk back over to the motel room beds and sat down across from Dean.
"Dad." Sam said through clenched teeth, "You know I would never want you guys to get hurt.
"Of course not Sam," John said, his voice in control but still thick with anger, "but you need to understand how serious this is."
"I do Dad! Why would you think I didn't?"
"Because you went off chasing a skirt instead of getting us information about this case!" Dad yelled, losing control of his temper.
Sam's eyes flew over to Adam accusingly.
Adam stared back openmouthed with shock. He didn't know that was a secret when he told Dad. He didn't even really tell him, just mentioned offhandedly how Sam had been out with a girl. Adam had thought it was pretty cool at the time, Sam getting a girl. Especially since they'd only been in town three days. Adam had just been complaining to Dad that he was the only Winchester without any game; that even Sam could pick up a girl quick if he wanted to. He didn't know Dad wasn't supposed to know.
"Don't look at him." John said drawing Sam back, "You were told to be interviewing local shop owners about the case. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think you could get by on half-assing your research?"
"You know better than this Sam! Look what happens when you don't do your job!" John continued, angrily pointing a finger at Dean who was still oblivious on the bed. "You think he can hunt on that leg? Drive even? It's gonna be weeks before he's healed! And that's on you!"
"Me?!" Sam shot, back no longer able to hold in his own temper, "I'm not the only one in this family who can research and interview people Dad,"
John took a threatening step forward.
"You watch that fucking tone with me, boy," he growled, "We each had assigned tasks, this was yours."
Sam clenched his teeth again in a scowl, shame flushing in his cheeks. "It was an accident," he ground out, his voice shaky but determined.
Sam didn't care what Dad said. It wasn't wrong to want to go out with a girl. Dean did it all the time, but of course, when Sam finally catches a break with a local chick Dad has to act like it's the end of the world. All the research had been done; he'd interviewed every shop owner in this piss ant town. Of course, he had. Sam knew hunting was important, and the research before going in was the most important part. He wasn't an idiot. He'd never knowingly let Dad or Dean go in without all the information he had. Just because there wasn't any more information and Sam happened to get a date, Dad decided to throw the two together as it being his fault they got jumped by the second bastard.
Fine. Let him think that.
Dad glared at Sam. Adam gulped down the nerves that were beginning to shake inside him and slowly slid down to the floor beside Dean. If he couldn't man up and help Sam, he was at least gonna stay out of sight. Not only that but being a little closer to Dean, even unconscious, made him feel a little safer in a room filled with wild Winchester rage.
Adam watched from behind Dean as Dad and Sam stared at each other for a moment, before Dad took a step back and away from Sam, reaching down and beginning to undo his belt buckle.
Sam's scowl faltered and panic flashed across his face, but he hid it quickly.
"I'm almost 17 Dad. You really gonna give me the belt?" he questioned cynically.
John paused, his hands on the loops of his jeans, "I'll do this as long as it takes for you to learn boy. Hunting comes first. Family comes first. Always. This one is on you."
Sam continued to glare, surprising Adam with his audacity. "And what if I won't stand still and take it?"
John didn't move, but returned his son's glare and challenge. "Then I'll make you take it."
John paused a moment, letting the threat sink in. In truth hoped Sam wouldn't call his bluff on this one. The boy was getting so damn bullheaded John was never sure what challenge Sam might call him on, but he had to keep his game face on.
"Do you want that Sam? Do you want me to make you take it?" John growled, doubling down.
Sam's confidence wavered and fear flickered across his eyes. As much as Sam wanted to test his father, he knew this probably wasn't an empty threat; John would tie him down and beat him if necessary. Sam's chest rose and fell unevenly as he watched his father, fear coiled deep in his stomach.
He hated this. This feeling of being stuck; backed against a wall, suffering under his father's controlling wrath. Over the years he'd thought through all the things he could do to try to get away from his overbearing and vengeful father, but none were a viable option, especially now with Adam to consider. Sam had even gone so far as to consider calling Child Protective Services and turning Dad in for neglect, if not for abuse. He'd mulled the idea over for a long time after Dad's last round of drunken rage had them sleeping in the Impala, but in the end, he couldn't do it. The call would devastate Dean and throw Adam into a broken system with no one to protect him. At least here they had each other and barring the occasional run-ins with Dad's temper they were safe.
Besides another year and he'd be 18. Dad could no longer drag him back if he ran away. He could no longer force Sam into doing anything he didn't want to do. He could no longer bend Sam over the tailgate of the trunk and belt him on the side of the road for being disrespectful, or drag him into a motel bathroom to whip into submission.
But for now, Sam was faced with having to willingly surrender to belt or being forced to submit, a choice that burned a hot ember of rage into his chest.
"Fine," he said finally, still glaring at his father.
John returned his glare with a hard look, before moving his hands to continue to remove his belt.
"Not here though," Sam said, trying to hide the shake in his voice, nodding over to Adam and Dean.
John looked across the motel room, his eyes resting briefly on Dean's still form and Adam cowering nearby.
"Fine. Bathroom."
Adam knew that's not what Sam had in mind. He was sure that when Sam said 'not here' he'd been implying that he and Dad go outside or go for a drive to have their 'talk', but Dad wasn't going to free him from the humiliation.
Sam turned away then and stalked off to the bathroom not even glancing at Adam as he passed.
Dad waited a moment and then followed behind him, pausing to look down at Adam, still perched on the floor between the two beds.
"You learn from this too." He said, staring down at his youngest.
Adam nodded quickly, choking on the "Yes sir," he whispered.
Adam watched hesitantly as Dad walked away, sliding his belt out from its loops, the whisper of leather against denim sending a shudder down Adam's spine. He caught a quick sight of Sam in the bathroom, hands already placed on either side of the motel room sink, bending slightly at the waist, his head tipped forward, long shaggy brown hair hiding the reflection of his face in the mirror before the door was closed.
Turning back around to Dean, Adam laid his head on the mattress beside his brother's still sleeping form, guilt bubbling up inside him. He should have helped Sam somehow. Dean wouldn't just let Dad do this. Dean would stop it. Dean would do something. But Adam wasn't Dean. And Adam didn't know what to do.
He couldn't stand this. He was so completely helpless when it came to Dad. Dean was teaching him to fight and Sam was teaching him to think, but all of that was useless when it came to challenging the man giving the orders. Sam was the only one who consistently challenged Dad's authority and look where he ended up. Adam was ashamed to say that he preferred to keep his head down and his backside safe and just follow orders. There were times though, times like this when he wanted to be stronger or braver when he wanted to at least try to stand up to Dad like Sam did. He wanted to convince him to listen. Maybe Sam had a good reason. Maybe it really was some kind of accident.
The sound of the first strike came clearly through the thin motel room door and startled Adam from his thoughts. He quickly buried his head in the mattress, pulling his arms up to cover his ears and hide the tears that were threatening him. He hadn't yet had to suffer the wrath of John Winchester's belt, but he feared it. He'd heard Sam get it, seen the welts and watched his brother walk with stiffness for days after. His mother never even spanked him growing up and now he lived in fear of whatever disobedient act might earn him a turn on the other side of the leather.
The sound of leather hitting denim continued and Adam wished whoever designed this motel room had made better doors. Sam and Dad might as well be standing right beside him for all the sound damping the thin bathroom door was doing. At the sound of each blow, Adam could feel himself flinch, trying not to count; trying not to think about the pain Sam was suffering.
He wished Dean would wake up.
Unfortunately, whatever cocktail of pain meds and whiskey Sam had given him had Dean out cold, despite the harsh sounds coming from the bathroom.
Soon their father opened the bathroom and stalked out, slamming it closed behind him. Adam didn't move, keeping his face hidden, ashamed of the tears that were now streaking his face. He felt Dad stop; standing over him and Adam held his breath waiting.
"Take care of your brother." He said, his voice gruff and uneven.
Adam's own breath hitched and he lifted his head cautiously, watching as Dad threaded his belt back through the loops of his jeans.
"I'll get dinner," Dad said shortly, grabbing his coat off the chair and walking out, the motel room door closing forcefully behind him.
Adam didn't move. He couldn't. He wanted to hide. He wanted to disappear. Shame of not helping Sam and the fear of that thick black belt had frozen him to the spot.
"He's gone Adam," he heard whispered from behind him
Adam looked up at the voice, seeing Sam leaning weakly against the doorframe of the bathroom. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked tired as hell, but he managed a weak smile for his younger brother.
"I'm ok," he said reassuringly.
"Sam… I..." Adam started, jumping up from the floor quickly and wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand in embarrassment, "I…"
"It's ok," Sam said, stiffly walking over to the bed where Dean lay.
"Sam, man," Adam started again, "I'm SO sorry."
"Adam, it's not your fault ok?" Sam said quietly, moving over to Dean and adjusting the blankets covering him, "You had nothing to do with this,"
"Sam…"
"Adam. Stop." Sam said vehemently, putting an end to Adam's pleading.
Adam nodded, grateful that Sam didn't seem angry with him for spilling the beans to Dad.
"Do you uh...want some ice?" Adam asked hesitantly, not sure of how to help his brother.
Sam shook his head again. "I'm fine."
By the time Sam was ready to wake Dean for another round of painkillers, they'd eaten an uncomfortable meal with Dad and then he'd taken off to go back to the hunt site to confirm that there were no other loose ends that needed to be tied up. Adam had offered to go along, hoping to ease some of the strain still simmering between him and Sam, but Dad quickly refused.
"Dean?" Sam whispered quietly, standing over his brother attempting to wake him gently.
Dean mumbled in his sleep but didn't wake.
Anxious to help Adam came over and put a hand on Dean's upper arm, shaking him gently, "Dean?" he called softly.
Suddenly Adam's wrist was twisted violently and he fell to his knees beside Dean's motel bed, shrieking in surprise and pain.
"Dean!" Sam admonished from across the bed.
Dean awoke fully and quickly released Adam's arm "Ah... Sorry kid," Dean said, grimacing as he adjusted his injured leg.
Adam stood up slowly, shaking out the ache of Dean's instinctive move.
"Fuck man, I'm loopy." Dean said, absently rubbing his forehead, "What'd you give me Sam?"
"Just something to take the edge off," Sam replied, with a shrug.
"Shit. Take the edge off? I feel like Fear and Loathing over here, jeez." Dean said, lying back against the pillows.
"Fine" Sam said, "Just one this time then."
Dean nodded gently and reached for the pill and water glass Sam held out for him looking up at his brother for the first time.
"You ok Sam?" He asked, taking note of his brother's surly expression.
"Yeah. Fine Dean."
"Hmm." Dean said looking over at Adam, judging his youngest brother's expression as well, "You sure?"
"Yeah, Dean. I'm fine."
"Then why do you both look like someone kicked your puppy?" Dean asked, still considering Adam.
Adam tried to dodge Dean's intense stare, finding a sudden interest in the motel bedding.
"What the hell happened while I was out?" Dean questioned roughly, sounding exactly like Dad.
Sam was stoically silent and Adam bit his tongue, not willing to divulge anything Sam didn't want to share.
"Dad's pissed. Nothing new," Sam said with a shrug.
Dean sighed in defeat, "Yeah I figured. He's right though. I damn well almost barbequed myself."
"That wasn't your fault Dean," Sam said seriously.
"Really Sam?" Dean asked sarcastically "How'd ya figure? Maybe someone else dropped the torch on my leg?"
"Come on Dean! You got jumped from behind!" Sam said emphatically.
"I should have been watching," Dean said dismissively
"No. I should have." Sam said seriously. "I'm sorry Dean."
"It's not on you man. It's my own damn fault." Dean said, looking Sam in the eye.
It didn't matter what Sam thought, what Dad thought, or really even what happened during the hunt; if things got messed up at all Dean would blame himself. He felt all the weight of responsibility even though he'd been the one to save the fight by throwing that knife into the throat of the first wendigo, buying enough time for Sam to roast its ass and Dad to gank the second one. It didn't matter that Dean had saved everyone's asses. He could only feel the embarrassment of the failure that he'd gotten himself hurt.
"I'm an idiot. I can't believe I let that dick get the drop on me," Dean said, staring sadly at the motel's popcorn ceiling, "Dad's gonna kick my ass."
"Don't worry about it Dean," Sam said trying to end Dean's self-deprecation and grabbing the now empty water glass.
"Easy for you to say, man. You aren't the one staring down an ass warming from old J.W himself."
Sam rolled his eyes and said nothing, choosing instead to walk over to Dad's half open duffle bag. He grabbed the whiskey bottle leaning on the top and filled Dean's glass half full before bringing it back over.
"Dad doesn't know you did that, " he said, handing Dean the drink and nodding down at Dean's bandaged leg, "So seriously man, don't worry about it."
Dean stared skeptically at his younger brother, "So you want me to lie?"
"No," Sam said tersely, "Just keep your mouth shut."
Adam watched the exchange a little in awe of Sam. His brother was amazing. Sam just stood there and let Dad blame him, let Dad beat him for something that wasn't his fault. Then he just stood and lied to Dean about taking the beating, just because he knew it would upset his brother.
Later Adam would have to ask. He couldn't understand why Sam would put himself through such misery.
"Why'd you lie Sam?" he'd ask.
"Why not? It's better this way. Dad doesn't need to know, Dean's not embarrassed, everyone's happy."
"Yeah except you."
And Sam would shrug, brushing off taking the blame and a beating like it was no big deal like it wasn't the most unjust thing Adam had ever witnessed.
God, he had a lot to learn about being a Winchester brother.