Timeline- Adam just turned 13 and experiences his first hunt with John Winchester.
Dean stood up from the motel bed again, aimlessly moving toward the kitchenette in the room stopping short to glance out the window.
Behind him Sam sighed and chuckled "Dude, you'd hear the Impala from a mile away," he said.
Dean ignored his brother in favor of searching the small kitchen area looking for something to eat or better, something to drink. He'd been against Dad taking Adam out hunting from the start and since they'd left four days ago he'd thought about little else.
Adam had only been with his father and half-brothers for a little over eight months since his mother died. Dean and Sam had worked hard at training their younger brother - per their father's orders, but Dean knew the kid wasn't ready. He'd just turned 13 for Christ's sake. He knew that both he and Sam had been hunting almost regularly at that age but they had been training their entire lives for this job. This time last year Adam was a 7th grader only worried about grades and girls. When Sam was his age he was already a crack shot with any gun or rifle and a mean son of bitch when it came to hand to hand combat. It never failed to impress Dean just how vicious his brother could be when it came down to it. You'd never know to look at Sam but under those sweet puppy dog eyes there was a fire and wrath that burned pretty damn hot. Dean feared Adam didn't have that same anger or whatever it was that made Sam fight with every molecule of himself. There was never a chance Sam would go down without bringing his opponent down with him. Adam? Dean didn't know. Granted he'd only known the kid for eight months. Just another reason he shouldn't be out hunting. Only eight months of knowing the true depths of evil in the world? Dean didn't think it was nearly enough time to process. In fact he knew it wasn't. The poor kid had only recently stopped having nightmares about the beasts that killed his mother. If Dad were thinking he'd have waited to take Adam out. It didn't matter that this job was only a "milk run" an easy poltergeist that hadn't even killed anyone yet, although from their research both Sam and Dean knew it was headed that way.
John was just too anxious to get Adam started in the family business, trained up and ready to protect himself. Adam was all too happy to go along, after seeing what happened to his mother he was ready to kill and dismember every evil S.O.B he could get his hands on. He threw himself headlong into the Winchester training regiment, never complaining even though it was clear to both his older brothers the toll it was taking on him. Dean thought that it was maybe more than just revenge that fueled his youngest brother. He knew the look. He knew it well. That deep unfulfilled need for their father's approval and praise. Dean knew the look could be found plastered on his own face from time to time when he didn't have the presence of mind to hide it. Dean wanted Adam to hunt, he understood John's insistence, but every piece of him couldn't help but wish his father had waited longer.
Opening and closing the two empty cabinets above the tiny sink Dean couldn't stifle his restlessness any longer. He was gonna have to get out. Hit the bar or a burger joint or something to get his mind off his brother and his first hunt.
He was just about to grab his coat off the back of the tiny motel room chair when he heard the distant rumble of the Impala's engine. He'd know that sound anywhere, 20 miles off even. That car was his baby, the only thing his father ever listened to him about, the only thing that John Winchester ever admitted that Dean might know a little more about. It was a hard won battle and Dean kept that car in peak condition not only because he loved the machinery of it, but also to protect the edge of knowledge he had earned.
After a few moments Sam's head lifted too, hearing the familiar sound. Dean knew that Sam was just as worried about Adam. He hadn't said much since Adam and John had left but the few snarky sidelong comments he had let slip made it clear that Sam was seething that their father would take such an unprepared kid out on a hunt, no matter how "not even dangerous " John deemed it to be.
Dean tried to play it cool, burying the instinct to run out to the car and pull his brother out to inspect for injury. Instead, he moved to sit back on the motel bed across from Sam where his weapons were already spread in state of half clean. Sam hid a smile at the movement, to which Dean gave him a glare, but before either could say a word the door of the motel opened.
Dean stood without realizing it and watched his father march into the room, tossing his worn dirty duffle under the table in the kitchenette. Dean instantly scanned his father for injuries, an effort of habit more than anything. John was dusty, dirty and had swath of dried blood on his neck. Dean knew from his father's stride that the blood was not his own and hoped that some supernatural beast had met a dark and bloody end by the hand of John Winchester.
Straining to look around their father without appearing too obvious Dean caught sight of his youngest brother, shuffling slowly into the room. Adam too was dirty and dusty, with pristine white bandage on his forehead near his hairline, dried blood around it clearly his own. The kid trudged in; eyes on the floor, exhaustion following him like a shadow.
The two older Winchester boys hurried over to Adam and Dean suddenly didn't care if his father saw the unbridled concern written on his face.
"How was it?" Dean asked, eyeing the bandage on Adam's forehead.
"What happened!?" Sam demanded.
"Relax boys." John said dismissively. "Your brother is fine, just a fall."
Adam was quiet between them. He could feel both his brothers examining him closely looking for other injuries or signs that what John said about the hunt wasn't true. Adam had no words for them however. He was fine. Mostly. The hunt was fine. Mostly.
Dean took hold of Adam's chin gently, forcing him to look up and into the worried eyes of his oldest brother. Adam knew that Dean wouldn't openly contradict their father's declaration that Adam was "fine" but he could feel that Dean needed more. Dean wanted to see for himself, from Adam, that he was ok. Adam tried to give Dean the reassurance that his brother desperately wanted, but he couldn't quiet complete the half smile he forced on his lips. He felt too tired, still too scared and scarred by what happened.
Even after months of preparing for this hunt, it turned out Adam was not ready. At least not as ready as he thought he was. Adam wasn't sure he would ever have been ready. He was beginning to wonder if he should even be a hunter. As much as he wanted revenge on the things that murdered his mother, this hunt it was…it was just too much.
"Sam, why don't you help Adam get cleaned up?" Dean said, taking his hand from Adam's chin and resting it comfortably on the boy's young head, absentmindedly stroking his younger brother's hair.
Adam could feel a weighted look pass between his brothers, but unlike most of times he felt it happen he was too drained to wonder what was unsaid.
Sam gently took Adam's arm and led him toward the motel room bathroom, easily grabbing Adam's duffle off the floor without pausing in his stride.
Dean watched them go and once the door closed he turned on his father.
"So?" he asked, trying to hold onto the thin edge of respectfulness in his tone, "What happened?"
John had been busying himself in the kitchenette, washing his hands and face and was now scouring the cabinets for any type of alcohol to take the edge off, as was his habit after a hunt.
"He did good Dean." John replied, not turning to face his son as he found a glass and begin to look in earnest for the liquor he needed to fill it. "He got tossed down some stairs by the damn ghost, but he took it like a champ. Probably gonna feel it tomorrow though,"
"What!" Dean hissed, unable to hide his irritation that his father would let Adam get hurt in any way, "How did it even get close to him?"
John turned slowly, feeling the tingle of anger and shame beginning to rise within him. Dean wasn't the son he expected to get this interrogation from which made him feel even more ashamed of his failure.
"Spirits are unpredictable, son. You know that." John deflected expertly.
Dean knew that, of course, but that wouldn't stop him from holding John accountable for every scratch and bruise that Adam suffered. John knew however, that Dean couldn't be any angrier at him than he already was with himself.
John had convinced himself that Adam was ready for his first hunt. He'd been with his new family for a while now and by all regards was becoming an excellent hunter. He had all the fiery rage of revenge that John had early in his hunting career and enough of the Winchester brand of stubbornness and drive that he'd picked up the training and lore relatively quickly. John had ignored Dean's concerned pleas to let Adam train longer and Sam's insolent remarks about John's own hurried desire for Adam's first hunt. He had ignored them because he needed the boy to be ready. The overwhelming urge to ensure that Adam could protect himself, could fight against the evil in the world and survive, blinded John to reality.
The reality was that the kid did do very well. He was valiant in the face of his first ghost, despite clearly being terrified beyond measure. He followed orders to the letter, handled his weapon with expert care and never complained about the pain he endured at the hands of the evil spirit. John was proud of the boy. He couldn't remember clearly if he had said it aloud after the hunt, since he was too worried about staunching the flow of blood from Adam's head, but he was proud.
"Dad…" Dean started behind him.
"Dean, he's fine." John said abruptly, unable to face the embarrassment that his eldest son was right.
Because despite the fact that Adam did exactly as he was expected to when the ghost appeared before them John had undoubtedly seen an unnatural look of fear and distress pass over his son's face and he instantly regretted pushing him into the hunt.
"There's nothing here." John declared, putting an empty glass back in the cabinet. "I'm gonna go on a supply run."
Dean knew "a supply run" was Dad code for finding a liquor store or a bar that his father could hole up in, but he didn't say anything. Only giving a cursory, "Yes sir," when he was told, as always, to look after the boys.
Dean had to grit his teeth and fight the urge to punch the wall as he watched his father's hurried exit. His father's need to hit the bar told him all he needed to know about how well Adam's first hunt really had gone. Why couldn't Dad have listened, just this once? Dean ran a hand roughly through his hair, worrying again.
At that moment the bathroom door opened and Sam led Adam out. The younger boy was cleaned up, but still listless, easily letting himself be led to the motel room bed.
A quick look at Sam told Dean that Adam hadn't spoken while Sam was cleaning him up and it was killing Sam not to know what happened during the hunt. It was killing Dean too. Anytime his brothers were in pain Dean's heart gave a visceral twist that sent shock waves of agony throughout his body. Dean had to find out what happened. He had to fix it.
"So," Dean said forcing on a light tone, "How'd you like your first Casper?"
Adam sat down heavily on the bed, not looking either brother in the eye and gave a shrug, "It was fine," he mumbled.
"Fine?" Dean said, "Did you get to gank the son of bitch? Feels good huh?" he asked, keeping his tone jovial. Based on his own experience Dean knew the more he could joke about anything the easier it was to deal with.
Normally Adam would play along, making light of everything with Dean. Any injury in training, any unexpected move or depressing event in the Winchester life was cause for a joke or sarcastic remark. Dean was getting impressed at some of the quick-witted digs that Adam was beginning to come up with. It was fun to have a brother who would humor him in trying to lighten the mood; Sam was never on board for that kind of coping. He was always too in his head about everything, never able to just let shit go. Adam was at least willing to put on a good front and try to ignore some of the misery in their lives.
Not this time though. As much as he wanted to calm his brother's fears and play along with Dean, Adam couldn't muster the energy.
"I think I'm just gonna go to sleep," Adam said, scooting himself up the bed and under the blankets.
"You sure Adam?" Sam asked, "Have you even had dinner?"
"No, but its ok," Adam mumbled, bringing the blankets up around his ears and turning his face into the pillow. "It was fine really. I'm just really tired."
Adam knew that his brothers were again exchanging their worried looks. He could feel the tension between them in the room. He just couldn't deal with them now. He just needed to sleep. Needed to not think about the hunt for a while and then it would be fine. It went fine. Hunting was fine. Everything would be fine.
Neither Sam nor Dean moved from the side of the bed and silently watched as Adam fell asleep. And once their younger brother was asleep neither knew what to do with themselves.
Sam looked at Dean for direction and Dean was only able to give him a shrug in return. Adam could be a hard kid to read and although Dean knew he wasn't full trained and ready to hunt, this sullen silence was not the outcome he had expected. Dean supposed he'd expected Adam to either come home totally excited and in love with hunting like he was or scared out of his wits and totally against it like Sam was. Right now it looked like Adam was neither.
Dean sat back down on the bed across from Adam, picking up his rifle and absently running his hand along the dark wooden handle. He watched as Sam carefully moved his books over and sat down next to Adam, scrutinizing their younger brother for any signs of distress.
They sat silently for a long time, each brother lost in his own world until Dean heard a small whimper come from the bed next to him.
He instantly looked over to his brothers, already on high alert. Adam was still asleep, hair tousled across the bandage on his forehead and blankets tucked up under his chin. Sam was asleep now too, slightly propped up against the headboard of the motel bed, his own head lolling on his chest with one hand on the open book in his lap and the other on his younger brother's back.
As he watched his younger brothers sleep Dean thought that maybe he had imagined the sound. Adam's nightmares usually came out in a blood-curdling scream that would jolt both older brothers from their beds instantly, usually armed. Placing the knife he had been sharpening down on the nightstand between the beds Dean leaned in a little closer to watch.
Adam shifted slightly in his sleep, a small frown creasing his brow. Now Dean was on standby, ready to wake Adam if the nightmare took hold, or let him sleep if he was able to get free. As Dean continued to watch his little brother he felt himself breathe a sigh of relief when Adam's forehead finally smoothed into a calm slumber.
Dean turned back to his weapons running a weary hand over his eyes, wondering what time Dad would come stumbling back in. Deciding to go ahead and clean up for the night he sat down again to put away all the weapons he had been half-heartedly cleaning and organizing all night.
As he put away his last set of witch killing bullets, he heard Adam whimper again from behind him. He turned to find his brother grimacing in his sleep, sweat shimmering on his forehead; eyes scrunched shut and jaw clenched. Dean kicked himself for getting distracted from the most important task he had. Adam's nightmare had clearly started and Dean knew the only hope of freeing his brother from the terror in his mind was to wake him as gradually as possible.
Leaning over his littlest brother, Dean gently touched Adam's arm "Adam?" he said softly, trying to wake him slowly and calmly.
Dean moved to brush some of the hair off his brother's sweaty forehead and as his hand touched Adam's hair, Adam's eyes burst open wildly. Suddenly Adam screamed and threw a wild, powerful punch catching Dean off guard and hitting him in the left ear so hard he saw stars.
Using the hand that had been resting on Adam's arm, Dean now gripped his brother and tried to get a hold of his other arm, causing Adam to thrash, fight and scream for everything he was worth.
"Adam! Stop!" Sam yelled, waking up instantly to the sound of the struggle and jumping right in to help Dean.
"Adam! Wake up kid!" Dean grunted, trying again to get a grip on Adam's right arm without hurting him, although the kid was whipping around at lightning speeds, smacking Dean painfully in the face and arms.
Suddenly Dean caught a flash of silver from the corner of his eye and immediately used all his strength to pin his younger brother's arm above his head.
"Sam!" Dean yelled nodding down to the newly sharpened hunting knife clenched tightly in Adam's fist. "Grab the fucking knife!"
"Adam. Come on Adam. Let go," Sam coached, working to pry Adam's fingers loose from the death grip he had on the blade.
"Ok, ok. I got it Dean, let off him." Sam said, finally getting the knife and tossing it on the floor away from his brothers.
Dean slowly let Adam's arms go and the moment he was free Adam scrambled up to the headboard pushing his back against it as hard as he could, as if it could ground him. He looked between his brothers, blinking rapidly trying to clear the dream and bring himself back to reality.
"What the hell kid?!" Dean said, looking at him incredulously.
Adam didn't respond and it was then Dean noticed that his brother was nearly hyperventilating, his chest rising and falling rapidly in an uneven pace.
"Calm down kid." Dean said, realizing too late that the statement came out as more of a John Winchester order then he meant it to.
"Adam?" Sam tried again, more gently.
Sam reached out to put his hand on Adam's shoulder, but Adam pulled away from the touch.
"Ok. Ok." Sam said, "Just breathe alright? You gotta calm down."
"Adam, seriously chill out." Dean reiterated.
Adam clenched and unclenched his fists and forced himself to take a deep breath. In through the nose, count to three, out through the mouth, as Sam had once told him.
Adam continued to breathe and tried to ignore his brother's intense stares until he felt his pulse slow to a more normal rate.
"Ok now?" Dean asked, noticing Adam's calm returning.
Adam nodded and swallowed hard. He'd had plenty of nightmares before, horrible ones, but none quite as disturbing as this one. He couldn't remember details but the feelings of it lingered, overwhelming him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked.
Adam didn't respond and instead scooted himself down into the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"I'll be fine." He murmured.
"Fine?" Dean asked, "Dude, you almost stabbed me with my own knife!"
Adam frowned, "Sorry."
Seeing the look on his brother's face Dean immediately felt guilty, "No… kid... it's fine. Look just... um... relax ok? Everything is fine. It was just a dream."
"I know that." Adam snarled back at him, "I'm not an idiot."
Adam watched as Dean gave Sam a look, which irritated and infuriated him.
"Stop it" he yelled, "Quit looking at me like that!"
Adam threw back the blankets and jolted from the bed pushing past Dean.
"Kid, calm down," Dean said gently, taking a small step toward where Adam stood in the middle of the motel room.
"Don't talk to me like that!" Adam yelled again "I'm not a mental patient you need to talk down! I'm fine! It was just a stupid dream!"
At this point Sam stood up from the bed, "Adam. It's ok. It was just a dream. And we're just trying to help."
"Well stop it!" Adam screamed, "Stop looking at me like I'm gonna break! Like there is something wrong with me! I'm fine! It was a stupid hunt and a stupid dream! I'm fine!"
"Alright fine," Dean barked, his patience fraying, "Then calm the hell down!"
"OK!" Adam yelled back, now panting and having to remind himself to breathe again.
The brothers were all silent, standing and staring at each other in the tiny motel room feeling the tension creep up the walls as they each waited to see who would make the first move.
"Fuck it." Dean said, breaking the standoff, "Sam, grab my bag. Adam, go sit down." he said motioning to the table, as he turned and walked into the kitchen area of the motel room.
Adam didn't move immediately and instead watched as Dean dug through the cabinets and came out with a coffee mug and two small glasses. He set them down on the counter and grabbed the duffle Sam handed him.
Sam sat down at the tiny table and noticed Adam still standing in the middle of the room. Sam threw his brother a gentle smile and a little nod toward the other chair at the table hoping he would accept the offer.
Adam hesitantly joined his brothers in the kitchen, watching as Dean dug around in his duffle and came out with a bottle of brown liquor.
"Don't either of you tell Dad I have this," he said holding up the bottle and eyeing them both.
"Yeah 'cause he'd steal it from you," Sam chuckled.
Dean gave his brother a half-hearted glare and opened the bottle pouring some of the liquid into each glass and his own mug.
"And you sure as hell better not tell him about this," he said, handing a glass to each brother.
Adam had to bite back a reluctant smile. There was no way he'd ever rat on his brothers about anything, but especially not something like this.
About half way through his glass the heavy rock of fear and shock that had been lying in Adam's stomach had softened into a warm stone and he generally felt a lot better. He was beginning to understand why his dad drank all the time.
Adam watched his brothers intently, each lost in their own thoughts, most likely of worry for him, Adam realized. Dean was leaning causally against the counter in the kitchen, his mug gripped tightly enough in one hand to reveal just how strained the situation had made him. Sam was leaned over the kitchen table across from Adam, idly tracing the rim of his glass looking out the window.
"So I didn't know that ghosts could go through you," Adam piped up, letting the liquor make him bold enough to talk about the hunt.
Both older boys looked at him immediately.
"The ghost touched you?" Sam questioned, his concern clear.
Adam looked at Dean, trying to gauge if he should continue, if having a ghost walk through you was normal or Winchester level normal anyway.
Dean's expression gave no indication however, but a slight tilt of Dean's head let Adam know that he at least wanted to know more about what happened.
"Well," Adam started, looking down into his glass, "I don't know. It wasn't like she put her hand out and touched me. It was like she walked through me? Or like she was inside me?" he said, struggling to find the words to explain the strange experience.
"Yeah?" Dean urged.
Adam took another drink, hoping it would help ease the fear that was building again as he relived the moment.
"Dad was in front of me. We burned the bones. We were just going to check the house to be sure. But there was a girl there. Another ghost. She was different from the one were there to take care of…She wasn't bad- or maybe she was I don't know. But she came from behind us. Everything got so cold and when I turned to look behind me I saw her for just a second, but then…" Adam paused before continuing, "… I felt her. Like inside of me, in my chest and down my arms. This cold hard feeling, like I swallowed ice water or something but in my veins. But also I knew stuff, like about her." Adam said, rushing on before he got too scared or embarrassed to continue, "It was like memories, but not my memories, hers I guess. Of a little white cat, her parents… how she died…."
Adam trailed off, remembering all the things he had seen, the things the ghost had showed him.
"Adam, did you tell Dad this?" Sam asked, trying to get Adam to look him in the eye.
Adam shook his head, his eyes still firmly on his glass on the table. "It all happened really fast, she went through me or whatever and then she was gone."
Dean stood up suddenly and rushed over to his duffle of weapons near the motel bed, rummaging around inside it.
He quickly found whatever it was he was looking for and in one fluid motion yelled "Adam!" before lobbing a piece of iron rebar at his little brother to catch.
Adam knocked over his whiskey with the sudden movement but was able to easily catch the bar.
"Iron, Dean?" Sam asked, skeptically.
"Yeah," Dean said, striding back over and taking the bar from Adam. "Just wanted to make sure ol' Casper is out of there."
Adam looked confusedly between his older brothers. Surely they weren't saying what he thought they were.
"You think she could still be inside me?!" he yelped.
"No kid," Dean replied calmly, "You know how ghosts are about iron. You couldn't have caught that bar if she was,"
"Are you sure?" Adam asked worriedly. It was horrible enough to have lived through that ghost touching him, it was terrifying to think of the possibility that he wasn't rid of her.
"We can do some tequila shots if you want?" Dean suggested with a smile, "A little salt and lime chaser and no ghost will want you."
"Dean." Sam admonished with an eye roll.
"Seriously guys," Adam questioned, "What was that? You guys never mentioned that a ghost could do that."
Sam looked over at Dean, who tightened his jaw in response.
"We…uh… we've never seen it," Sam admitted. "I think what happened to you was a ghost possession Adam. It's pretty rare."
Adam felt a little stunned at Sam's admission. Possessed. By a ghost.
Ugh.
"I've read about it before," Sam continued, "but the ones I've read about were pretty violent. The ghosts usually inhabited people and forced them to do their bidding, like getting revenge on the living, stuff like that."
"It doesn't sound like your ghost had any interest in that," Sam said.
Adam thought back to what the girl had shown him, what he felt and remembered.
"No. I don't think she was angry. She was scared. Really scared," he said.
"You said you saw her?" Dean asked, "What did her clothes look like? Maybe she hasn't been dead long enough to be vengeful."
Adam tried to think back, trying to picture the girl and what she was wearing, but couldn't. He couldn't see her, but he could still feel her memories inside him slowly fading.
"I don't remember her clothes, but in one of her memories her mom or someone was on a computer so it probably wasn't that long ago," Adam replied.
"We're gonna have to go back," Dean said, walking over to the table and grabbing Adam's overturned glass.
"What? No!" Adam exclaimed before he realized he'd spoken.
"Relax kid, you don't have to go," Dean replied, refilling both Adam's and his own drink with more whiskey before handing it back to his brother.
Adam took the glass gratefully and stared into it.
"We need to tell Dad too," Dean continued, "Figure out who this girl was and help her move on before she becomes dangerous."
"No." Adam said forcefully, not looking up from his glass. "I don't wanna tell Dad."
"Why not?" Dean asked confusedly.
Adam grit his teeth and glared down into his whiskey, furiously hoping he wouldn't have to admit why he didn't want his father to know what had happened to him.
"It's ok Adam, we don't have to tell him," Sam assured him.
"Yes we do Sam!" Dean said ardently, "He has to know what happened."
"No." Adam said again forcefully. "I saw how he looked at me after. If he knows a ghost got into me, he's gonna think I'm weak. That I can't hunt."
Adam looked between his brothers urging them to understand. Adam had watched his father's expressions closely after the hunt. All the time that Dad was bandaging his head and checking for broken ribs, Adam kept looking for a sign that he had done well, any acknowledgement that he had passed this first hunting test, but John's face was a mask void of any clear emotion. A silent ride back to the motel had only further solidified Adam's fear that Dad didn't think he'd done well enough on the hunt and wasn't ready for anything else.
"Adam…" Sam started.
"He's not gonna think you're weak." Dean interrupted, ever his father's defender. "Ghosts are unpredictable S. , it will be fine. He and I will go back and take care of it."
"No!" Adam exclaimed. "Dean seriously. Please."
Dean grunted in displeasure, trying to weigh the consequences of lying to his father against upsetting his brother.
"Adam," Sam said softly, drawing both his brother's attention, "We don't have to tell Dad everything, but we gotta tell him something. Dean's right. That ghost has to be taken care of, otherwise she's just gonna become more violent as the years go on. It's the right thing to do."
"We'll tell Dad that you think you saw another ghost while you were canvasing, I'll do some research and figure out who she is and confirm your story. Then Dad and Dean can go back and take care of her," Sam continued. "Dad doesn't have to know about the possession ok?"
Adam chewed his bottom lip hesitantly as Dean huffed above him, clearly not happy with the plan and the possibility of lying, even by omission, to their father.
"Yeah…Ok," Adam said finally. "But I gotta go back there too."
Dean looked down at him in surprise, "You sure kid?"
"Yeah." Adam said firmly.
Despite the lingering feelings of fear and dread that were still sitting in his stomach Adam knew he had to go back. If he was ever going to have any hope of getting his vengeance and killing every ghoul that existed, he was gonna have to man up and face this ghost.
"Yeah," he said again, "Definitely."
Dean couldn't suppress the grin of pride that spread across his face.
"Yeah, alright," Dean said, clapping a heavy hand on Adam's shoulder. "And we won't let her get in you this time."
An involuntary shudder crossed Adam's shoulders and he tightened his grip on his whiskey glass, staring down into the amber liquid.
"You ready to try to get some sleep?" Sam asked.
Adam considered the suggestion for a moment, before deciding that the ghost's feelings were still too present and he wasn't ready to risk another nightmare. "Umm. No," he said finally, avoiding his brother's gaze. "I think I'll just stay up a little while."
"Ok, we'll hang with you," Dean said, walking over to the kitchen counter and grabbing the whiskey bottle by the neck and topping off his mug.
"You don't have to do that," Adam said, half hoping that his brothers would do what they always did and ignore him to do whatever they wanted.
"No man," Sam said, taking a drink of his own still mostly full glass, "We'll hang. Let's see what's on TV."
"Yeah!" Dean said, "I think this motel gets skin-a-max!"
Adam bit back a smile and took a hefty drink, letting the whiskey burn his throat and warm his stomach, pushing back the ghost's memories further and further from his consciousness with each sip.
A/N- Reviews and ideas are always welcome! Thank you for reading! And thanks to my beta reader Luna! :)