Growing Pains

Timeline: July 2000. Twelve-year-old Adam has been with his new family for almost a year now, learning how to hunt, research and generally survive life as a Winchester. At this point, Adam and Dean's relationship is still rocky, although Dean is gradually viewing Adam as a more of a brother and less of a consequence of his father's perceived infidelity.

-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Here you go, kid. Three Dogs. Two regular and one loaded."

"Thanks," Adam replied, reaching up into the food truck to grab the three hotdogs the man held out to him.

Grabbing a handful of napkins and his soda with one hand, he balanced two of the hot dogs against the crook of his elbow trying to keep a tight hold on Dean's fully loaded dog with his remaining hand, praying he didn't drop everything on the short walk back to his brothers and the car.

As Adam approached the gleaming black Impala he heard Dean's annoyed sigh as his brother flipped his phone shut and slumped against the driver's side door.

"Nothing?" Adam asked, walking up to him.

"Nada," Dean said, shaking his head in frustration.

"I got something," Sam called, striding toward them from the opposite direction, a folded piece of paper in his outstretched hand.

"Adam, your shirt…" Sam said, nodding at his younger brother as he approached the car.

"Yeah it's Black Sabbath," Adam said flicking his eyes down at the logo on his black shirt, surprised that Sam didn't know the band.

"No, dude," Sam said, starting to chuckle, "Your shirt is covered in ketchup,"

Adam looked down again and saw that the two hotdogs he'd been cradling in his arm had tilted and were now pressing a mess of wet ketchup and mustard against his favorite t-shirt.

"Aw shoot!" he exclaimed, as his brothers laughed at him while he tried to move the food away from his shirt without dropping anything.

"Here, here," Dean said, shoving his phone in his pocket and reaching out to grab his lunch and Adam's soda while Sam grabbed the other two hot dogs leaving Adam free to mop up the mess on his shirt with his collection of napkins.

"Dammit," he said, dabbing at his shirt, ignoring his brothers' lingering chuckles.

"Thanks, kid, I needed that," Dean laughed, making Adam frown at him, "You said you got something Sam?" he asked his middle brother, gratefully turning the focus away from Adam's embarrassment.

"Yeah," Sam said, putting the hot dogs he was holding on the roof of the Impala, making Dean grimace, "I got an address and I think it might be our guy," he said, unfolding the paper he'd been carrying and handing it out for his brother to examine.

Dean took the crumpled paper and read through the printout and Sam's scrawled handwritten notes, "Yeah, looks right. I'll call Dad."

"Can we go there now?" Adam asked, crumpling his wet napkins and scanning the parking lot for a trashcan to dump them in.

"Oh yeah breaking and entering on a Wednesday afternoon, sure kid," Dean snapped sarcastically.

Adam scowled, "Just asking…" he mumbled, watching as Dean took his phone from his pocket and flipped it open to call Dad.

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile and handed him a hot dog with a shrug. Things were still rocky between the youngest and oldest Winchesters, although they had gotten considerably better in the last few months since Adam started being allowed to go on hunts. Dean was still mostly referring to Adam as "kid" or "squirt" or even "dumbass" when he thought the situation called for it. Adam was still unsure about Dean, trying to decide if it was even worth attempting to like and care about his new brother. It had been a lot easier to see Sam as a brother. Sam was kind and patient. He didn't yell at Adam or make him feel like he was in the way.

"Yes, sir. Will do," Dean said, snapping the phone shut and putting it back in his pocket, "We'll meet back at the motel, Dad wants to see what you found."

"Of course he does," Sam huffed in irritation, "He doesn't think its right?"

"Sam…" Dean said, rolling his eyes and walking away from his brothers, taking a large bite of the hot dog he was still holding, "Let's get the lead out," he garbled around a mouthful, "And don't mess up my baby," he said turning to give a pointed stare at Adam.

"Yeah, yeah," Adam mumbled, taking a sip of his soda, imagining pouring the entire sticky soda out on Dean's beloved leather seats. 'God, Dean's head would probably explode', he thought, grinning as he opened the door and slid into the backseat.

-/-/-/-

"What took you boys so long?" Dad asked, his voice slightly tinged with frustration before they had even walked into the motel room.

"Had to stop so Small Fry could take a potty break," Dean answered in derision, nodding back to his youngest brother walking in behind him.

Adam rolled his eyes at the back of his brother's head as he followed him into the room, unexpectedly stumbling over the doorstep. A sudden tight pull on the collar of his shirt caught him mid-trip and Adam realized that Sam had grabbed him, keeping him from face planting into the tile floor of the motel room.

"Jeez you're a klutz today," Sam said, heaving Adam back up in one smooth movement and grabbing his brother's arm to steady him once he was back on his feet.

"More like every day," Dean mumbled, making Adam scowl.

"Still getting used to the new arms and legs, huh son?" Dad teased gently, looking at his youngest, "You boys were the same way when you were his age," he continued nodding to Dean and Sam, "Knocking stuff over left and right like your arms grew overnight,"

"I remember Sammy tripping over those boats he calls feet," Dean chimed in, smirking at Sam.

"Like you were any better," Sam countered, "You dropped everything you touched,"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Dad cut him off asking about the address Sam had found, effectively ending their teasing and reminiscing.

"Yeah, this matches up to what I got too," Dad said after scanning the notes Sam handed him. He glanced down at his watch, "Have you boys eaten?"

"Yeah…I mean yes sir," Adam replied, quickly correcting his casual mistake.

Dad nodded in appreciation of Adam's adjustment to his answer, "Good. I think we will hang here for a while and then go check out the house around midnight. Hopefully, we can find what we need to nab the bastard,"

All three boys nodded in acceptance of Dad's plan.

"What should we do until then?" Adam asked, looking down at his own watch to see that it was only 7:45.

"Why don't you boys try to get some sleep and I'll wake you when it's time to get going?"

Adam held in a sigh of annoyance and displeasure. An 8 pm bedtime? What was he 6?

"Kinda early for bed Dad…" he tested, sitting down on the motel bed he and Sam had claimed for the week.

"Not when you're getting up at midnight son," Dad countered, "We don't know how long this could take, you need rest so you can be alert and ready,"

"Are you gonna sleep?" Adam asked curiously, wondering if he was pushing the limits of disrespect by asking, then knowing for sure he was when he saw Sam's surprised expression from behind their father.

Dad studied Adam for a moment, enough to let him know that the question was not appreciated, then replied, "Yes I'll probably grab a few hours too,"

Adam nodded quickly and looked away, thankful that he hadn't tripped Dad's disrespect-o-meter and gotten in trouble.

"Fine by me," Dean said flopping down on his stomach on the other empty motel bed, not bothering to turn back the blanket or take off his boots.

Easy for him to say, Adam thought. Dean had strolled back into their motel around 2 in the morning smelling like cigarette smoke and women's perfume.

Adam watched Dean get comfortable, pulling the gun from his lower back and tucking it safely under the pillow before bunching the pillow up under his head, closing his eyes and snuggling down to sleep.

Adam wanted to sigh in frustration. Sleeping the Winchester way really took some getting used to. There were no restful 8 hours nights with these guys. Between training and studying until late, getting up early for runs and PT ( not to mention all the late-night hunts), Adam was lucky to get 5 or 6 hours a night. And he didn't even feel like he could complain since he and Sam got more sleep than Dad and Dean ever did. Dean had gotten all of 3 hours last night between his exploits and Dad's demanded 5 am run and he'd been going all day long. Sam wasn't much better, he'd let Adam go to bed around 11 after they finished their Latin lesson, but Adam had woken up at 1 from a bad dream and saw Sam awake and reading. Adam wondered if they even knew how real people slept.

At this point though it didn't really matter, even if he didn't feel like going to sleep it wasn't like he had a choice. If Dad said sleep, you sleep.

Adam hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave on his boots and gear like Dean. Most of the time Adam unpacked all the crap that Dad insisted he keep with him at all times (his gun, lock pick sets and various blades) when they got back to the motel. There had been a few times in the past year where Dad told him not to get comfortable while they waited for something, but mostly Adam was allowed to chill when they were within the motel walls.

As Adam sat debating on what kind of a wait this was, he watched his father and Sam settle in. Dad, of course, pulled his journal out and his collection of papers, going to sit at the small motel room table to make his notes about the case. Sam had wandered over where his backpack and rucksack were tucked into the corner of the room and dug out his latest paperback, coming to sit next to Adam on the bed, scooting up so that he was leaning comfortably against the headboard.

Shoes still on.

Adam deliberated a moment longer, considering how much more comfortable it would be to sleep without all his gear but acutely aware of the humiliation and aggravation he'd risk if he was the last one out the door tonight's midnight B&E.

Resigning himself, he sighed and moved to lie down next to Sam. Rolling over he tried to get more comfortable on the lumpy motel mattress and glanced up to see Sam gently smiling down at him. Sam settled a little more comfortably as well, moving to put one hand on his little brother's head while the other held his book.

It wasn't much, but the warmth and comfort of Sam's hand resting on his head made sleeping in his boots a little more bearable.

-/-/-

It didn't seem like long before Dad was gently touching Adam's shoulder, letting him know it was time to wake up and get to it.

"Dean," Dad said quietly, still standing above Adam and Adam watched as his brother's eyes flew open at the recognition of his name.

Adam had learned early on that it didn't take much to wake Dean and a person needed to be careful about doing it. Over the years, Dad had ground into him the importance of being alert, so much so that Dean would wake instantly to a slight sound and any waking touch would see him pulling a weapon or throwing a punch.

"Sam," Dad said softly and Adam watched as Dad gently shook Sam's shoulder same as he had done with Adam.

It was little things like this that Adam noticed, things that separated Sam and Adam from Dean. Maybe it was age, maybe it was just being the oldest, but Dad treated Dean differently. He demanded more, had less patience and less tolerance for error then he did with Sam or Adam. Granted they all seemed to be subordinate soldiers in the Winchester Army, but there were little things like this, where it showed (at least to Adam) that Dean was an officer in their little Army. Not something as high as to be equal to Dad, but definitely more important and valuable then Adam or Sam.

"Let's get to it boys," Dad said, walking around the motel beds as they all shook the sleep from their eyes.

Adam sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling a little disoriented and confused and it took him a moment to remember why he was being woken up at midnight.

"Adam, got your lock picks?" Dad asked, grabbing his own bag of gear from atop the motel table.

"Yes sir," Adam replied, patting his pocket to make sure his picks were still there.

Dad nodded in approval and pulled his set of keys from his pocket, turning to walk out the door.

Adam stood up and took a breath, a little excited and a little nervous for their after-dark adventure. As much as it all still freaked him out, he loved being included in anything that had to do with hunting. He'd been practicing picking locks with Sam for forever, practically since he joined them on the road, and Dad said tonight he'd be the one who got them into the suspect's house. The thought made Adam jittery.

How funny was it that he didn't think twice about breaking into some guy's house? How far had he come from the person he was last July that he didn't blink an eye when his father told him to grab his lock picks?

-/-/-

They parked several blocks away, tucking the beautiful Impala into a desolate alley between two streets, and walked quickly and quietly to the house in question.

Adam had studied every detail in this case. He'd read the case files, saw the photos from the crime scenes, scanned the newspapers, everything that Dad and his brothers had done. Adam was determined to prove his worth on this case; to show them that he was ready to hunt every beast they might come up against, not just the 'safe' ghost milk runs that Dad had been taking him on.

From all the research Adam knew they suspected they were hunting a skinwalker in town and a particularly nasty one at that. Dad and the boys had dealt with skinwalkers and various were-creatures before but this one seemed to be rogue. Several things just didn't line up with skinwalker lore and before they could be sure of what they were dealing with (so they could be sure how to kill it) they need to confirm the details, hence the late-night breaking and entering.

Trailing after his brothers, skirting quickly from bushes to buildings to keep in the shadows, Adam patted his pocket again, double and triple-checking that his picks were still in place.

When they got to the house in question, Dad gave the signal and Adam wound his way past his brothers to where Dad was standing next to the tall wooden fence surrounding the backyard.

Another signal from Dad and Adam stepped up into Dad's open and waiting palm, grabbing for the top of the fence as Dad pushed him up and over. Landing with a quiet thud in the grass he hopped up and ran toward the backdoor of the house, knowing it was his job to get the lock open before the others got there. Even with a six-foot privacy fence, four men standing around a backdoor at midnight would look suspicious as hell and with two-story houses on either side Dad had impressed upon Adam the importance of making quick work of the lock.

Of course, knowing that he had to work fast and actually doing it were two totally different things. Adam's hands shook as he pushed the tiny wrench into the lock, turning it gently to create the tension he needed to get his pick in and fiddle with the tumbler pins.

"Any day now…" Dean whispered harshly, suddenly above Adam and throwing off his focus and confidence.

"Shut up," Adam hissed back, trying to ignore the building pressure he felt knowing that Dean was watching him.

Pushing in the pick he wiggled and fought with the pins in the door lock, knowing exactly what he had to do to make it open and getting more frustrated by the second that the damn thing wouldn't just click and open.

"You're past the sheer line," Sam whispered, appearing beside him eyes intently focused on the lock Adam was working on, "pull back and go again,"

Adam's heart was pounding and his hands were still shaking. Dad would be behind him any second and this door had to be open.

Pulling the pick back out a tiny bit and adjusting his grip Adam tried again, putting it back in and turning each pin, feeling and listening for the click he desperately wanted to hear.

"Right…there," he whispered to himself, feeling the tumbler slip and rotating the plug within it, just as he felt Dad's heavy boot step land beside him.

Adam turned the doorknob and Dad pushed open the door, striding into the room, his hand loosely on the weapon at his side. Dean was next, flashlight and gun held together in the perfect military position Dad had taught them, his light aimed at the ground as he walked in. Sam stayed close to Adam, waiting with his own weapon at the ready as Adam pulled the pick and wrench out of the lock and quietly closed the door behind them.

Sam and Adam were supposed to stick together on this one and while Adam hated that Dad seemed to think he needed a babysitter when they were out hunting, he was glad it was Sam this time and not Dean.

Adam followed Sam into the house, trying to be quiet, looking around and watching as Dad and his brothers searched for clues. Adam didn't really know exactly what they were looking for. He knew that skinwalkers were close to werewolves, but were they looking for dog fur or something? Dad hadn't been exactly clear. Adam had known better to ask though. He was lucky to even be going on this recon with them. He knew he wasn't really here to help them find anything, he was here to learn and observe and not get in the way. Dean had made that abundantly clear on the way over and Dad hadn't corrected him.

As Adam followed Sam into the house's living room he watched his family work. He tried to remember all the tips and tricks that the Winchesters had taught him. Funny, he still thought of them as "the Winchesters" as if he hadn't been using his father's last name almost since the moment he'd been tossed in the back of the Impala and thrown into the hunting world. He absently wondered if he would always see himself as 'Adam Milligan', not 'Adam Winchester' , the role he was trying so hard to fit into.

Suddenly Adam's shoe caught on the corner of the living room rug, tipping him dangerously off balance. He swung an arm out to catch himself, knocking a large lamp off a side table. Rushing to grab the lamp before it could crash to the floor his arm cracked against decorative ceramic owl sending it flying through the air. Adam instinctively dropped the lamp and reached out to grab the fragile owl, feeling it just caress his fingertips as it crashed through a glass coffee table in the middle of the living room, shattering it and sending shards flying.

As if the crash hadn't been loud enough the stunned silence that followed it was deafening, terrifying Adam and stealing the air from his lungs.

"Adam!" Dad barked, his disbelief and frustration unmistakable.

"I…uh…" Adam started, in shock.

What the hell had he just done?

"Dad…." Dean warned, peering out the window toward the neighbor's house, "I don't think we're the only ones who heard that,"

As the air began to filter back into his lungs Adam began to panic. He'd made a huge mess. A loud, huge mess. The neighbors were gonna call the cops if they hadn't already. They were all gonna be arrested and he'd be taken away from the only family he had left.

'and ow…shit…" he thought distractedly, looking down at his hands to see a large splinter of glass sticking out from the palm of his hand, red blood oozing around it.

"Adam are you ok?" Dad asked glancing at him briefly as he scanned the room, wheels already turning in his mind.

"Yeah…" Adam mumbled dumbly, ripping the shard of glass from his hand and pulling up his shirt to hide the blood filling his palm.

Dad looked around wildly, "There's no chance of hiding this,"

"Dad!" Sam hissed, his eyes going wide as they all recognized the sound of police sirens in the distance.

"Fuck." Dad growled, "Dean get your brothers out of here!"

Adam opened his mouth to protest leaving Dad alone, but his words were cut off when Dean grabbed him around the waist and half shoved, half carried him out the backdoor after Sam.

"Dad! What about Dad?" Adam cried, trying to pull away from his brother's grip.

"Cram it! He'll be fine!" Dean said, dragging Adam through the yard, glancing behind him to make sure Sam was following.

They rushed to the tall wooden fence and Adam watched as Sam ran towards it, grabbing the top with one hand, easily throwing his body up and over in one graceful and coordinated movement.

"Go kid," Dean whisper-yelled at Adam, putting a palm out for his brother to step into.

Adam's hand was throbbing in pain, but he tried to focus, tried to forget about the blood that was soaking his shirt and making him feel sick and weak. Taking a running leap just as Sam had done, he grabbed for the fence with his good hand, feeling Dean push him up. He tried to get his legs up and over like he'd done before but he couldn't. He wasn't tall enough to be able to throw his legs over like Sam did.

He needed to use his injured hand to push himself up and without it, he couldn't get his weight up enough to pull his legs over.

"What the hell?" Dean snarled as Adam fell back down heavily into the grass.

"Dean…" Adam said weakly as he stood up and tried not to cry. Gently he pulled his shirt back from his hand, humiliated as he showed Dean a glimpse of the large open wound on his hand, dripping blood into the grass.

"Oh shit," Dean said softly, shaking his head and coming to take a closer look at Adam's hand.

"Alright, Alright," he said soothingly, tucking Adam's shirt back around the injury, "You just get your good hand up there to steady yourself and I'll push you over ok? Sammy…" he hissed through the fence, "Get ready to catch,"

"What?" came a confused whisper from the other side.

Dean looked Adam cautiously as he squatted down ready to lift his brother, "Ok ready?" he asked, waiting for Adam's signal.

Adam took a breath and nodded, stepping into Dean's hand and at the same time feeling his brother grab both his legs and push him up and over in a movement so fast and smooth Adam didn't even have time to get his good hand on the fence for support. With more force than expected, Adam was thrown over colliding with a waiting Sam who barely withstood being knocked down by the force for an almost 13-year-old falling on him.

"You ok?" Sam asked once he'd helped Adam stand up on his own feet.

"Yeah, yeah," Adam replied, fighting a feeling of lightheadedness as Dean landed heavily on the dirt beside him.

"Come on," Dean ordered, taking off and not looking back at his brothers.

Adam rushed after Dean, feeling Sam sticking close beside him as the sounds of sirens increased behind them. The cops were at the house. Shit, he hoped Dad was ok.

They raced back to the hidden Impala jumping into its awaiting, reassuring leather seats.

"Hey…don't bleed on the leather…" Dean teased flatly into the rearview as he threw the car into drive and peeled off toward the motel.

"Adam, are you hurt?" Sam asked in concerned surprise, turning around in the front seat to look back at his brother.

Adam nodded, feeling the throbbing in his hand build again as he was reminded of the pain. He chanced a glance down, curious to see if it really was as bad as it felt. As he peeled back his wet black t-shirt and saw his hand covered in red and his mind lost focus.

Red.

Red.

Wet.

Warm.

His vision blurred. The roar of the Impala's engine became quiet and Adam felt his mind become fuzzy.

"Hey kid, come on," a voice said from very far away.

"Huh?" Adam said, blinking slowly and turning his head toward the voice that was speaking to him.

"Are you ok Adam?" another voice asked, this one from the other side, "How much blood did he lose Dean?"

Adam blinked hard and shook his head, fighting to come back.

"I'm fine," he growled, determined to toughen up, to be more Winchester then he really felt.

-/-/-/

"We should take him to the doctor Dean,"

"You got a clinic that's open and won't send up flares when a 12-year-old comes in bleeding like this at 3 am?" Dean snarled in reply, looking down at Sam while his brother examined Adam's hand under the desk light in the motel room.

Sam frowned and sighed deeply.

"Maybe we could just put a Band-Aid on it?" Adam asked hopefully, looking up at Dean's frown and then across to Sam's matching grimace.

"You need stitches," Dean replied shortly.

"We could just bandage it till morning Dean, " Sam bargained, glancing up at his brother, "or Dad will be back soon…we could ask him,"

"You know what Dad's gonna say, Sam," Dean replied tersely.

"What's Dad gonna say?" Adam asked, looking between his brothers in confusion.

Sam bit his lip and Dean didn't answer, making a bud of panic appear in Adam's chest.

"What's Dad gonna say, Dean?" Adam asked again, fear making his voice crack embarrassingly.

"He's gonna say that you aren't going to the doctor," Dean rushed out.

"But…"

"You need stitches. Sam'll do it," Dean said decisively.

Adam looked across the small nightstand he was sitting at with Sam, as his brother held his injured hand under the light. He wasn't sure how it happened but Sam was the go-to nurse for the Winchesters. Adam knew Dean could probably sew up any nasty cut as well as Sam could, yet Sam was the one who was always called on.

"Is it gonna hurt?" Adam asked warily.

"Yeah. It'll hurt," Sam said frankly, not looking Adam in the eye as he studied the wound.

"Look, kid, yeah it's gonna hurt, but it won't hurt forever ok?" Dean said, squatting down so that he was eye level with his brothers, "Just get through the worst of the pain and then it gets better,"

Adam had witnessed Sam give their father a whole row of stitches across his chest a few months ago and although Dad didn't cry, he grunted and sipped on enough whiskey to let Adam know what was happening was pretty painful.

"Umm...you guys have done it before?" Adam questioned.

"More than I'd want yeah, " Dean replied honestly, pulling up his shirt sleeve to show a crisscross of scars. "But Sammy is good at it, really careful,"

"You're good at it too Dean," Sam replied, tilting his head so that Adam could see the silver line of a scar on the bottom of his chin.

"Umm...ok I guess," Adam replied with a sigh.

"Ok." Dean said standing up, "Let's get you some pain pills first. See if we can take the edge off,"

"Is it gonna be bad Sam?" Adam whispered across to his older brother, who still had a tight grip on his hand, studying the wound with intensity.

"No," Sam replied flatly, still not looking Adam in the eye.

The answer was so flat, so lacking in all the reassurances that Adam would normally have expected from Sam, that Adam knew his brother was lying. It was gonna be bad. And it was gonna hurt.

Adam felt his lip tremble uncontrollably and tears well up in his eyes.

Despite how much he wanted to be all Winchester tough, he was scared. He was scared of being hurt again. He'd already been hurt so much. It wasn't fair.

And what was worse was that this time it was his own stupid fault. It wasn't some evil ghoul bastard who hurt him; it was his own stupid clumsiness. He couldn't blame his pain on anyone but himself.

"Hey, hey…" a soft voice said from above him, "Its ok kid, really,"

Dean squatted back down beside his brother, taking up almost all the narrow space between the two motel beds. He studied his youngest brother, his head tilted downward, shoulders shaking, trying to hide the fat tears running down his cheeks.

"Hey…" he whispered again, not knowing what to do.

Dean threw a sidelong glance at Sam for help, but Sam was ignoring them both, his mind already numbed and focusing on the unpleasant task at hand.

Dean both hated and loved that Sam was able to do that: just turn himself off like that. It was amazing and a little scary to watch sometimes. Sam would be faced up against something awful and he'd shift, almost imperceptibly, and all his emotions would be gone. He'd be distant and business-like. He'd get the job done whatever it was and then he'd tune back in and become his same ol' Sam self again.

Dean sighed, Sam would be no help on this one.

"Sammy…" he said quietly pulling Sam's attention away for a moment, "Go get what you need ok?"

Sam nodded curtly, "Hold his hand steady Dean. Don't let the wound get contaminated," he ordered.

'Ok Sergeant', Dean thought sarcastically but nodded in agreement, gently taking Sam's place holding Adam's outstretched, injured hand on the nightstand under the light.

The open wound on Adam's hand had stopped bleeding, at least enough that Dean could see how deep it was. He grimaced, the kid definitely needed stitches, and he'd need more than a few to keep this one closed. Dean glanced up at his brother and his heart instantly clenched at the sight. His first instinct when he saw Adam's injury back at the house was to be pissed off. That seemed to be his gut reaction to anything having to do with the kid. But sitting here now watching Adam's thin shoulders shake as he silently cried, Dean had nothing but sympathy for his brother.

"Adam look..." he said quietly watching as Adam looked up to meet his eyes, "Yeah it's gonna hurt but kid you're tough…really tough…"

Dean considered Adam for a moment. The kid really was a tough little jerk. Just given everything that Dad had thrown at him this past year, Adam had done really well. When they first started training Adam couldn't even run half a mile, now he was easily able to keep up with his brothers on their daily five-mile runs. The kid was serious about learning everything they offered him about hunting. He took pages on pages of notes about the things Sam told him and he tried over and over again at all the weapons and fighting tricks Dean taught him. Yeah, he was still pretty terrible at everything, but damn the kid was trying.

Not to mention, Dean didn't even know what kind of torment Adam had suffered at the hands of those ghouls before Dad found him.

So yeah he was a tough little shit. A few stitches should be no problem.

But looking into those little watery eyes Dean didn't see the tough little jerk who made faces at him behind his back when he thought his brothers weren't looking. He saw a scared little kid.

"You said my name…" Adam said, his voice barely above a whisper and thick with tears.

"What?" Dean replied in annoyed confusion.

Adam looked away from him, focusing on the motel carpet, "You never say my name…you call me kid… or dumbass,"

"I say your name…." Dean shot back defensively, the flush of embarrassment rising in his face.

Dean wanted to deny it, to tell Adam how wrong he was, but damn the kid was probably right. When Dean thought about his brother, he was the kid. Sam was Sammy, always endearingly Sammy, but Adam? 'Kid' was really the best Dean could do.

He didn't want to admit it to himself and he'd never admit it out loud, but for a long time after Adam joined them on the road, Dean didn't even want to look at him. Any lengthy gaze would make Dean's blood boil over for reasons he couldn't explain. Sammy said it was normal, that he was mad too. Dad should have never kept Adam a secret. But for Dean, there was more, something he couldn't pinpoint it and he really didn't want to. But for a long time just being around Adam made him angry and irritable.

Most of the feelings had worn off over time. He'd gotten used to having a new brother and the increased responsibility of having another kid around. Adam and Sam had developed a close relationship, so Dean didn't feel like he needed to bother with Adam that much. Sam seemed to be enjoying the big brother role enough for both of them.

Dean licked his lips in embarrassed hesitation as he studied his youngest brother's face, trying to get Adam to look him in the eye again.

Damn Adam was young.

It really slipped Dean's mind most of the time how young Adam was. He wasn't even 13 years old yet for Christ sakes. He still looked every bit of the baby-faced pre-teen he was.

Dean remembered Sam at this age before the hormones hit full force and stretched Sam out into the sullen, gigantic, whiny baby he was now. He remembered how young Sam still got scared and climbed in bed with him, asking Dean to rub his back until he fell asleep. Adam had never once asked for any kind of comfort from Dean and if he asked for it from Sam, Dean never knew. It wouldn't be long before Adam was a foul-mouthed teenager, full of the piss and vinegar that came with being a Winchester.

"Adam…" Dean whispered, drawing his brother's eyes back to his own.

"You're a tough little shit you know that right?" he said, cracking a smile hoping to get one from his brother in return, "I mean you've put up with my bullshit all year…"

At that, a small, weak half-smile crept on to his brother's face.

Dean raised his free hand and gently smoothed Adam's hair, letting his hand trail down his brother's face wiping away the tear tracks.

"Look, I'm right here. Sam's right here. We both know how much this hurts, but we are gonna take care of you ok? It won't be that bad and I know you're tough enough to deal with it."

Adam's lip trembled a little but he bit down on it hard and nodded.

"Ok," Sam said coming from behind them with his supplies, setting them down on a clean sheet on the motel bed before he sat down to examine Adam's hand again.

Grabbing a bottle of pills and some small bottle of water he shook out two pills and gave them to Adam, who took them with his good hand and tossed them into his mouth, taking a quick swallow of the water Sam offered to wash them down.

"Alright," Sam said taking back the water and adjusting the light over Adam's hand, "Are you ready? Cause once I start I'm not gonna stop."

Adam blanched at his brother's words but nodded shakily.

"Dean, you better hold him."

"I'm not gonna move Sam! You don't have to hold me down!" Adam shrieked, unable to hide the fear in his voice. He hated being held down or tied up. Hated it.

"It's not that Adam," Dean explained gently, "We know you can be still, but you're gonna flinch. It's ok. Just the cut has to be still for Sam to work ok? I'm not gonna hold you down, just hold your hand open like I'm doing now."

Dean's words were so soft and gentle they shocked Adam into stillness. He must really be messed up if Dean was being this nice to him.

Adam watched as Sam prepared the needle, thread and the tweezers he had grabbed from their medical kit.

"Ok," Sam said firmly, holding his tools at the ready over Adam's injury, "Here we go."

The first stab was shocking in its pain, making Adam gasp and choke. Whatever adrenaline he had in his body from the accident had long since left, taking with it any natural painkilling effects Adam needed.

"Alright, alright," Dean was chanting, both hands gently pressing Adam's palm open and into the table.

Adam could feel the needle and thread tugging through his skin and the sensation made him sick, causing a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

True to his words Sam didn't stop once he started, despite Adam's cries of pain and his tears, not even when his brother started to shake involuntarily. Dean's chanted reassurances continued throughout, although by the end Adam couldn't hear them through his daze of pain. Rationally Adam knew the whole process hadn't taken that long, but when he finally stopped feeling the torturous needle sticking and pulling his flesh Adam felt as if a week had passed.

"Ok," Sam said, gently pressing down on the taped edges of the gauze he'd put over Adam's hand, "Done."

Finally, his brothers both let go of his hand and Adam instantly pulled it to his chest, feeling both embarrassed and lightheaded.

"Hey, lay down alright?" Dean said, standing up next to him, "You look like you're gonna pass out,"

Adam nodded weakly and obeyed, laying back onto the motel bed, gratefully feeling his heart rate beginning to slowing down.

The room was quiet now while his brothers cleaned up and discarded all the bloody rags and mess that Adam had created. Adam let himself doze on the bed, trying to calm down and collect himself after the awfulness of the night.

Soon the mattress dipped beside him and Adam opened his eyes to see Sam leaning over him.

"Hey. You ok?" he asked gently, his normal brotherly concern once again written on his face.

Adam sighed in appreciation of Sam's return to normal and nodded, "Yeah, that sucked though."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah man I know."

"You did good kid…" Dean said standing in front of them, between the two beds.

Adam sat up slowly, Sam helping to prop him up and even though he didn't need the help Adam was grateful for the gentle touch.

"Here Adam," Dean said, holding out a glass of what was probably whiskey, raising his eyebrows conspicuously, letting his brother know just how deliberately he was using Adam's name.

"Thanks, Dean," Adam replied, reaching out with his good hand to take the glass.

"So Sam," he asked, taking a small sip of the fiery liquid, "You gonna teach me to do that? So I can return the favor?"

Sam smiled, "Oh yeah it's on the list."

"Relax kid…" Dean said, giving Adam a smile, "I'm sure you'll get plenty of chances."

-/-/-/-/-

Author's note- Hope you liked this little story! It's been rolling around in my head for a while and I was finally able to find the time to work on it!