Learning the Ropes –Part 3
After the door closed completely, Dad walked over slowly sitting down next to him on the bed.
"No more distractions, son. We are gonna get this done," he said calm once more, placing a gentle hand on Adam's knee.
"Now, can you get out of those?" he asked, nodding down at Adam's still bound wrists.
Adam tested the ropes, pulling just a little to see if there was any slack.
"No," he whispered, not looking at his father. Sweat was still rolling down his back, making it tickle uncomfortably and his stomach was rolling with panic so fiercely he thought he might throw up.
"Do you know why?" Dad asked, his voice quiet.
Adam shook his head. 'Cause I'm bad at this. He wanted to say. 'Cause I can't do it and I'll never be able to.
"Let's try again," Dad said, leaning over and picking up Adam's wrists of his lap. Dad felt around for the knot he had made earlier and easily untied it, unwinding the rope from Adam's sore arms.
Once it was off Adam rubbed his wrists, noticing they were already red from the prickly rope.
"Dad. I really, really don't want to do this," Adam begged, "Please don't make me do this anymore."
"Adam…" Dad said in a low warning tone.
"Dad, please."
"Son, don't ask me again," Dad said, taking Adam's wrists in his hands again, not looking him in the eye. "Now what should you do when I start to tie the ropes?"
Adam bit his lip to keep it from quivering, ignoring his father's question.
"Adam!" Dad said, insistently "Focus. What should you do?"
"Umm… pull I guess," Adam mumbled as he watched his father carefully wind the ropes around once again.
"Yes, put tension on the rope," Dad said.
Adam looked up at his father hoping to catch his eye, wishing that Dad could see just how much he didn't want to do this training.
"Dad? Please, can I do this some other time? Please?" he pleaded again.
Dad didn't look up from knotting the ropes tightly against Adam's arms. "Adam. What did I say?" he asked, tugging on the ropes.
"Don't ask," Adam replied in a quiet murmur, his focus returning to the ropes on his wrists and the tightness in his chest.
"And what did you do?" came a growled reply.
"Asked."
"Look at me," Dad demanded. Adam slowly drew his eyes away from the ropes and looked up to see his father staring down at him harshly. "This is your last chance boy. I'm being patient with you but if you keep trying to beg off this training or get your brothers to try to get you out of it I'm getting my belt and we'll do this the hard way. You understand?"
The tight feeling in Adam's chest was replaced by cold fear as he shuddered with the memory of the last time he was treated to a taste of his father's belt and Adam nodded vigorously, quickly adding a "Yes sir" for good measure.
"Ok." Dad said finishing the knot, "Now. Get out of the ropes."
Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and fought to get a deep breath. He experimented with the ropes, gently twisting to see if he had been able to make any slack. His pulse was racing as he felt the coarseness of the rope grind into his skin. He couldn't pass out. He knew he had to get calm, but it was impossible when he could feel his father's eyes boring into him.
"I…I can't do it with you watching me," Adam said breathlessly, still fighting his body's desire to panic.
Gratefully his father nodded. "Understandable." He said, standing up and walking over to pick up his discarded duffle off the floor where Sam had returned it.
Seeing Dad pick up his bag reminded Adam of the blades that Sam had hidden for him and he instantly moved to touch his belt buckle feeling the cool, confident security of the razor blade hidden there. Running his fingers along the taped edge Adam found he was able to take a deep breath, the knowledge that possibility of his freedom was so close at hand calming him. Adam quickly moved his hands away as his father turned back around, pulling his well-worn hunter's journal and a handle of whiskey from the bag.
"I'll be over here," he said walking to the small kitchenette table, "Take your time."
Adam watched solemnly as his father grabbed an empty glass from the counter behind him and sat down heavily at the table, making the old metal chair squeak. He didn't look at Adam as he tossed down his journal and twisted open the lid of the glass container, pouring himself a hearty three fingers worth.
Great. Adam thought as he bit back a sigh watching the scene. The last thing he needed was Dad getting drunk. The man barely had any patience, to begin with, and under the influence, he had none at all. Adam knew that the second that glass touched his father's lips the clock would start ticking. He had to get out of these stupid ropes before his father crossed the line from calm, sleepy drunk to volatile rage monster. Adam felt his fear fade as his frustration grew watching his father take a healthy gulp of the 'Hunters Helper'.
Testing the ropes again Adam made the split-second decision to use the blade Sam had given him. He turned away from his father, angling as far as he dared without drawing attention to himself. With any luck, Dad would just think he was seeking out privacy to work on freeing himself. Sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, Adam slowly felt downward behind his belt feeling for the blade, hoping he didn't cut himself. Cautiously he used his fingertips to pull out the razor and then carefully turned it and began sawing at the closest line of rope around his wrists.
It actually took a surprising amount of time to cut through the coarse rope with the tiny blade, but Adam was determined. The thick veil of fear that had shrouded him since first starting this training had lifted and Adam was surprised to find that a detached feeling of calm had settled within him. He carefully kept his face neutral as he worked the rope, slowly sawing away distinctly aware of his father's movements in his peripheral vision.
Soon the rope frayed and Adam watched with relief as it fell away and he was able to easily pull his hands free. He sat motionless for a moment, staring at the coil of rope in his hand, now neatly separated into two pieces. Now what? He thought.
He was still staring down at the rope in his hand when heard the motel room chair squeak loudly as Dad stood up.
"See?" he said beginning to walk over to Adam, "What…" he questioned softly, eyeing the two pieces of rope in his son's hands.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he yelled now, stomping over and roughly grabbing a handful of the sliced rope from Adam's hands.
Adam looked up at his father towering over him. The fear that had so quickly dissipated with the cutting of the ropes rose again within him. He swallowed reflexively, shrinking a little despite himself.
"You cut it?!" Dad roared, shaking a fist full of rope in Adam's face.
Adam leaned away but instead of feeling the fear continuing to building within him, he was surprised to find that an ember of white-hot rage had replaced it. He stared up at his father fiercely wishing he could punch the man.
"Where's the blade?" Dad demanded, "Where?"
Adam glared at him and refused to answer. The razor blade had fallen on the ground when Dad grabbed the rope and Adam had simply moved his foot on top of it, hiding it completely. Watching his father's face redden as he stayed quiet, Adam knew he was playing with fire but he didn't care.
"Dammit!" Dad bellowed again, throwing the sliced ropes on the floor and looking like he wanted to strangle Adam. "What did you use? I know you don't have your switchblade."
Adam scowled at his father and then looked away, refusing again to answer.
"Cut the goddamn ropes," Dad mumbled to himself lowly, turning away and clenching and unclenching his fists in that way he always did when he was trying to get a hold on his temper.
Fury boiled in Adam's chest. How dare he keep doing this? Acting like something was wrong with Adam because he didn't want to get tied up. Any other person in any other family wouldn't be such a jerk about his. Wouldn't make Adam suffer even more after what he went through with... What was wrong with his father that he insisted this stupid ropes shit had to be learned now? What's wrong with waiting a few years?
Suddenly Adam couldn't hold it in any longer and shot up from the motel room bed, glaring accusingly at his father.
"You said to get out of the ropes!" he yelled. "You didn't say how!"
Dad spun around rapidly, "Don't even try to pull that shit!" he yelled, "You know goddamn well what you're supposed to be doing."
Adam sneered at his father then glanced at the motel room door behind him, debating if he could get past the wall of fury that was John Winchester to make a break for it.
"Don't even think about it," Dad ground out, watching Adam's every move. "I'm gonna ask you one more time: where'd you get the blade?"
Adam ground his teeth and bit his lip in defiance; there was no way he was giving up Sam. Instead of answering he stared silently at the carpet. His father made one slow heavy step in Adam's direction, a move that would have normally had Adam cowering, but Adam didn't flinch. He watched his father's old boots, waiting for a hand to reach out and grab him to shake him hard or slap him.
When nothing immediately happened, Adam lifted a tentative eye, rage still burning in his chest. He looked up to see his father glaring down at him, his face hard and furious.
"Fine. We'll talk to your brothers when they get back."
Adam's stomach dropped a little at his words. A talk with Dad only ever meant one thing. Adam continued to bite hard on his bottom lip refusing to snitch on Sam, even if it meant all three brothers would take a beating for it. He was pretty sure Dean would understand, even if he had nothing to do with the whole situation.
Suddenly Dad reached out and Adam did flinch, despite his earlier boldness. He was roughly pushed back down onto the motel bed and Dad stormed away, grabbing another coil of rope off the opposite bed.
Seeing his father walk toward him with more rope drained all the fight out of Adam. There really was no getting out of this. No matter if he cut the ropes, or ran away or fought his dad, there was no getting away from it. Dad was an unstoppable force and Adam was caught in his path.
Dad paused in front of him momentarily; seemingly debating about something then changed his mind and reached down and roughly grabbed Adam's arms yanking them up painfully and beginning to tie them. Adam let himself be manhandled and watched with a detached feeling as he was bound yet again. The ropes were definitely tighter this time than they had been before. Adam knew he should strain against them, try to make some slack so he could work his way free, but he didn't. He didn't struggle, didn't fight. All the fear and rage that had been coursing through him all afternoon had faded and left him exhausted and empty. He simply sat, indifferently watching his father finish the knot.
"Now." Dad said, releasing Adam's bound wrists, "Get out of the ropes."
Adam didn't move. He felt hollow. He had nothing left to fight with.
"Adam," Dad warned
Still, Adam didn't move. Choosing instead to embracing the nothingness that was settling over him. He looked up from the ropes slowly, avoiding his father's gaze and staring impassively toward the motel window. This was never going to stop. Why fight it. Why fight to get free?
"Adam. Get out of the goddamn ropes," Dad growled.
Adam ignored him, retreating deep within himself. His eyes were open, his body had not moved, but he was no longer in the dingy motel room, bound and tied by a father who insisted he wanted to help. A man who swore he had Adam's best interests at heart. No, Adam was gone. He was back at the cabin by the lake that he and his mom had visited with her best friend from nursing school that amazing week in the summer before she died. He was sitting on the pier with her watching the sunset reflected in the water, the cool evening summer breeze blowing her hair. They were talking about her best friend's daughter, Mom teasing Adam about his crush. He loved the way she smiled at him, all at once proud, loving, and attentive, everything he had ever needed in the world. She loved the sound of water and swore one day they'd make it to the beach so they could sit together and listen to the waves crash on the shore all day.
Suddenly a bright burst of pain to the side of his face viciously rocked his head and brought him instantaneously back to the grimy room. He gasped in surprise at the unexpectedness of the hit, tasting blood at the corner of his bottom lip. He steadied himself a moment, before risking a hesitant glance up at his father who he found to be glowering down at him.
"Get your head in the game boy." He snarled, "We aren't done here."
Adam stared up at him, shock still flowing through him, his jaw throbbing. He looked away submissively, gingerly probing the cut on his lip with his tongue and wincing at the jolt of pain it sent through him. He felt his father grab his wrists once more and hid his face as his hands were untied.
"Now," Dad said, "You're gonna do this right this time."
His tone left no room for discussion and Adam knew they were well past that point anyhow. Dad's hand's never released Adam's as the ropes came off.
"Focus," Dad said, starting the process of tying Adam's wrists over again.
Taking a deep breath, Adam grit his teeth against the panic in his chest. He'd known from the beginning that there was no avoiding this training, but he was now starting to see just how far his father was willing to go to teach the lesson. Swallowing his nerves, Adam strained against the ropes, flexing his arms muscles and pulling as much as he could trying to put tension on the rope, hoping to make the slack he was told he'd need.
"There," Dad said finishing the knot and moving away. "Get to work."
He turned his back on Adam, walking back over to the kitchenette table and pouring another hearty drink into the empty glass.
Adam sighed sadly but obeyed his father, starting to work on the ropes, twisting his wrists and after awhile finding that he was able to create a bit of slack.
Three hours later Adam's wrists were bright red and rubbed raw, but he had been able to free himself twice. He'd lost all hope that his father would give up on the training, however, once he'd been told that until he was able to get free in less than 5 minutes they would continue.
Hearing the roar of Dean's Impala pulling up in front of the motel room, Adam briefly looked up, but finding a hard stare from his father, quickly returned his focus to the ropes.
Adam watched from under his eyelashes as moments later Dean and Sam walked into the room, Dean carrying a bag of fast food takeout.
"Brought dinner," he said lightly, "How's it going in here?"
Dean placed the bag on the table where their father still sat, cautiously eyeing the handle of whiskey next to him that was now more than a third of the way empty.
"Making progress," Dad said quietly, appraising his eldest sons.
Dean nodded casually and took off his coat, placing it on the back of the chair opposite his father. Sam hesitated entering the room, hovering momentarily in the doorway, but soon he too shook off his coat and then walked over toward Adam, attempting to nonchalantly assess his younger brother without drawing their father's attention. Catching sight of Adam's busted and swollen lip he spun around to catch Dean's eye.
Adam was still covertly watching his brothers, aware that they were exchanging concerned looks on his behalf. Dad had been drinking since they left and whatever patience he might have had to control the tension that was building in the room had left hours ago. Adam could feel Sam's hackles rise, but before his brother could spit out the accusatory sentiments he planned, their father stood up slowly from the table.
"Front and center boys," he said lowly, his voice slow and unhurried.
Adam watched as Dean straightened at the order, tightening his jaw, preparing himself for wherever this was headed, which they all knew wasn't good. Adam stood and felt Sam stiffen next to him as they both walked to stand near Dean in front of their father.
Adam chewed the inside of his cheek and twisted his hands within his ropes as he watched his father stare them down. Dad's eyes were red, but not unfocused. He stood more steadily than a man who'd drunk that much whiskey should have been able to. Anger and frustration were coming off him in waves and it was all Adam could do to keep quiet and resist the urge to plead for himself and his brothers.
Dad slowly walked over to the motel bed that Adam had been sitting on, reaching down and picking up the discarded rope that Adam had cut himself free from earlier.
"I wanna know," he started, grabbing the rope and walking back to the boys, holding it out for each to see, "who decided to give Adam a blade?"
Adam could feel himself trembling with fear in the silence of the room, his father slowly pacing before him. He didn't dare risk looking at either of his brothers; terrified he might give them away somehow and cause their father to strike.
"I did," Dean said immediately, his voice steady and without hesitation.
Of course, Dean would take the blame. Somehow Adam always knew he would.
"No," Sam admitted, taking a small step forward. "I did."
Dad stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Dean and Sam, considering them both.
"I know you did Sam." He said finally, after a long pause.
Adam glanced over at Sam, watching him swallow reflexively, trying to stand up straight and not be intimidated by their father.
"Are you running this training exercise, Sam?" Dad asked dangerously, leaning into crowd his middle son.
"No sir," Sam answered his voice strong but cautious.
"Then why did you give him a blade?"
Sam's eyes darted over toward Adam on instinct and Adam looked back fearfully. He should have never cut the ropes. He should have never gotten Sam in trouble like this.
"Don't look at him. Look at me." Dad snapped, narrowing his eyes at Sam furiously, "What made you think you could undermine my training like that?"
Adam trembled in fear for his brother. He wished he could look around Sam to see Dean, to get an idea of what he should do. Instead held still, unconsciously twisting the ropes around his wrists, painfully irritating the raw skin there.
Sam was obstinately silent for a moment, his face held in a defiant scowl. "You really want me to answer that?" he challenged.
Instantaneously Dad's hands were fisted in Sam's t-shirt, grabbing him violently with a forceful shake. On instinct, Sam closed his eyes at the movement preparing for the moment of impact he expected.
"Dad!" Dean yelled, grabbing roughly at his father's arms, attempting to free his younger brother from their father's tight hold.
Dad let go with a shove, pushing both Sam and Dean back with such force that both brothers stumbled and had to grab onto each other to stay upright.
"You like this Sam?" Dad yelled, "Huh? You like getting your brothers in trouble like this?"
Sam stared back insolently for a moment, still clutching onto to Dean for support. He glanced quickly between his brothers and Adam watched as shame and guilt began to slowly rise in his cheeks, erasing the brazen rebelliousness that had been there only a moment before.
"Understand me, boys." Dad growled, looking at each boy intentionally, "This is happening. Adam is gonna learn just like you did."
Adam and his brothers stood silently in front of their father, waiting expectantly for his next command, each unsure of what would be demanded of them. Unsteady with fear Adam continued to play with the ropes that bound him, noticing vaguely that he had managed to get one knuckle of his thumb joint out and he was very close to freeing himself completely.
"You boys know that I take this training seriously." Dad started, beginning to pace again in front of his sons.
Adam watched his father's steps with a careful eye, noting the slight slur of his words that had started.
"I absolutely will not tolerate insubordination," he said, pausing in front of Sam and staring down at him.
Sam had let go of Dean and was standing up straight again, facing their father head-on, waves of animosity and rebelliousness rolling off him.
"In case you haven't noticed," he ground out shakily from behind gritted teeth, "We're not your subordinates. We're your sons."
Dad's reaction was instantaneous and Adam cringed and cowered as he watched
father's fist connect with Sam's jaw.
"Sam!" Dean scolded in disbelief as Sam stumbled with the blow, but didn't fall, quickly bringing a hand up to his face to soothe the ache of the punch.
"On your knees," Dad said evenly, staring at the boys "All of you."
Adam could feel his body beginning to shake again as he watched Dean and then Sam slowly kneel before their father. As he moved to follow his brothers he was stopped in mid-motion as his father grabbed the front of his pants, pulling his belt away from his jeans.
Dad was silent as he stripped Adam of his belt, scowling as the saw the second blade that Sam had hidden in the back.
"That's what I thought," he confirmed angrily, putting a rough hand on Adam's shoulder and pushing him down to kneel next to Sam.
Dad took the belt in his hands, peeling off the unused razor blade and throwing it to the ground. Adam watched with dread building in his belly as his father twisted the belt around, folding it and placing the buckle inside his fist. Sweat tickled at the back of Adam's neck as he realized that not only was he was still tied up, he was about to take a beating. He glanced down at the ropes and fought with renewed enthusiasm to break the hold.
"Dad, please don't do this." Dean said, attempting to bargain for their fate, "It was a mistake…"
"A mistake that won't be repeated." Dad said forcefully, "Dean, you are as much at fault here as your brothers. They don't take training seriously and that blame rests on you,"
Adam snuck a sideways look at Dean to see him hang his head in defeat as his shoulders slumped in guilt. What Dad said wasn't true, Adam knew that. He always took training seriously and Sam did most of the time. Dad was just looking for a way to blame Dean.
"Shirts off," Dad said, tightening his hold on the belt and slowly walking around behind the boys.
Adam swallowed in fear and gave one last powerful twist on his ropes, feeling the tightest bind gratefully slip free. At least if he was gonna take the belt, he wouldn't have to do it tied up. He watched from his peripheral as his brothers obeyed their father's command and slowly shrugged off their outer flannels and then their thin t-shirts.
"Adam," Dad warned dangerously from behind him.
Adam realized he had not yet followed the command and rushed to drop the rope and pull his shirt over his head. The room was silent except for each man's breathing as they kneeled shirtless on the old, musty motel room carpet waiting for their father's first strike
Adam heard the first lash crack loudly in the quiet room and saw Dean rock forward slightly, gasping softly in pain. The next strike came to Sam, causing him wince and shudder. Adam knew the next would be for him, but even knowing didn't prepare him for the white-hot bite that landed across his naked back moments later. The stroke drew an unexpectedly loud cry from deep within him that caused embarrassment to flush Adam's cheeks. He had wanted to stay quiet like his brothers.
Adam wasn't prepared to feel the next lash; somehow thinking that Dad would go back to Dean and the surprise of it forced another embarrassing shriek from him.
"Dad…" Dean called, looking over to Adam, "Please don't..."
Whatever dam of restraint that had been holding John back was broken with Dean's words and he suddenly let loose and the belt flew between Sam and Adam, striking each brother wildly. Adam could no longer kneel upright as blow after blow was forced upon him, blinding him with pain. In his haze of shock and agony, he felt Sam dive on top of him, covering Adam's body with his own absorbing more lashes. Adam was vaguely aware that the pain in his back had lessened but that the sounds of the crack of the belt were still reverberating around the room.
"Its ok, its ok, its ok," he heard Dean chanting from above him and realized that Dean too had thrown himself on top of Adam and Sam, taking the brunt of their father's rage.
Sobs were shaking Adam's chest as he buried his face in his hands, trying to hide beneath Sam, pushing himself further into the motel carpeting.
As suddenly as the torrent of violence had begun it stopped. Adam was still sobbing, struggling to get air into his lungs beneath the weight of his misery and crushing weight of his older brothers on his back.
Slowly he felt Sam and Dean lift themselves off of him and he hesitantly sat up, still feeling the lingering burn of the lashes on his back. Uncontrollable tears were still running down his face as he turned to look at both his brothers. Sam was shaking, silent tears streaking his own face and Dean was pale, taking in halting gulps of air trying to control himself.
"Get dressed," Dad barked out breathlessly from behind them.
Adam's lips quivered and his hands shook as he reached down for his discarded t-shirt, gently pulling it over his head and wincing as it touched his back. He could only imagine what it felt like for Dean and Sam.
Adam timidly looked over his shoulder at their father still standing behind the boys, Adam's belt held loosely in his hand. The red rage that had boiled over within him had evaporated and Dad stood immobile, a look of disbelief and uncertainty on his face.
Unsure if he should stand up, Adam glanced over at Dean who had put his own shirt back on and returned to kneeling obediently in front of their father. A quick glance over at Sam and Adam saw he too was still kneeling again and waiting for the command that would release them.
Behind them Dad cleared his throat gruffly, "I'm going out." he said quickly, his voice thick with emotion.
Adam flinched as the belt was dropped beside him and he watched from hooded lashes as his father grabbed his coat and keys from the motel table, swiftly moving out the door without a backward glance.
All three brothers visibly slumped with relief when the motel door closed and Adam felt exhaustion overtake him.
"You guys ok?" Dean asked, standing slowly and coming to help Sam and Adam stand as well.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled, shaking off Dean's help and tentatively shrugging his shoulders testing out the soreness of his back.
Adam nodded and gratefully let Dean help him up, relishing in the comfort of his brother's gentle touch.
"What about you?" Adam asked, looking between his older brothers trying to assess just how much of their father's rage they had spared him from.
"Fine," Dean said, ignoring the question and continuing to examine his brothers' injuries.
"I'm sorry guys," Adam whispered to the carpet in shame, acutely aware that he was the cause of this whole mess.
"Why?" Dean asked, coming around to look at Adam. "It's not your fault,"
Adam looked up at his brother skeptically. There was really no way this wasn't entirely his fault. If he hadn't been such a crybaby about the ropes and had just done the stupid training like he was supposed to then they wouldn't be flinching every time their shirts rubbed their backs.
"What just happened…" Dean said sympathetically "That had nothing to do with you."
"Yeah," Sam said coming around to Adam's other side, "And if we'd have known he was gonna start drinking, we never would have left."
"Sorry about that, kid," Dean said, putting a comforting hand softly on Adam's shoulder.
"Guess the hunt was worse than we thought?" Adam questioned quietly.
Dean opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped, studying the faces of each of his younger brothers carefully. Adam caught a flicker of guilt pass over Dean's features before he looked away, instead looking down to Adam's battered wrists.
"Let's get some bandages on those ok?" he said, changing the subject and taking Adam's hands in his own, turning them over to examine the extent of the damage, "Maybe we can convince him to move over to nylon huh?"
"Wait… am I gonna have to do this again when he comes back?" Adam cried out, feeling his stomach churn with renewed fear.
Sam and Dean exchanged glances before Dean spoke.
"I'd say you're probably off the hook for tonight," he said looking back at the empty whiskey glass still on the table, "but… uh…yeah…eventually, you'll have to do it again."
Adam frowned feeling the increasingly familiar feeling of hopelessness returning.
"But hey," Dean said trying to force a lighthearted tone, "If you can get out under pressure like you just did, it should be no problem!"
Adam forced a weak smirk for Dean's benefit, "Just call me Houdini," he whispered sarcastically.
Dean returned the smirk and then glanced down again at Adam's red wrists. "Let's get you cleaned up, ok? You to Sammy," he said eyeing the bruising that was darkening Sam's jaw, "Maybe some ice on that?"
Adam let Dean steer him to the motel bathroom, but couldn't ignore the lingering dread he felt knowing that the whole ropes training thing might not be over, even with the beating they had all just endured.
A/N- Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through these last three chapters. They really became a labor of love and seemed to take forever! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed the story and helped me along the way! Reviews mean so much and I really appreciate you taking the time to leave them! I'll be working on some more (not as long) one-shots!