Chapter 4-
Sam Winchester burst through the front doors of the school, sending the metal doors flying back with a crash that echoed down the hall as he dashed down the front steps as fast as his long lanky legs could carry him.
Panic and terror had sent his heart racing the moment his name came across the school intercom system. Even normal kids knew nothing good came from being paged to the front office, but for Sam things couldn't have been worse.
The school secretary was vague on the details, she could only say that his brother had called, something had happened and Dean was coming to pick him up. Last time Sam checked Dean was on his way to Florida for a hunt with Caleb. Things had to have gone seriously toe up for Dean to ditch the hunt and pull Sam from school.
Which meant things had gone bad for Adam and Dad.
Which shouldn't have happened. They were just interviewing witnesses today. Dad had assured both Sam and Dean that today was just recon, that Adam would be safe and that he'd just be getting his feet wet learning to deal with civilians during a case. What the fuck happened?
Sam skipped down the last three cement steps onto the sidewalk in front of the school just as the Impala rumbled up. He raced toward the passenger side, throwing open the door and jumping in.
"What happened?" he asked breathlessly, grabbing for his seatbelt as Dean gunned it out of the school parking lot, barely waiting until Sam was in the car to start rolling.
"Dad called. He and Adam are in the red," Dean said, pushing down the accelerator and mentally calculating just how fast he could get to Hartsville.
"How bad?" Sam asked shortly, fear edging into his voice.
"Don't know." Dean replied, keeping a steady focus on the road and trying to keep his own terror in check, "He didn't say. I heard Adam though… in the background… he's alive at least, but that's all I got."
"And Dad? He's hurt too?" Sam questioned, his heart racing and terror pulsing in his veins.
"I said I don't know Sam!" Dean yelled sharply, clenching the steering wheel and pressing the gas down again, his speed climbing with his fear.
"Fuck." Sam said, unaffected by Dean's outburst, "They were just supposed to be interviewing the husband, checking the body. What the hell happened?"
Dean shook his head trying to control his emotions, "I don't know, but we're meeting them at the hospital."
A heavy stone of dread landed in Sam's stomach at the word hospital. Things had to be really, really bad for Dad to have decided to go to the hospital. Dad prided himself on his field medic skills and he'd worked hard over the years to add a wide variety of abilities to his toolbox. Sam could count on one hand the number of times that he'd ever seen Dad hospitalized, despite the fact that he'd seen his father come back from hunting with more injuries than he cared to remember. Injuries that he knew should have seen professional attention, at least more than a needle, thread and whiskey bottle. Even Sam himself had only been to the hospital for broken bones, and Sam figured that if Dad could have managed to make plaster casts on his own he probably wouldn't have even gone then.
Sam hoped that all Adam had was a broken bone, just something minor that John didn't have the tools to patch up in their motel room.
Sam hoped.
But from the naked fear on Dean's face as he pushed the car well past the marked speed limit, he knew that hope was unlikely. Dad had said something else. Or Dean had heard something, something he wasn't telling Sam, something that had caused Dean's protective instincts to fly into overdrive.
"Dad said he's gonna be ok," Dean said, and Sam knew that Dean had felt Sam's eyes on him, studying him and trying to pull out whatever secret he thought Dean was keeping.
"That doesn't mean anything," Sam said coldly.
"Yeah, I know." Dean said flatly, keeping his eyes on the road so he wouldn't have to see the panic he knew was building in his little brother's eyes.
-/-
They reached Hartsville in just under an hour, having ignored all posted speed signs and luckily avoiding any well-meaning officers of the law.
Dean barely had the Impala in park before both he and Sam were out of the car and dashing toward the sliding glass doors of Mercy General Hospital. They skidded into the emergency room, scrambling in a frenzy of fear and panic to get to the main desk.
"My dad…" "My brother…" they said at the same time, overwhelming a young nurse sitting behind the desk, phone between her ear and shoulder.
"Just a minute," she said into the receiver, turning to look up at them. "Excuse me?
"My dad…" "My brother…" they both repeated, tripping on each other's words.
"Dean!"
Both brothers turned immediately at the call, pushing away from the desk and spotting their father who had appeared outside a set of double doors.
"Dad!" Dean said as they rushed him, taking note of the dried blood and butterfly bandage on his father's temple, "Where's Adam?"
"Dad! Is he ok? What happened?" Sam asked frantically.
"Ok boys, ok." Dad said, reaching out to put a hand on each of their shoulders to settle them, "He's gonna be ok. He's hurt, but not too bad. He's sleeping now. Doctors had to give him some heavy stuff to get him patched up, but he gonna be ok."
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"Can we see him?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah, I'll take you back," Dad agreed, dodging Sam's question.
They followed Dad back into the emergency room, glancing between the curtained areas at gurneys filled with injured and waiting patients. Halfway back, Dad turned into one of the little areas and suddenly all the air Sam had in his lungs was gone.
There, in a huge hospital bed, was his little brother.
His tiny, little brother.
Was he always this small looking? He didn't seem so small this morning when he was shoving around Sam to get into the motel bathroom first. God was that only this morning?
Adam was naked from the waist up, a light blue hospital gown crumbled around his waist, a large white bandage wrapping around his right shoulder. He had long scratches down the side of his face, purple bruises darkening around his jaw. He was too pale, too skinny. Numbly, Sam made a mental note to start pumping the kid with more protein when he was out of this. Dean would be on board for that; he was always trying to get the kid to eat more.
Dean.
Sam glanced at his older brother and found a look of crushing heartache and worry across his face.
"He's pretty beat up," Dad admitted, coming to stand beside Adam's head, where the young boy was still unconscious thanks to whatever meds he'd been given.
Sam cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, "Are they gonna keep him overnight?"
"No," Dad said, looking down at Adam, "They'll release him once he wakes up. They had to put him under to do the internal stitches on his leg."
Dean made a soft choking sound and looked down to the thin hospital sheet that was covering Adam's lower half.
"Yeah, took a stab to the thigh, one to the shoulder and quite a few small slashes on his arms," Dad said, his detached and clinical voice a stark contrast to the soft, sad eyes that stared down at Adam.
"Dad…." Sam started, wanting to beg his father for an explanation on what happened, how this could have happened.
"Boys," Dad said suddenly, taking a breath and leaning down over Adam, drawing both boys in with the move. He rubbed his beard, scratchy with growing 5 o'clock shadow, before tapping his chin pointedly and looking each boy in the eye.
Sam and Dean both took note of the movement and watched their father intensely, preparing for the coded message they knew they were about to receive.
"You two need to go to the house…."
The victim's house.
"…grab your brother's red coat…"
Get rid of Adam's blood.
"...and take out the trash, there's two bags waiting for you in the garage..."
Two bodies. Get rid of them.
"...bring back lunch. Pick up at the Biggerson's on 9th."
Truck is at the restaurant. Get it and bring it back.
Dean nodded an affirmative at the message and glanced at Sam who also nodded seriously.
"I'll give you a call when he wakes up ok?" John said, looking at each boy, wishing he wasn't sending his sons out on such a depraved errand.
"Go on then," he said, nodding toward the door, "Get going so you can get back,"
John watched as each boy threw a pitiful look at Adam and then hurried away, no doubt cursing their father's name as they went. John didn't blame them one bit.
-/-
They rode in silence to the victim's house. Sam could still feel the millions of questions he had for his father racing in his head, burning in his throat, but Dad's instructions for them had sent him into a cold space, void of emotion.
As Dad's coded message had sunk in, Sam had felt himself become impassive, his concern for his brother fading like white noise into the background as the callous, calculating part of his brain took over.
Both he and Dean had been trained on how to clear and stage crimes scenes. Over the years they'd learned how to move bodies, clean up blood, remove any evidence that could identify or tie them to a scene. They'd also been taught how to stage a scene if necessary, how to make it look like nothing supernatural had ever occurred. John had made sure they each knew, in excruciating detail, all the things that could go wrong in a crime scene cover-up and how careful they had to be in these types of situations.
Although they had the training, had run through mock-up scenarios with their father, had listened as he quizzed them on seemly insignificant details of evidence and police procedure as they tried to watch MASH reruns in the evenings, neither son would ever be comfortable with this part of the job. Dean was more experienced then Sam, having started hunting years before Sam was allowed, but he never spoke of the things he was asked to do after the monster was destroyed. Sam had gone into hunting knowing that something would be killed and that some cleanup would be required, but something in him changed once it was his turn to light the fires, dig the graves and stage the scenes.
Sam couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but he knew why. His fragile human brain couldn't deal with the trauma he was exposing it to, so it simply turned off.
It's why he couldn't remember picking the lock that got him and Dean into the victim's garage, why he had no memory of moving the heavy, lumpy, uncooperative dead weight of the bodies, why he was surprised later when he washed his hands to see they were still tinged red from where he scrubbed his baby brother's blood off a stranger's garage floor.
Sam knew what he had done, he was there witnessing it all, but if he had been asked to recall any part of it he couldn't say for certain what he did or didn't do. Did he smooth back the murdered woman's hair from her face and wish she'd had better luck? Did he gag at the smell of her perfume mixed with blood when he leaned over the shapeshifter? Did he cry after the bodies were placed in the trunk of the Impala and they were back on their way to the hospital? He didn't know. He didn't want to.
-/-/
Dean got the call that Adam was awake just after they had picked up Dad's truck from the Biggerson's parking lot. Relief had flooded him immediately with Dad's assurance that Adam was doing ok and they'd be ready to go after getting his antibiotic and pain prescriptions filled. Dean was thankful that Dad was actually following doctor's orders on this one and getting Adam the meds he'd need to fight off any potential infection he might get from his wounds. Dean knew that if Dad had been the one injured he skip the pain meds, antibiotics and whatever and just 'rub some dirt on it' so he could get back to work. Dean shook his head in amazement at the thought. Dad was so damn tough.
Still, he was glad Adam would be taken care of.
Following behind Sam, who was driving Dad's truck back to the hospital, Dean let his mind wander, trying to stave off the persistent, lingering questions he had about how Adam had gotten hurt in the first place. Rubbing a hand across his eyes in a quick, but weary motion Dean tried to forget the mental image of his little brother, battered and unconscious in the hospital bed. This was the first time the kid had seen any real injury, something more than a cut or big bruise and he wondered how Adam might handle it. If he was anything like Dean or Dad he'd be grumbling and pissed, annoyed in general about being hurt and frustrated by the time it took to heal. If he was like Sam he'd be miserable and mopey, also pissed about being hurt but more silent and despondent than anything else. Dean sighed to himself as he went through his mental checklist of the things they'd need to care for Adam after his hospital stay: saltines and bland foods since the meds the doctors used to knock him out would probably make his stomach upset, crutches or a cane of some sort so he could get around while the wound in his leg healed without tearing the stitches, some new books to read or a movie to watch while he was laid up. Had they driven past a Blockbuster on the way into town? Dean tried to remember. Running through the mental list of needs was thankfully enough to keep his mind occupied until he made the turn into the hospital parking lot.
He chose a secluded spot near the back, hoping that he was parked far enough away that the creeping smell of the bodies in his trunk wouldn't be noticed and they could get Adam and get out of town to finish the clean up before they had more problems. Sam had taken Dad's truck and parked it nearer to the building, wanting it to be close to the entrance so that they could easily get Adam into the cab. Although they hadn't discussed it, the brothers had instinctively determined that while the Impala's backseat would no doubt be considerably more comfortable for Adam in his injured state, there was no way that they could pull close enough to the building to get him loaded into the car without alerting everyone that there was something rotting nearby. As it was, Dean was going to be detailing his Baby for a month to get the smell out.
Sam stood restlessly outside the large sliding glass doors of the Emergency Room, impatiently waiting for Dean to join him.
Dean knew by the look on Sam's face that the fear for his younger brother was gradually turning into rage at their father and he hoped they could at least get back to the motel room before Dad and Sam made a scene.
They walked side by side through the sliding glass doors into the lobby of the emergency room, each still feeling anxious and uneasy from their unpleasant errand. Dean spotted Dad and Adam first and hurried over to where they waiting. Adam was sitting dazedly in a wheelchair in front of Dad clutching a small white paper bag with the name 'Adam Townsend' printed on it. Dean knelt down in front of him, gently putting a hand on his brother's uninjured leg.
"Hey kiddo," he said softly, tilting his head to try to look into Adam's downcast eyes. "How you doing?"
Adam was silent and Dean wasn't sure if his brother hadn't heard his soft words or if the kid was ignoring him. Dean glanced up at Dad, who was standing behind Adam's wheelchair, wondering if Dad had noticed Adam's despondency.
"He's still a little loopy from the drugs," John explained, avoiding the relentless glower he could feel beating down on him from his middle son.
Dean nodded at the explanation and stood up, just as Adam began to mumble.
"What?" he asked gently, leaning down again to try to make out Adam's garbled words.
"They won't let me walk," Adam said again, sounding like a slightly drunk version of himself.
Dean gave his brother a soft, reassuring smile, "'Course not, kid. You get the star treatment. I'll have to teach you how to pop a wheelie in this thing," he said light-heartedly.
"Dad…" Sam started quietly, unable to sit on his anger and curiosity a moment longer, "When are you gonna tell us what happened?"
John slowly pulled his eyes away from the sweet sight of his oldest and youngest sons' camaraderie to scowl at his middle son. Sam knew better than to bring this shit up in public.
"In the face…" Adam was mumbling again, staring at the floor.
"What?" Dean questioned, leaning down again and wondering if he had heard correctly.
"In her face," Adam said louder, looking up at Dean as if he didn't know his brother, "I stabbed her. In the face,"
Dean's stomach dropped at the words and he glanced at his father, whose face was completely unreadable.
"Time to go." Dad commanded firmly, placing a hand on Adam's uninjured shoulder and gently leaning him back a little more comfortably in the wheelchair.
Sam and Dean followed their Dad and brother outside, Sam pointing the way over to where he'd parked the pickup truck. Together they made short work of getting Adam into the cab of the truck, laying him in a semi-reclined position that seemed to avoid putting strain on his injured shoulder and leg.
As Dad closed Adam's passenger side door, he turned to face Sam and Dean. "Sam, take the truck and take your brother back to the motel, get him to eat something if you can. Dean, you're with me."
Sam nodded at the order and pulled the truck keys from his pocket, still desperately wanting more information from his father, but knowing that until whatever had to be done was done, Dad wasn't gonna engage him.
As Sam turned to walk around the front of the truck he felt a soft hand land on his shoulder, making him pause. He looked back to see Dad staring at him with somber eyes, "Take care of your brother son," he said seriously.
Sam swallowed a lump that had unexpectedly formed in his throat and nodded, "Yes sir,"
Dad gave him a nod of approval before turning his attention to Dean, "Come on son,"
Dean followed his Dad back toward the emergency room and the front parking lot.
As they walked Dad spoke very quietly. "I've still got the pathologist's car here. Adam's blood is all over it, so we're just gonna dump it. You got the bodies?" he whispered lowly, glancing up at his son.
Dean nodded, taking note of his father's dispassionate tone.
"Good. Follow me and we'll find a place to dump the car and then we'll take care of them."
Dean nodded again, thankful that this part of Dad's plan would likely be less gruesome then what he and Sam had been forced to deal with in that garage.
"Dad?" Dean questioned quietly.
Dad threw him a quick scowl, one that Dean recognized from years of experience that told him he'd be better off shutting up, but he pushed on, knowing that he couldn't ask how Adam had been hurt but still wanting to know something, anything about what happened.
"What'd you tell the doctors?" Dean asked in an almost whisper.
"We were mugged," Dad replied, not looking at Dean as they approached a small blue car."Get in," he said opening the driver's side door, "I'll drive you over to the Impala,"
Dean dutifully walked around the car, but as he leaned down to open the passenger side door he froze.
Blood.
From the passenger side window, Dean could easily see the dark, rust color stains that covered the back seat.
Shit. He thought to himself, unable able to muster anything more eloquent.
He grit his teeth and sighed before opening the door and sliding into the seat, refusing to look back as Dad started the small car and they began another horrible errand.
-/-
A/N- This case fic just keeps going! Hope you all are liking it and the characters and plot are coming across! Thank you to everyone who sends me a review, I absolutely love knowing what you think about the story and how I can make it better or more interesting. Feedback is amazing and I welcome your ideas! This whole case fic was actually an idea from reviewer/friend NoilyPrat, and I'm so grateful to her for it! It's becoming a lot of fun! :) More updates soon!