Chapter 5
Adam didn't say a word during their trip back to Hartsville and the cheap motel they had been calling home for the past few weeks. The silence was killing Sam. It was all he could do to keep from peppering his little brother with questions, but he could tell that Adam was still zoning in and out from the heavy sedatives he'd been given and he knew that whatever information he got would be muddled and confused at best.
Sam was able to get Adam out of the truck without much difficulty, although as the meds began to wear off his brother balked and complained about Sam carrying him. Sam took that as a good sign.
Despite Adam's embarrassed complaining, by the time Sam set him down on the motel room bed he was sweaty and shaky, having returned to a zoned-out silence that made Sam uncomfortable. Channeling Dean's composure and determination, Sam set about making Adam as comfortable as he could given their circumstances. He slowly and carefully removed his brother's jeans, which had been slit almost to the waistband by doctors in rush to locate and staunch the teen's bleeding. He gently lifted his brother and peeled away the dirty, blood caked sweat jacket that he knew Dad had wrapped around him since Adam's t-shirt had also been sacrificed to the medical professionals. Grabbing his brother's only pair of running shorts and one of his own shirts, Sam dressed his little brother in a way he'd never imagined doing.
Dean must have dressed Sam a thousand times. Helping Sam's chubby, toddler hands through the armholes of a shirt, buttoning and zipping up little pants, untwisting his little brother from long sleeves that seemed determined to tie him up. But this experience, this intimate experience, was new for Sam and he couldn't decide how he felt about it. A little in awe of the memory of all Dean had done for him, a little gratified that he could pass along the love Dean had shown him, a little angry that Dad wasn't here for Sam or his younger brother.
By the time Sam had finished Adam was swaying, looking pale and green.
"Just lay back ok Adam?" Sam said, helping his brother lay down on the bed, surrounding him with the all the pillows they had in the room to keep his weight off his injured shoulder.
"Are you gonna throw up?" Sam asked, studying his little brother's pallor.
"I don't know," Adam mumbled weakly, swallowing absently.
Sam nodded and quickly grabbed the tiny motel trashcan from where it sat near the television, "Its ok if you do, just tell me and I'll be right here, ok?"
Adam nodded and Sam watched him swallow again, fighting his body's urge.
"Bad Sam. 's bad…" Adam mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.
"I know Adam. I know," Sam said, pulling his lips into a tight line in an effort to hide their involuntary tremble.
"Hey look," Sam said, gently brushing his hand through the short hair on the top of Adam's head in a movement he realized distantly was exactly what Dad did when for him when he was sick, "I'm gonna run out to the truck and get your pain meds ok?"
Adam's eyes flew open, "No! No Sam! Please don't leave" he cried, reaching up with his good arm to clasp Sam's wrist tightly, "Please!"
"Ok, ok," Sam replied, startled by the suddenness of Adam's movement and the desperation in his voice, "I'm not going anywhere."
"Sam…" Adam said weakly, silent tears beginning to run down his cheeks, "Sam…"
"I'm right here Adam," Sam said quietly, anxiously trying to comfort his brother but having no clue what he could do to ease his suffering.
"Sam…Sam…"
Adam was mumbling now, eyes closed, face turned up to the ceiling, tears streaming from his eyes, running down the sides of his face and dripping from his ears onto the pillow behind his head.
"I'm here Adam. I'm here. You're ok. You're ok now. It's ok," Sam chanted quietly, unconsciously moving the arm Adam still had a hold on so that he could grip his little brother's hand, gently rubbing Adam's arm with his free hand.
Adam's whispered mumbles of his brother's name didn't stop for several minutes until he finally succumbed to the exhaustion and residual pain medication and fell asleep. Sam didn't move. He should have freed himself from his brother's hold to go out to the truck and get Adam's meds, to make his brother something to eat for when he woke up, but Sam couldn't bring himself to move. He stayed frozen at Adam's side, kneeling awkwardly and leaning slightly on the bed, still holding Adam's hand and stroking his side. It wasn't until he noticed small dark spots appearing in front of him on the light orange blanket covering his brother that Sam even realized he was crying.
/-/-/-
It was nearly dark by the time Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel, Dad in the passenger seat gripping a cardboard tray full of sodas and two bags of burgers and fries at his feet.
Although, for once, food was the furthest thing from Dean's mind. He never had an appetite after a clean up like that. He wasn't prissy, he didn't mind digging graves or dumping bodies, but something about blood and the general wetness of bodily fluids just turned his stomach.
He glanced over at Dad, watching him balance the tray of drinks with one hand as he opened the car door and grabbed the bags of food with the other. Dean had hoped that dumping the car and the bodies would ease some of the tension that he could feel radiating off his father, but Dad was still as anxious as he was at the hospital, nerves frayed and on edge.
They opened the motel room door to find Sam crouched next to the bed Adam was laying on, his head bent as if in prayer, both hands tightly gripping one of his brother's hands.
Sam glanced up at them as they walked in and Dean recognized a look of equal despair and fury on his face.
"How is he?" Dad asked softly, placing the bags of food and drinks he was carrying on the wobbly kitchenette table by the door.
"Sleeping," Sam replied, matching Dad's whisper.
"You get him to eat?"
Sam shook his head, looking down at his and Adam's clasped hands, "He wouldn't let me go,"
Dean's heart tightened and he had to take a breath to steady himself, his mind racing to come up with some joke or sarcastic comment he could make that would lighten the mood.
"That's alright," Dad said from behind him. "You come over here and eat, I'll sit with him,"
"No, its ok," Sam said not looking up from Adam.
"Not an offer Sam. Get over here and eat with your brother. We're heading out in 30," Dad said, walking around where Dean was standing frozen in the middle of the room watching his family.
"What?" Sam questioned in shock, turning slightly to look back at their father.
"We need to get some distance," Dad said, walking over and slowly sitting down on the end of the bed near Adam's feet.
"Are you kidding me?" Sam whispered sharply.
Dad slowly pulled his eyes away from his youngest son to meet Sam's glare with his own scowl.
"Dad. We aren't going anywhere." Sam said forcefully, his voice hard but quiet, "He needs to rest."
Dean watched as Dad's jaw tightened and then released as he visibly tried to control his annoyance with his middle son.
"Sam. This is not a discussion. Go eat and then get packed up. Pack Adam's stuff too," Dad replied.
"Dad?" Dean questioned from where he still stood next to the table of fast food that was now rapidly losing whatever desirability it might have had. "We could go tomorrow. Give Adam a day to rest? We're two hours away as it is, there's probably not any heat on us here,"
Dad's eyes scrunched shut in another move that Dean recognized as his father trying his damnedest to keep control of his growing frustration with his children.
"We need to move. It's not worth the risk to stay. Adam still has the heavier meds in his system, we'll give him another dose before we leave and he'll sleep the whole way. That's far better than waiting until tomorrow when he'll be in a lot more pain," Dad explained slowly, keeping his voice low.
Sam shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to fight. Fight and argue with Dad to keep Adam here. Adam needed to stay put. Sam knew that for sure. Bouncing around in the Impala trying to make it two or three states away wasn't good for his injuries, no matter how much Dad doped him up.
"Go eat Sam." Dad ordered. "You too Dean."
"Not hungry," Sam replied spitefully.
"Not an option," Dad said, matching Sam's vicious tone.
Sam looked up at his Dad then and John noticed the redness in his son's eyes and felt guilty for his harsh words.
"I'm not up for this right now Sam," John said softly, staring back at Adam's still form, "Just go eat. I don't care how much. Just eat something. We aren't stopping once we hit the road,"
John felt Sam study his face carefully before resigning and slowly peeling his hands away from his brother to go to sit at the table.
"Dean," John said, not looking up.
"Yes sir." Dean said, finally moving from where he'd been standing and sitting down at the table across from Sam.
The room was quiet then except for the rustled sounds of paper as the boys ate. John kept sentry over Adam, watching the boy sleep and cursing himself on each breath he took.
True to his word, John made sure that thirty minutes later they were all packed up and ready to hit the road. Sam had been able to rouse Adam enough to get him to eat a few cold fries and take two of the large pills the hospital had given them. John held Adam as Dean and Sam took all the blankets and pillows off the motel room beds and stuffed them into the backseat of the Impala creating the most comfortable makeshift bed they could manage.
As the pain pills kicked in Adam began his unintelligible mumbling again, alternating calling out for Sam, Dean, and John and murmuring about blood. John debated asking one of the boys to drive the truck so that he could keep a closer eye on Adam, but in the end, he decided against it. Dean would be an anxious mess if he wasn't allowed to keep watch over Adam and there was no way that John wanted Sam alone in the truck and overthinking his rage for the entirety of the time it took them to make it to their destination. At least if Sam was in the car with Dean and Adam, maybe his brothers' presence would soften his anger, hopefully to a level that John could tolerate.
-/-/-
Back behind the wheel of the Impala, both his brothers by his side, Dean felt the strain of the day gradually beginning to leave his system.
He sighed quietly to himself watching the taillights of Dad's truck in front of him as he caressed the car's steering wheel. This is where he was meant to be. This is where he and his brothers were safe- cradled by the warm leather seats, protected by the hard steel body- this was comfort and home.
And there's no place like home, Dean thought.
Dean didn't necessarily agree with Dad that they had to hit the road immediately and get away from the crime scene, but he could see his father's point. If they were gonna travel at all, it was probably better to do it when Adam could sleep through the discomfort and really its not like the kid was that badly hurt. Dean had been worse off before, so had Sammy. And God knows Dad had. And each time they'd continued on, traveling, working, and researching. Very little got in the way of the family business. And that was fine with Dean. Monsters weren't gonna stop killing and feeding on people while the Winchesters took time off to heal. They had an obligation to push through their own pain so they could help people.
Besides, it's not like they usually stayed around in town after they ganked the monster anyway. Once the job was done there was no reason to stay. Yeah, occasionally Dad would let Dean and Sam stay behind while he confirmed the next case or while Sammy finished up a week of school, but generally, they hit it and quit it.
Of course, Dean understood Sam's point too.
Adam was new to the hunting game and this was his first really serious injury. The kid probably deserved some time to rest and recover and Dean would have liked to have given him that. At the very least Dean would make sure he'd be excused from PT for awhile while he healed up, so that was something.
Dean threw a glance up at the rearview mirror, surreptitiously checking on his little brother. Adam was still peacefully passed out in the back seat, surrounded by the gathered up motel bedding, drooling slightly on the pillow he had propped up against the door. A small smile crept onto Dean's lips at the sight. Adam was gonna be fine. Two stab wounds were really nothing and once the stitches came out he'd be good as new.
Dean settled more comfortably into the driver's seat, relaxing into the secure feeling of being behind the wheel of his car. Everything was gonna be ok. Adam was ok, Sam was ok, they were all together and that's really all that mattered.
A few hours later the silence that had enveloped the car since leaving the motel was broke by a pained sound.
Surprisingly, not from Adam.
"Dean. My books, my backpack… They're all still in my locker at the school…" Sam said suddenly, with a desperate moan at the realization.
"Ah crap Sammy," Dean said sadly, glancing over at this brother's forlorn expression, "I'm sorry dude."
Sam sank into the front seat, looking dejectedly out the window.
"This sucks," he whispered miserably.
"It's ok Sam. Really." Dean said glancing between his brother and the road, "We'll get you another backpack soon ok?"
"I know." Sam replied not looking at him, "I just…"
Sam hesitated, breaking off his sentence and staring embarrassedly at his hands.
"I want my books Dean. I want MY backpack."
Dean's heart gave a little twist at his brother's admission. He couldn't fault Sam for that. As much as he made fun of the kid for being such a nerd and loving his homework and his books, he really did understand wanting something of his own. It wasn't crazy that Sam felt connected to his stupid backpack, it was probably the same way Dean felt connected to Dad's leather jacket or the car. They each owned so little in their lives, it only made sense that they got attached to seemingly insignificant items.
"I know Sammy. I'm sorry bro," Dean said sadly, wishing there was more that he could do for his brother.
"I hate this." Sam said, his tone beginning to change, morphing from miserable to mad. "I hate everything about this."
"What?" Dean asked worriedly.
"This Dean." Sam said, sitting up suddenly and making a wild motion around the car, "All this. We're fleeing a crime scene right now. You just buried two bodies. Our 13-year-old brother got stabbed today."
Dean rolled his eyes. He knew this was coming. Sam had been vacillating between depressed and furious since he'd brought Adam home from the hospital and it seemed like the loss of his backpack had sent him over the edge.
"Come on Sam…" Dean said with a sigh, knowing it was better to let Sam get all this out of his system in the car now, rather than in the hotel later with Dad around.
"No Dean! You're completely oblivious! Do you even know what this is doing to Adam?"
"What?" Dean asked angrily
"Oblivious. It means…" Sam explained angrily,
"I know what it means dickwad," Dean snapped, "What do you mean about Adam?"
"I mean that he's barely a teenager and he just killed a person."
"Not a person Sam," Dean interjected, already becoming frustrated.
"Maybe not Dean but it looked like a person!" Sam said emphatically, turning in his seat to look at Dean, "He stabbed her in the face, you heard him, you don't think that's gonna screw with him a little?"
"Come on Sam, quit being such a drama queen," Dean replied, brushing off Sam's plea, "He'll be fine. It was his first real kill. He did good. We'll remind him of that. He's gonna be fine,"
"How can you even think that Dean?" Sam asked, sardonically, "He's different from us. He shouldn't be doing this,"
"Jeez Sam, will you just relax? We don't even know how he's gonna handle it. Yeah he's new to the game, but he's been training. He's gonna be fine,"
"He shouldn't have been out there," Sam said, ignoring his brother, "What the hell is wrong with Dad?"
"What are you talking about? It's not like Dad knew this was gonna happen. He was just taking the kid on interviews," Dean replied, growing more and more irritated with his brother's need to nitpick their lives.
"Yeah but he knew it was a possibility. He knew the shifter was in town and had already killed one person. He shouldn't have taken Adam out on something so risky," Sam said, glancing into the rearview.
"Ok, now you're reaching." Dean said, shaking his head, "Why don't you get your panties untwisted and just relax. Adam wanted to go with Dad. He was excited about watching the interviews- hell the kid's been begging to go hunt. Just 'cause you hate hunting doesn't mean everyone does,"
"Yeah and just cause you do everything Dad says, doesn't mean Adam should," Sam spat back.
Dean turned to glare deeply at his brother, "Look Sam. We don't know what happened. And until Adam wakes up, we won't, so I suggest you cool it,"
Sam gave Dean another glare and then huffed, sliding back down in his seat and glaring out the passenger side window.
"Jerk." He mumbled.
"Bitch." Dean muttered in return, scowling at the blacktop in front of him.
-/-/-/
Six hours later the Impala's gas tank was almost on E and Adam was beginning to stir, groaning uncomfortably from the backseat.
A quick call to Dad and the decision was made that they had traveled far enough and Dean followed the taillights of the black Sierra off the next highway exit and into the parking lot of yet another ramshackle no-name motel.
"Could we ever get a hotel, not a motel?" Sam mumbled as they pulled into the assigned parking space in front of their appointed room.
Dean ignored his brother and checked the rearview again, surprised this time to see two owlishly wide eyes looking back at him. Startled, Dean turned around in his seat.
"Hey kid," he said gently, throwing an arm over the back of the Impala's bench seat so he could turn further to talk to Adam, "How you doing?"
Adam stared back at him and started to give a little shrug, flinching at the painful movement.
"Yeah," Dean said, nodding toward Adam's shoulder, "Gonna be a little sore for a while. Its ok, though, Sammy's got some pain meds for you. We'll get settled in and get some food and you can take them ok?"
Adam gave a tiny nod back, his eyes drifting away from Dean to stare unfocused out the front windshield of the car.
"Come on Sam," Dean said, taking charge as he always did, "Let's get in and get this kid some drugs."
Sam didn't acknowledge his brother's command, but got out of the car and walked around to the driver's side, pausing back the door of the back seat, "You think we need to carry him again?"
Dean had gotten out of the car and stood next to the door as well, and gave a shrug.
"No," came a voice from behind them, "Sam grab the bags, Dean go get a bed turned back for your brother. I'll help him out of the car,"
"You're gonna let him walk?" Sam asked with concern.
John glanced at Sam before putting a hand on the Impala's door, "I'm gonna see what he can do. Boy can't be carried forever,"
"Yeah but…."
"Come on Sam," Dean said, interjecting and grabbing the sleeve of his brother's coat, pulling him towards the motel room.
John didn't watch them go, only stared down at the car door, bracing himself. There were so many times as a father he had to push his sons in ways he never wanted to. He wanted to be a good dad. He'd imagined being the kind of father he'd never had. He'd planned to be the kind of dad who coached little league and went to school programs, the dad who surprised his kids with ice cream and taught them about cars. Of course, John could have never imagined the way his life was destined to turn out, but he still wanted to be that father. Despite the hunting, the research, the killing, he wanted to be that Dad. And every time he couldn't be, he died a little.
He had to make things hard on the boys. He knew that, but it was never easy. Each time, he had to work to remind himself that they would be stronger, better, tougher when they struggled and learned. John knew his boys weren't living a life where they could be coddled and spoiled. They had to have confidence. They had to know just how much they were capable of. They had to know how hard they could push themselves and the only way they could learn that was if John was pushing them first. It hurt though. It always hurt John to watch the boys struggle. Watching them fumble with weapons too big for their tiny hands, eyes watery at missing targets too far away. John wanted to give in. More than anything he wanted to let them quit, tell them it was ok and give them hug. He never did though. More and more as they grew he'd stomp on his own consoling urges and frown at them, trying to conceal just how hard it all was for him too. He'd bark orders, his voice growing in volume, matching the growing hatred of what he was demanding of them.
Right now what he really wanted to do was scoop Adam up, cradled him in his arms and tuck him in safely to a nice, warm soft bed. But what John was actually going to do was pull his 13-year-old,half-drugged, barely functioning kid out of the car and demand he walk to a cold motel bed.
John took a stifled breath and promised himself a handle full of whiskey when this was all done with.
Slowly opening the car door, John leaned down and helped Adam sit up a little more in the backseat.
"Ok son," he said, "Let's go,"
John held a hand out, but made no move to reach in and assist Adam, hoping the kid would get the hint and start making his way out of the car.
Adam didn't move right away. He didn't even look at John.
Concerned, John leaned down again, one hand on the Impala's roof and the other on the open door, trying to get a better look at his son.
Adam had that thousand-yard stare that John had seen on his son's face before.
Back when he'd first found his son in that tomb.
They never spoke of it- that time when John had rescued Adam in the crypt, only to find that Kate had already fallen to the beasts that had taken them. John tried not to dwell on the memory as a whole and he wasn't completely sure what Adam remembered, but he recognized that far away stare.
Adam had been very near death when John had found him in that coffin. Dehydrated, emaciated and covered in bites and cuts. John knew what Adam had witnessed during his days of torture. He knew his boy had seen what looked like his own mother and a version of himself, torment him horrifically by peeling off bits of his skin and biting chunks from his tender flesh. John's boy had been tortured for days- all so that those evil bastards could get to John. Shit, if they'd have asked John would have peeled off his own skin and handed it piece by piece over to those damn ghouls to have saved his boy.
As it was, John was able to get the real Adam out of the crypt, wrapping the boy in his own worn out flannel, before hauling ass back to the Milligan house to put a bullet in between the eyes of the ghoul masquerading as his son. From there it was a weeklong stay in the hospital to get Adam back to the right side of functional, John's sleepless guard over his son was broken only long enough for him to dispose of the monster's bodies. In that time, Adam had been completely silent, staring distantly and disconnectedly at his surroundings. John was not unfamiliar with this type of traumatized silence. Dean had dealt with his own bout of muteness after Mary's death and although John was pretty deep in the bottle at that time he didn't remember Dean ever losing connection with the world the way Adam did in those first days. Dean may have been quiet, but at least he would interact. John's little preschooler didn't say a word for a long time after his mother's death, but he'd pull on John's shirtsleeves or point to things. Adam didn't make a move for days.
Adam gradually came out of his trance and John was hesitant to bring anything up about Kate or the incident that might send Adam back down the path of insanity. So they never spoke of it. Never spoke of her.
Staring at Adam now, John could see Adam slipping back into that disconnected state.
"Hey." John said sharply, leaning into the cab and waving a hand in front of Adam's face, "Uh-uh." he said snapping his fingers loudly about a half-inch from Adam's nose, causing the boy to flinch and blink.
"We're not doing that." John said firmly, "Come on, get out of the car,"
Adam blinked quickly, the fog clearing from his eyes as he looked around the car.
"Where's Sam? Dean?" he asked, peering out the open door to scan the parking lot.
John gave a quick nod towards the open motel room, "In the room, waiting on you," he said.
"Oh." Adam replied quietly.
"Come on then," John said, stepping back out of the way of the backseat, putting a hand out for Adam to grab for support.
Adam started to fidget in the backseat, untangling himself from blankets, grimacing and groaning quietly as the movements irritated his injuries. John kept a tight hold on his emotions as he watched Adam struggled to get out of the car, testing his weight on foot and then the other when he realized he couldn't quite walk.
Adam leaned heavily on the Impala's door, his face already pale and sweaty from the small movement.
"Hurts, Dad." He mumbled, folding in on himself.
"I know son," John said, leaning down and grasping his son under his uninjured arm to help him walk. It would have been so much easier to just pick Adam up and carry him, but John reminded himself that pain was necessary and Adam would be stronger the more he could learn to endure.
"Come on and walk," John said, taking some of Adam's weight, but leaving most of the teen's movements up to him.
"Dad…" he cried quietly, his voice strained.
"I know son. I know it hurts," John said, pulling Adam along a little, forcing him to walk, "But pain is part of life. You just gotta push through it and then it's over ok? Just keep going,"
Adam gave a tight little nod and pushed himself forward, steps halting and breathe labored with the effort. John's heart gave a sad little twist watching his son, but he stamped down the feeling and focused on making sure Adam didn't fall.
It only took them a few minutes to make it into the room, meeting the anxious waiting faces of Adam's older brothers. John could tell that Dean was itching to take over. His son was pacing near the prepared motel bed, smoothing the blankets and adjusting the pillows for the entirety of the time it took them to walk over to it. Sam was stoic, standing at the foot of the bed seemingly on guard for some reason John was unsure of.
Together they got Adam settled into bed and John pulled out one of his emergency protein bars from his go bag and demanded that Adam eat, offering him a pain pill after. Sam and Dean made themselves comfortable in the room surreptitiously watching their younger brother as he dutifully chewed the bar that he clearly didn't like the taste of.
After Adam had taken the pills and Sam and Dean had unpacked to their normal level of relative comfort John breathed a little sigh of relief and cleared his throat.
"Ok then," he said, standing up from where he'd been sitting on the bed next to Adam, "I'll go out and get us some supplies."
John didn't miss the look of surprise that Dean gave him or the look of pure animosity that he got from Sam. At least he could be proud that his boys weren't stupid. They knew where he was going and it sure as hell wasn't to get supplies.
But John couldn't wait any longer. He could feel the cracks beginning to show and he had to get away. He needed some time alone to process and put away the memory of what he'd just done to his youngest son.
John grabbed his discarded jacket from the end of the bed, reaching into the pocket to grab his keys.
"Look after your brother," he said, not looking at each older boy as he fumbled distractedly with the keys.
He turned away from them, to hide the embarrassment of what they knew, and fled the room as quickly as he could.
"It's 3am," Adam said bewilderedly from the bed where he was propped up on thin motel pillows, "Why do we need supplies at 3am?"
Sam and Dean exchanged a look and neither brother answered.
After a few quiet moments, Dean sighed and stood up from where he'd been sitting on the opposite motel bed, slowly pulling on his boots and lacing them up.
"Where are you going?" Adam asked, panic in his voice.
"Don't worry about it kid. Sam'll be here with you. You just get some sleep ok?" Dean replied, not looking at Adam as he grabbed his keys.
"Dean!" Adam cried out, trying to sit up.
Sam was on him in a flash, gently pushing him back down into the bed, "It's ok Adam. It's ok,"
"I'll be back," Dean said and like that he was out the door.
"Sam!" Adam cried, his voice desperate on the verge of tears, "What the hell?"
Sam still had an arm on Adam's shoulder and moved it up to soothingly rub his brothers hair, "It's ok Adam. Dean's just gonna follow Dad to find out what bar he's at so we know where to get him from later,"
"What?" Adam said woefully.
"Just try to get some sleep ok?" Sam said, smoothing down Adam's dirty and greasy hair.
"Sam…" Adam murmured sadly as he slumped down miserably into the pillows, "I don't… I don't…"
"I know." Sam said, cutting his brother off, "Just let those pain pills kick in ok? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm here and Dean and Dad will be back soon,"
"Sam?" Adam whispered, the misery slowly fading from his voice.
"Yeah?"
"I remember it." Adam said, gazing away from his brother.
"What?"
"I remember killing it. Killing her." Adam said quietly, his eyes far away and unfocused again, "Dad went down and I just ran in there. I stabbed her. So many times… It was so hard. And then…. then… I stabbed her… in the face. In the face Sam…. Under her eye… it was like all popping out…. and it was like oozing blood and she was all gurgling… and…"
"Adam. Stop." Sam said suddenly, stilling the hand he still had on Adam's head. "Stop."
"Sam… I killed..."
"Stop Adam." Sam ordered, sounding enough like Dad that Adam blinked and looked up at him, "Don't think about it. Ok? Don't. Think about something else, a tv show or something. Do not think about what happened."
Adam stared at Sam strangely for a moment before replying, "Ok,"
"Just close your eyes and try to sleep ok? Let those pills do their job." Sam said gently, beginning to stroke his brother's hair again.
"And you won't leave right?" Adam asked, slowly closing his eyes and sinking a little further into the pillows.
"No. I'll be right here," Sam said confidently, ignoring the tingle of guilt that awoke in his stomach at the blatant lie.
Sam knew he'd have to leave at some point to go with Dean to pick Dad up off the floor of whatever hole in the wall bar he'd found to drown himself in, but hopefully that would be a few hours from now and Adam would be deep in the comfort of the heavy sedatives he'd been prescribed and his brothers' presence wouldn't be missed.
Sam absently stroked his little brother's hair as he fell asleep, waiting until Adam's breathing was deep and regular before he stopped his movements.
Stabbed her in the face.
Just like Adam had mentioned at the hospital. Dad was down, unconscious from Sam's guess, and Adam had thrown himself into the fray.
Dean would be proud.
Sam was furious.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
A/N—If anyone is interested, John's memory of the event with Adam (the basis for the Jump the Shark episode) is based off a fic called Coalescence by spaycesickle. It's an amazing Adam story that details what his life would have been like if Dean had been able to rescue him from the crypt. It's a long read and several years old, but really, really well done. I highly recommend it.
A/N 2: Another thank you to everyone who reads and reviews this story! The case part of the case fic is over and done with but now I'm excited to start dealing with the fallout. If I haven't been able to message each of you personally ( guests!) just know I REALLY appreciate your thoughts on each chapter! Not only is it motivating but it helps me to decide the direction of the story. So any reviews, ideas, thoughts or suggestions are welcome! Thank you!