Chapter 23 Dine and Dash Part 2
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"Morning Charlie!" Officer Reynolds said brightly as he walked into the station for his Sunday shift. He always looked forward to this shift. It wasn't his normal gig, but since Jerry had been out recovering from that heart attack, he'd stepped up to help cover. Sunday was always a pretty peaceful day around the city, not many people causing trouble, which made it an enjoyable and easy eight hours on the job.
"What time did that kid finally get outta here?" he asked, grabbing a stack of papers from his work mailbox and coming to stand near Charlie's desk.
"He's still here," the man replied.
"You're shitting me." Reynolds said, "Really?"
"Yeah, took him some donuts earlier," Charlie said, nodding back toward the cells.
"Damn it." Reynolds replied, putting down his papers.
Seemed like his suspicions were correct: this kid wasn't just 'dining and dashing' for fun. This kid was hungry. Reynolds had hoped that the kid's story about being new to town and taking on the dare was true, but really one look at him and he knew it wasn't. Second-hand clothes, barely clean, smelling like motor oil and hanging off him two sizes too big. Pale complexion, thin freckled skin, and scars peeking out from behind his too long sleeves, Reynolds wasn't surprised that no one answered when the kid called.
He walked over to his desk and opened the large file cabinet drawer, leafing through to find the contact information for the weekend operations for Child Protective Services. As much as he hated putting kids into the system, it would mean this kid could get some decent food and maybe be looked after a little bit. He seemed like a nice kid after all.
Grabbing the folder, he took it with him as he walked back to the cells to check on the kid. Peeking through the glass door before he turned the handle, he couldn't see Adam. Charlie said the kid was still here, right?
Opening the door quickly he strode into the room to examine the cell.
There, tucked up under the bench, wrapped up in a tight ball, with his winter coat over his head was the kid.
"Hey," he said gently.
Adam pulled the coat from his head and rolled over to face the officer. He'd gotten under the bench to try to get a break from the blinding overhead lighting in hopes of getting a little sleep. Why couldn't he have gotten arrested in a town that had beds in their cells?
"Charlie says he couldn't get anyone on the phone,"
"Yeah," Adam grumbled, rolling out from under the bench and standing up with a groan.
The officer stood outside the cell, a manila folder in his hands looking sadly at Adam.
"So…" he started and Adam felt dread rise in his belly, "We can give it a few more hours, but I'm gonna go ahead and put in a call to Child Protective Services,"
"What?" Adam asked in shock. "Are you serious?"
"Son," the officer said softly, "You and I both know it wasn't a dare that sent you into Ol' Don's yesterday. But listen, before I make this call, do you have anyone else? Your mom? Is she in the picture?"
"No," Adam replied softly, looking away from the officer.
"Ok. Well, I'll give them a call then, start the process,"
"You can't do that," Adam replied angrily, exhaustion fueling his temper, "It hasn't even been 24 hours yet!"
The cop stared back at him calmly, "I don't have to wait 24 hours son, not if it's in your best interest,"
"It's not!" Adam yelled furiously, "My dad is working. He'll be back. My brother is just being a dick! But I'm fine. Seriously. I don't need you to call them!"
"Son, I think you do," the officer said, looking over Adam sadly.
"I don't!" Adam snarled back, glaring at him.
The officer didn't reply but stared at him a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the heavy door with the glass.
"I'm fine man!" Adam yelled at the officer's back as he opened the door and walked out, leaving him alone again.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
How could thing go so epically, monumentally wrong? It was one meal. One lousy meal. And now he was staring down a confrontation with CPS?
Adam kicked at the bars of the cell before turning back and stomping over to the bench, sitting down heavily.
He wasn't going with CPS that was for damn sure. He hadn't stayed out of the system this long to get picked up for something so stupid. No. Hell no. Cops would pass him off to some caseworker and Adam would hit the bricks and be gone as fast as he could. He'd figure it out from there, but he sure as shit wasn't going to some juvy halfway house
As he sat staring at the blank walls of the jail cell, he slowly ran his hand over the lock pick set hidden on the inside of his coat. He didn't move, afraid of the possibility of cameras in the room, but allowed himself to shift slightly to feel the comforting pressure of his silver knife against his leg.
He was getting out of here. One way or another.
/-/-/-/-/-/
Several minutes or hours later (he still wasn't sure on time without a clock), Adam was still sitting in the cell on the metal bench, finalizing his escape plan. He'd examined the lock on the cell and discovered that he couldn't pick it from the angle he was at. He'd have to wait until one of the officers came for him. But that was ok. He'd use the trust he'd developed with Officer Reynolds to make sure he was able to walk out of the cell without being cuffed. Once out, Adam figured he'd probably be taken to some small room to be interviewed by CPS. That was how it always happened on tv anyway. All it would take from there was getting alone for enough time to get away. Maybe a bathroom break and he could find a window, or maybe asking for something to drink would give him enough time to sneak off.
Adam was still working through the final details of his plan when the heavy door to the room clicked and he glanced up expecting to see Officer Reynolds.
Even with a quick glance, he immediately recognized the shadow of the man coming through the door and he jumped up off the metal bench.
"Dad!" Adam shouted in shock.
Dad walked slowly into the room. His expression grim but controlled, his heavy steps striking a fear into Adam that he hadn't anticipated.
"Dad! I…I can explain…" Adam stuttered out, but a slow discouraging nod from his father caused the words to die in his throat.
Officer Reynolds stepped in front of Dad and with a quick jingle of his keys the door to the cell was unlocked and opened.
Adam swallowed uncertainly, happy that he was now most likely free of the whole mess with the local pd, but knowing that he was in a whole different mess now that Dad was involved.
Adam stepped forward and Dad reached out and gently put a hand on the back of his head.
"You're ok?" he asked, studying his son.
"Yes sir," Adam responded quietly with a nod.
Dad nodded in return and looked over to Officer Reynolds.
"I'm sorry for the trouble my son has caused," he said calmly, surprising Adam with the sincerity of his words. "We'll stop by the deli today and repay the owner,"
"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Officer Reynolds said, adjusting his gear belt restlessly under Dad's serious gaze.
Dad nodded and put a hand on Adam's shoulder, preparing to leave.
"Uh sir?" the officer started nervously.
Adam could never get enough of how grown men cowed in his father's presence. John Winchester was a force of nature and it was nice to know that Adam wasn't the only one intimidated by him.
"Sir, you should know I've put in a call to CPS," Officer Reynolds said. "Protocol, you know?"
Adam looked up at his father, awaiting his response, knowing that inside Dad was absolutely furious to find out that Adam had almost let himself be thrown into the system. It was bad enough that the cop knew both their real names and real information, but to include CPS in the situation was a true danger. Adam was still under age and despite Dad's numerous skills and constant running, there was still a chance that Adam could be taken away from them.
Dad's poker face was perfect however and none of the internal panic he was probably feeling showed at all.
"I understand officer. You're just doing your job. I appreciate you looking after my boy for me. I'll be expecting their call,"
Sure, Adam thought, knowing that they'd all be ditching their phones and hitting the highway tonight, trying to put distance between themselves and the disaster Adam had created.
"Thank you for being understanding about this Sir, we only want what's best for Adam," the officer replied, nodding down at Adam.
"Of course," Dad agreed, "And I apologize again for the trouble he's caused. Adam?" Dad said, squeezing his shoulder painfully.
Adam knew exactly what was expected of him, "Yes sir, I'm very sorry for the trouble and I appreciate you looking after me. It won't happen again,"
Officer Reynolds nodded down at him and Adam felt him searching for any reason that Adam shouldn't be allowed to go with his Dad. Adam knew the whole situation didn't look great, but Dad had shown up and he looked like a normal father: wearing clean jeans and a flannel shirt under a heavy black coat. He wasn't covered in blood or bruises like some of the other times when he returned from a hunt.
Dad squeezed his shoulder again as Officer Reynolds turned and they followed him out of the cells and back toward the bullpen of the station.
"Thank you for coming Mr. Winchester," the officer said, holding out a hand.
Dad nodded and shook the officer's hand, "Thank you again, officer. Come on, son."
Adam's stomach was rolling with dread and fear and embarrassment as they walked out of the police station into the cold January weather, Dad's fingers digging into the shoulder of Adam's coat.
"I ought to belt you right here in the parking lot," Dad said quietly through clenched teeth as they approached his truck.
Adam swallowed nervously.
Dad led him around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door.
"In." he said firmly.
Adam obediently climbed into the cab, wishing there was some excuse he could come up with that would calm Dad down and save his ass.
Dad slammed the truck door and Adam watched in the mirror as he walked around to the driver's side, taking pains to walk slowly and calmly.
As he climbed into the truck and shut to door Adam thought maybe now was a good time to make his case.
"Dad… I..." he started.
"Not a word boy. Not a word," he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he started the truck with a rumble.
Adam watched his father covertly as they drove down the slushy streets back toward their motel of the week. It was hard to tell just how mad Dad was. He was stone cold sober, so that was a good thing Adam guessed, but he was also doing that thing where he clenched and unclenched his fists as he drove and Adam knew from experience that was a bad sign.
Suddenly Dad pulled off the road, down to a side street and into an empty gravel lot in front of an abandoned barn.
Oh shit.
Dad turned the truck off and Adam chewed his bottom lip as his stomach rolled. Shit, he was seriously in for it.
"Alright," Dad said, trying to control the anger in his voice, "Let's hear it."
Adam's mouth suddenly went dry and he forgot how to speak. Why did he always freak out like this when he got put on the spot?
"I… uh… I uh…"
"Adam." Dad said darkly, making it clear that Adam better figure out how to talk again and do it soon.
"Ok, uh… it was..."
Crap. He hadn't really thought about having to explain this to Dad. What the fuck was he gonna say? All that time sitting in a cell and yet figuring out what to tell Dad never even occurred to him. Dean was right he was a dumbass.
He didn't wanna tell Dad the truth, that would just get Dean in trouble. As much as Dean probably deserved the kick in the ass, Adam didn't wanna be the one to throw him under the bus.
Sam would never do that.
"It was a dare," Adam spit out finally, looking down into the floorboard as the lie tumbled out of his mouth.
Adam hoped his own poker face was as good as his father's because if Dad were to find out he got arrested and then lied to him about the reason, Adam wouldn't be able to sit for a month.
"A dare?" Dad asked infuriated, "A fucking dare?"
Adam licked his lips in trepidation and continued to stare at the floor, waiting for the storm of Dad's rage to blow over.
"Do you know what you just did?" he asked, "You know our rules about keeping a low profile. What the hell did you think you were doing?"
"Well I didn't think I'd get caught," Adam mumbled to the floor.
"No shit," Dad snapped. "Adam, how could you be so stupid? I know you aren't this stupid son, so why would you put yourself in that situation? You know what the risks are!"
Adam just shrugged. He didn't wanna hear Dad lecture him anymore. He just wanted to get on with the punishment and get it over with.
Part of Adam really wanted to tell Dad the truth, to admit that he was just so hungry. Hungry enough that it seemed worth the risk. That he couldn't think of a better, safer option and that he was past the point of being able to wait for a better choice. The thought of the unfairness of the whole situation made Adam mad, furious even.
"If you're gonna belt me, can we just get it over with?" Adam sneered, crossing his arms defiantly.
Dad looked briefly taken aback by Adam's surly attitude, but quickly recovered.
"Yeah we can." he said threateningly, "I was gonna let you wait until we were back at the motel so we didn't both freeze our asses off, but since you've decided you're so eager I figure hell, why not here and there?"
Adam breath caught and he looked at his father in shock. Two? Two whippings?
Dad opened his truck door, "Get out,"
Adam watched as Dad slid out of the truck and stood in the open door, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops.
"Now Adam," he said menacingly.
Adam's entire body was clenched tightly in dread and he had to force himself to comply with his father's orders. With weak knees, he opened the door and walked around to the back of the truck, where Dad was putting down the tailgate.
"You should know I had to leave the hunt early for this," he said, letting the tailgate slam down with a heavy thud, "Your mistake isn't just costing you, Adam."
Oh fuck.
No wonder Dad was so pissed. It was one thing for Adam to be stupid, but it was an entirely different thing for people's lives to be at risk because of his stupidity.
"Turn around," Dad said, nodding to the lowered tailgate as he folded over the belt in his hands, "Don't move,"
Adam felt sobs rising in his chest. Fear, dread, embarrassment, guilt. Damn this whole day. With his hands firmly pressed into the frozen tailgate, Adam tried to still his shaking legs as he waited for the first strike. 14, he reminded himself. 14.
The cracking sound of leather was deafening against the cold still of winter and the lash pushed a silent gasp from Adam's throat. He wasn't gonna cry. He wasn't. He was gonna be tough and silent, just like Sam. If Sam could lie and take beatings, so could Adam. He could. He would.
There was a long pause and Adam closed his eyes waiting on the next hit. Dad was gonna draw this one out. He was gonna take his time, let them freeze to death out here in the icy January winter of New Jersey, while Adam got to think about what he did between each bite of the belt.
Just before Adam could huff in annoyance the next hit came, landing solidly and pushing him into the truck. Another was right behind it and Adam scrunched his eyes shut against the white-hot blooming pain.
There was silence again, only the sounds of Adam's ragged breathing between them. Adam could feel his father's presence behind him, standing like a stone, fury radiating off him.
Adam didn't move, only licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek, hating the anticipation of pain.
Finally, the belt came down again, three strokes in a row this time, evenly spaced across his backside and leaving Adam silently screaming into the winter air. Dad stopped again, letting Adam get his breath. Tears were pricking the corners of his eyes and Adam wondered how he was ever gonna get through another whipping back at the motel.
The next four lashes where again evenly spaced and landed soundly. Dad wasn't playing around. Holding in his tears and trying to breathe through strangled breaths Adam laid his forehead down onto the cold tailgate of the truck. He wasn't gonna make it. He wasn't gonna be able to be strong like Sam.
Two more strikes and Adam's tears flowed, falling hotly from his eyes and landing gently against the icy black tailgate.
Another heavy hit and Adam cried out in pain, hating himself for his weakness.
"Please Dad!" he begged, just as the next lash came down hard against him.
Dad was silent behind him, but Adam could still feel the anger radiating from him.
"Stand up Adam," he said, "We're done for now,"
Adam cried harder at his words, snot filling his nose and dread rushing through his veins.
"Stand up Adam," Dad commanded again, his voice firm but calm.
Adam turned his puffy, snot covered face into the tailgate for just a moment more, relishing in the cold steel, before pushing his hands against it to stand up.
"Get in the truck," Dad ordered, as he threaded his belt back through the loops of his jeans.
Adam swallowed and obeyed, pushing away from the truck, walking on shaky weak legs back to the driver's side. This wasn't the first time he'd been laid out against the tailgate of the truck, but somehow it seemed to get worse each time.
Still sobbing and hiccupping, Adam opened the door and hesitated. He did not want to sit. He didn't want to sit down ever again in fact. And shit, after tonight at the motel, he might never be able to.
Adam heard Dad's door open across the cab and he whimpered, knowing that he had to get in and sit down or else face his father's wrath again for disobedience.
Swallowing hard, Adam made himself put one leg into the cab and quickly sat down on the bench seat, moaning as the aching throb transformed once more into a piercing pain.
Dad was silent as he got into the cab and didn't acknowledge Adam's quiet crying.
Adam didn't look at him either. He didn't want to. Dad was still mad. Mad enough that Adam was gonna get another round when they got back to the motel.
"You wanna tell me where your brother is in all this?" Dad asked once they had pulled back into the main road.
Adam was quiet. He was tempted to say "No sir," but that was more disrespect then he was willing to risk at this point.
"Adam?" Dad asked again, his tone telling Adam he better answer with something.
But what the hell was Adam gonna say? There wasn't any excuse as to why Dean hadn't already come to pick Adam up from the police station. Surely Officer Reynolds had told Dad how many times they'd called his brother. Maybe Dad was thinking the worst: that something had happened to Dean. As far as Dad knew that would be the only reason his first-born would ever shirk his responsibility to his brother.
"I don't know sir," Adam said, his voice still thick with tears, "He was around Saturday before I went out,"
Adam prayed the vague answer would be enough for his father and that he wouldn't be pushed further on the subject, he honestly didn't think he could come up with a good lie right now.
Dad scowled and pushed down the accelerator, picking up speed along the back road.
-/-/-/-/-/
By the time they reached the motel, Adam had regained control of himself, although both his head and his backside hurt like a bitch.
As they pulled toward the parking lot Adam could clearly see Dean's beloved Impala sitting parked in front of their motel room and he glanced across the cab to see confusion growing on his father's face. Dad whipped the truck into the parking spot beside the Impala and jumped out, slamming the door and hurrying toward the room not waiting for Adam to follow.
Adam was in no rush to walk into that room, knowing exactly what his father was likely to find. He watched from the cab of the truck as Dad fumbled for his key as he walked and in one swift movement unlocked the door and pushed it opened hard enough that it bounced off the wall behind it.
"Dean!" Dad called out, rushing into the room.
As much as Adam wasn't looking forward to whatever turmoil was going on in that room he figured he better man up and go in. With a deep breath of preparation, he opened the truck door and gently jumped out down, wincing with every step as he walked toward the open motel room door.
Adam peered into the room before entering, catching sight of a scene that in any other situation would have caused him to laugh his ass off.
The fuzzy motel television was blaring the Golden Girls theme and Dean was passed out on one of the motel beds, slumped against the flimsy fake wooden headboard, surrounded by empty beer cans, drooling and snoring, his jeans unbuttoned and his flannel shirt haphazardly thrown on, as if he'd gone to take a piss and hadn't bothered to readjust himself.
"Dean! Dean!" Dad said, shaking him.
"Huh? Dean mumbled roughly, waking up in confusion.
"Son?" Dad asked, seemingly unable to comprehend the scene in front of him.
"Dad? What? What 'shew doing here?" Dean mumbled and Adam cringed at his slurred speech.
Adam finally slid into the room, gently closing the door behind him hoping not to attract any attention.
"What the hell?" Dad whispered, grabbing Dean's upper arm and pulling him up to sit against the headboard as he glanced around at the assortment of empty beer cans littering the bed.
"How fucking drunk are you boy?" Dad growled, glaring down at Dean.
Dean coughed self-consciously; roughly running his hand over his face in a move Adam knew was his way of trying to immediately sober up.
"I'm not drunk," he said, squeezing his eyes closed tightly, trying to make the room stop spinning.
"Goddamnit boy," Dad said lowly.
"Whut's going on?" Dean asked, his speech still garbled despite his best efforts.
"What's going on is that I just picked up your little brother from the police station!"
"Sam?" Dean asked automatically, and words were like knives through Adam's chest.
"Adam." Dad ground out. "Did you not get any of the calls?"
"Uh…." Dean stuttered, feeling around on the bed for his phone, shoving away empty cans, making others fall on to the floor.
"Goddammit," Dad said again and Adam could feel his rage brewing.
Dad sneered at Dean and stepped back, assessing the disarray of the motel room.
"What the fuck is this?" he snarled, waving his arm around the disheveled motel room.
Adam bit his lip as he followed his father's eyes around the room. Yeah, it was a disaster: both beds unmade, towels hanging off doorknobs, clothes spilling out of drawers, trash all over the floor, dirty clothing laying around carelessly and empty beer cans littering the table between the beds as well as the entire bed Dean was sitting on. Dad never let them live like this. He was military in all things, including bed making and personal hygiene. Everything has a place and everything in its place, he always said. Even when Adam first came to live when them and thought nothing of throwing his shoes wherever in the motel room, he was quickly corrected. Dad never made them 'clean' the motel rooms or anything like that, but they were always expected to keep track of all their crap and keep the room picked up and the beds made. Somewhere along the line after Sam left though, Adam and Dean both stopped caring about Dad's motel room rules while he was gone and mutually agreed to ignore their mess and only do a quick and dirty purge right before Dad returned.
"Is this what happens when I leave?" Dad yelled at Dean.
"Not all the time…" Adam said quietly, immediately wishing he hadn't when Dad's fury turned on him.
"You want that second whipping now?" Dad spat out, pointing at Adam.
Adam shook his head in wide-eyed fear.
"Dad…" Dean said, quickly sobering and realizing the severity of the situation, "Look, this…"
"Goddammit Dean!" Dad yelled, beginning to pace the room, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Dean froze on the bed at their father's words, guilt and shame flooding his reddening face.
"I trusted you Dean!" Dad said, not looking at his oldest son as he paced the room, kicking at trash and discarded clothing on the floor, "You are supposed to be responsible! Supposed to be the one I can count on!"
"I am, sir," Dean mumbled brokenly, sitting up fully and swinging his legs to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched in guilt.
"Oh, you are?" Dad asked suddenly, spinning back toward Dean and stalking toward him, "You are? Then why don't you tell me how many missed calls are on your cell phone? Why don't you tell me what the hell you were doing while your brother was out, alone, getting arrested?"
Dean didn't look up from the floor, only squeezed his eyes shut at the pain of his father's accusing words.
Dad stared at him a moment, eyes narrowing in anger. Adam's pulse began to climb in fear of what their father might do. Was he gonna punch Dean? Throw him down on the bed and beat him? Whatever it was, Adam feared that Dean would willingly allow it, all in hopes that he would be able to look his father in the eye again.
"Keys." Dad said, leaning into Dean.
Adam felt Dean's pause of surprise, but instantly his brother's hand was in his pocket digging out the car keys and handing them over to their father.
"Adam," Dad said, turning slightly and tossing the keys.
Despite his surprise, Adam stepped forward and caught the keys gently as if he'd been expecting the move.
"Both of you pack your shit. We hit the road in 10 minutes." Dad growled toward Dean.
Dad looked away from Dean for a moment to glance at Adam to make sure his order was understood, then stomped toward the door, making Adam freeze in fear as he walked past.
As the motel door closed with a slam Adam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Both brothers were silent and didn't move until Adam awkwardly cleared his throat, earning a heated glare from Dean.
Adam sneered back in return and moved to start to gather up his clothing.
"You got arrested?" Dean asked, still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
"Yeah…" Adam replied, not looking at his brother as he grabbed his jeans and shoes from under the other bed.
"You hurt?" Dean asked from behind him.
Adam paused for a moment thinking about the dull ache of his backside but didn't turn around.
"No."
"Good."
They were both silent as they packed their bags, finishing and coming to stand out in front of the two Winchester vehicles within the ten minutes their father demanded.
"Adam," Dad said, walking up from the back of the truck where he'd most likely been leaning on the tailgate trying to control his temper, "You'll drive the Impala. Keep it under the speed limit and don't tailgate my ass when you follow alright?'
Adam nodded in return, wishing he felt the excitement he'd normally feel about the opportunity to drive the Impala. Dean had taught him to drive on the car when he was 12, but much to his disappointment the entire family seemed to have agreed that Adam's driving should be reserved for emergency situations only. Despite numerous arguments on cross-country drives, Adam had only been allowed to drive the beauty a handful of times and only then under strict supervision, with Dean hovering over him the entire time telling him not to ride the brakes.
"Dean," Dad said lowly, causing both Adam and Dean to look up him.
"If I thought it would do any good I'd belt your ass before we leave and let you ride on it for 8 or 10 hours, but seeing as you're still piss ass drunk, it'll have to wait. And as much as I want to have you ride with me, so I can hear the full story of what the hell has been going on, I don't want Adam alone. Although I'm not even sure you're useful at this point,"
Adam watched Dad's unnecessarily cruel words hit Dean like a punch and his brother winced.
Dad gave Dean another angry, disappointed glare before turning to Adam, "Keep it between the ditches boy," he said.
"Yes sir," Adam replied with a nod.
Dad turned on his heels and Dean and Adam moved as well, trying to ignore the strangeness of Adam walking around to the driver's side and sliding in behind the wheel as Dean sat shotgun.
"So…uh…driver picks the music right?" Adam asked casually, trying to lighten the mood.
Dean just stared back at him from across the car, doing a perfect impression of Sam's 'bitch face' as he himself had so eloquently nicknamed.
"Yeah…ok…" Adam said, turning the key and momentarily relishing in the hearty rumble of the Impala's engine.
Adam spared another glance at his older brother before putting the car into reverse, hoping to see Dean blatantly judging his every movement as he drove, but instead, Dean had slumped down into the seat and was leaning against the door, looking despondently out the window.
Jeez, and he teased Sammy about being grumpy.
Adam bit back a sigh as he shifted gears and focused on following the taillights of Dad's truck. He tried not to worry about Dean; his brother would bounce back from this (right? He would right?) and anyway, Adam had his own eight to ten hours of driving on a sore ass to look forward to, not to mention praying that Dad wouldn't collect on his earlier threat of a second punishment.
More fun times with the Winchesters, Adam thought sourly to himself.
/-/-/-/-/-/
They didn't speak as they drove, each silently staring at the winding back roads Dad chose to take them on, knowing that the faster highways and interstates would be too dangerous for Adam to drive on, a risk they couldn't take when they were already fleeing from local police.
Dean was sitting shotgun. Freaking shotgun. Forced to watch as his baby brother drove his beautiful baby of a car, riding the brakes the entire time. Dean shook his head. He deserved it. Hell, he deserved a lot more than this particular form of torture. Shit, he half wished Dad would have belted him in the parking lot before they hit the road. It'd be embarrassing and painful as hell sure, but it might have gone a little ways toward making him feel better.
He sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window, closing his eyes momentarily. He wanted to go to sleep so badly. He also wanted to throw up, but he wasn't gonna let himself do that either. He'd made this mess, goddammit and he was gonna suffer through it.
God, he was an asshole. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd fucked up his relationship with Sam over the whole leaving for college thing, he was well on his way to fucking up things with Adam too.
He knew he'd been doing it too, which was the worst part. He could see himself prodding at Adam, teasing him with direct and vicious jabs, egging him on to fight for any stupid reason. It wasn't hard to get the kid started either. He had enough Winchester in him that it only took a few well-placed taunts and the kid was off and swinging the hard right hooks that Dean had taught him. He knew it wasn't fair of him to keep riling Adam up, but all the hurt, confusion and pain had left him spinning and filled with a bubbling fury he didn't really understand. He needed to go and hunt, gank some ghost assholes or something…kill something, but of course, he was still supposed to be taking care of the kid.
Fucking great job he was doing at that.
The rage and misery that was simmering in him most of the time these days was part of the reason he'd started with the six packs. He needed to mellow out. He didn't drink the hard stuff like Dad did. He didn't wanna start down that road. But he needed to chill the hell out or he was gonna knock Adam's freaking teeth out the next time the kid mouthed off at him.
Dean clenched his fists as a wave of nausea rolled through him as Adam slowed around a wide curve in the road.
He sighed as it passed, swallowing the saliva that had developed in his mouth. Stealing a glance across the smooth leather seats, Dean studied his youngest brother.
Adam was suffering too, he realized looking at the kid. Not as deeply maybe, and not in the same way, Dean rationalized, but he sure as hell was suffering. The kid was pale, eyes a little too sunken and freckles standing out across his nose. Shit, he was too skinny.
Fuck, Dean thought to himself with a sudden awareness…
No.
"Did you get arrested for stealing food?" he asked accusingly, unable to keep the anger and irritation from his voice.
Adam glared at him for only a second before looking back to the road, "What do you care?" he mumbled.
Dean cursed himself. What kinda fucking brother doesn't know his little brother is stealing food? What kinda fucking situation had he gotten them in? He distantly remembered Adam asking a long time ago about taking peanut butter or something from a little mom and pop market, but Dean had told him how stupid it was. He knew first hand how close those owners watched their shelves and how easy it was to get caught.
Dean tried to remember the last time he'd brought back dinner or groceries for them.
He remembered grabbing the six packs….
He must have gotten some other stuff too right?
Right?
He didn't just leave Adam with nothing.
No.
Wait.
Fuck, did he?
Fuck.
Had Dean really been so caught up in his personal misery that he didn't bring home food for Adam? Dean wracked his brain to think of the last time he brought back meals for them and he realized it had been since before Dad left. He held it together while Dad was around, but the minute Dad hit the road for the hunt all Dean had been able to think about was getting away and getting a break. He hit the bars, hit up the ladies and just tried to get out of his head for a little while. He hadn't even really thought about what Adam was doing. Its not like he was gone that long though, one night or two maybe…
But that was just this time, he reminded himself.
Dean kicked himself again. He'd been hiding in bars and six packs on and off for months now. He couldn't let Dad see what a mess he was. He needed to be strong. But he also needed to get away.
So how long had Adam been doing this? Weeks? Months?
Had Dean really failed his brother so badly?
Another glance into Adam's miserable, young face gave Dean every answer he needed. He had failed Adam. Just like he'd failed Sam. He was a useless, worthless excuse for a brother.
"Kid…" Dean started softly, trying to find the words to start asking for the forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve.
"Don't yell at me Dean!" Adam shot back, anticipating the fight that Dean would have normally been searching for, "I've got enough to deal with. I don't need your shit too!"
The anger that Dean would have ordinarily felt rise up at Adam's belligerent tone was gone, replaced by a deep self-disgust that caused Dean to physically recoil from his little brother's words.
There was nothing he could say, nothing that would even begin to apologize for the damage that Dean had inflicted on his brother over the past few months. Sorry would never be enough. Outside of a few weeks of relative normalcy, Dean had not only abandoned his brother, but also neglected his basic needs, forcing Adam into doing things that Dean had always cautioned against. And all that blame landed directly at Dean's feet.
If he'd been paying attention, taking care of his brother the way he was supposed to, the way he knew how to, Adam would have never been arrested, never been out stealing food or doing God knows what else to fend off hunger.
Fuck, Dean thought as panic choked him, please let it only be stealing.
He wanted to ask. To make sure Adam was ok. Make sure that he wasn't damaged beyond repair due to Dean's selfishness and carelessness, but his mouth was dry. Just like the apologies twisting around in his throat, the questions stole his breath and the fear silenced him.
Dean stared into the Impala's glossy side mirror and took in his own miserable reflection: sallow skin, scraggly beard coming in, red and unfocused eyes, he didn't look a hell of a lot better than Adam did.
Sam would hate this.
The thought shocked Dean. He tried not to think of Sam in that way, that 'what-he-would-have-wanted-dead-guy' kinda way. It was just wrong. Sam wasn't dead. He was just gone.
Gone. Not part of the family. Not safe. But not dead at least.
Dean huffed quietly, forcing himself to stop thinking about Sam. Sam was gone. Adam was here. And Dean needed to get it together.
He was better when he was looking out for someone anyway, he figured. That's who he was. Big brother. That's who he was gonna be again, he vowed. Adam deserved to have the same great big brother that Sam got. The guy that went to bat for him against Dad, that took his side, took care of him and taught him everything he knew.
With any luck, Adam wouldn't abandon everything Dean gave him in favor of some stupid fucking apple pie life.
Adam was a different kid, Dean reminded himself. Adam had seen the true depth of evil and lost painfully to it in the same way that Dean had. Sam had lost as well, of course, but not in the same visceral way that both Dean and Adam had. Something like that changes a person.
Anyway, Dean thought shaking his head gently then regretting the move when it sent another lingering wave of nausea through him, he was gonna do better and be better. Adam was gonna get more than a drunk ass for a brother, that was for damn sure. Starting with Dean not commenting on how freaking much this kid was killing the brakes on his baby….
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A/N- Sorry to everyone who got the update alert but didn't actually get the chapter! I hope everything is fixed now! :)