Two bottles of beer on the wall

Summary: John takes Adam out for his first beer. References a couple of previous one-shots from this collection but can be read alone.

AN: Sorry about the delay posting this. It's hard writing one of these every day! *exhausted* I shoulda planned ahead. *starts writing last story*

Title from Latin for "Bastard Son Beer," translated literally. Latin because of the significance it has in John's job. Also because "Another First Beer" sounded lame and using Latin makes me sound smart.

Filius Nullius Cervisia

John Winchester stops by a few days after Adam's sixteenth birthday.

"Let me take the boy out for a spin," he tells Mom before they go.

John's visits have always been sporadic—his job takes him all over the country, and leaves him with little time (almost none) to stay with Adam and his mom. Not that Mom would let him stay anyway—there was a reason she didn't call him when she found out she was expecting his kid. For one, she hardly knew the guy, and a brief Florence Nightingale-inspired romance doesn't really count.

Ever since Adam first begged his absent father's phone number out of his mom and called the guy, to let him know he had a son out there, and maybe to try to get to know him, John's shown up maybe a handful of times: around his birthday every year, a Thanksgiving here, a Christmas there.

He took Adam out to a few baseball games.

"Guy stuff. Normal dad-and-son stuff," John'd say.

Those trips to the stadium were fun. That is, they would have been absolutely amazing if Adam was a baseball kind of guy. Which he isn't—football's more his game—but that was okay. Adam had never done this kind of "guy stuff" with anyone before, since his mom had always been too busy to date properly (that's kind of how Adam came to be, actually).

He sure doesn't tell the man that he doesn't really care much for baseball.

John bought him a little souvenir bat, and a hat with a matching shirt, all with the team's logo on them. They chomped on stadium hot dogs slathered with ketchup and mustard and extra onions (the last of which earned Adam a strange look—maybe John didn't want him stinking up the Impala on the ride home) and slurped on large sodas and shared a box of Cracker Jacks for dessert. It was idyllic, for a guy who's never had a dad and always wanted one.

Then inevitably, the day would end and John would drive off in that huge car of his, leaving behind a hole that got deeper every time because of his brief presence. It's like that every time: John would come over unexpectedly, spend the day or the afternoon with him (sometimes Mom was there too, so they could really play "happy families"), then look at his watch and say he had to leave.

John stops by a few days after Adam's sixteenth birthday to take him for a ride in the big black Chevy.

Mom lets them go, and says she expects them back before she has to leave for work that night.

They drive along the long stretch of road leading out of the city and Adam wonders where they're going today. Maybe another baseball game? John doesn't tell him when Adam asks, just says, "What, you've never gone out just for a drive before?" and asks him about school.

Adam tells him about his plans for college (pre-med, then on to medical school, become a doctor, then earn a lot of money so Mom doesn't have to work so hard anymore). John's smile is small and wistful, which prompts Adam to ask if he went to college.

John shakes his head. "No, I'm just a mechanic. You'll be the second Winchester to go though." Then he gets this funny look like he's just swallowed down his trachea instead of his esophagus.

"You okay?" Adam asks.

John nods. "Oh yeah, fine." Sure he is. Adam doesn't know him even kind of well, but he can tell that much.

They drive for a while in silence, Adam watching the scenery outside his window. "Who was the first?" He's curious; he doesn't know a whole lot about his dad's side of the family since John's always been pretty tight-lipped about his life.

John lets up on the gas a little in surprise. "Uh," he stammers, "a brother. I had a brother went to college. Smart kid."

Oh, that's something new. "So I have an uncle?"

A droplet of sweat drips down John's neck. "He's dead. War." He spits it out like he really wants Adam to stop asking.

So he does.

Pretty soon after, John steers off the road and coasts to a stop. Adam gets kinda worried, 'cause, maybe it was something he said.

"Uh, John?"

"Get out." It's curt, an order.

Adam's really worried by this time, since they're in the middle of nowhere, and is he leaving him here? For real? How's he supposed to get back to Windom? Hitchhike? Or maybe Mom was right not to trust John too much and he was actually a serial killer or something. Maybe he was planning on killing him here. Maybe—

"Come on, kiddo. Daylight's a-wastin'." John's already outside the car and walking around back to the trunk.

Adam scrambles out and shuts the door carefully. He watches his father with wary eyes as the older man takes…two bottles out of an ice chest in the trunk.

Beer? Ooohhh. Awesome. The first beer is supposed to be some kind of father-son custom in normal nuclear families, isn't it?

John holds an amber-glass bottle out to him. "You ever had one before?" he asks, somewhat hesitantly. His voice is gruff though, so you can only barely tell that he's nervous.

Adam reaches out and takes it. "Um, no." He frowns down at the bottle in his hand. "Mom doesn't know about this, does she?"

Dark eyebrows arch upwards. "You gonna tell 'er? You don't have to drink it if you—"

"Dude," Adam cuts him off. "You're giving me beer. That automatically makes you awesome."

A grin spreads across John's face, reminding Adam of photographs he's seen of himself. He chuckles, low and deep, rumbling in his chest. "That's great. That's great," he says, hoisting himself up on the hood of the Impala as nimbly as if he isn't an over-fifty-years-old guy. After a moment, Adam scrambles up next to him and swings his gangly legs off of the side of the car.

They toast each other and drink up. It takes Adam a couple of tries to actually get the lid off of the damn thing, much to his dad's amusement, but he finally gets a mouthful of the stuff.

It takes all of his self-control not to spit it back out. Ugh, people actually like this shit? Tastes like ass. He swallows it down anyway, to save face, and when he looks back up at his father's face, the guy's laughing at him.

Adam takes another swig out of spite, while trying to keep the smile from his lips. Now this is fun. Then he takes another drink, and another, and pretty soon, the whole bottle's gone and the sun's starting to set.

John takes his empty bottle and chucks it with his into the back seat. "Come on, boy. We better get back to your mom or she'll knock the stuffing out of us."

Adam manages to make his wobbly-legged way to the passenger side and slides in, bumping his head against the roof on the way. "Owwww. I'm 'kay."

That earns another chuckle from his dad and they're off.

Oh, bad idea. Bad.

"Stop," Adam gags through his hand and gets the door open just as his lunch pours out onto the rolling asphalt under him.

"Jesus," John exclaims and maneuvers them onto the shoulder. "You alright, kid?" A warm hand settles on Adam's back and strokes soothing circles on it. "Okay, we'll just rest here awhile. Okay." The deep voice is gentle now, comforting. "Easy son, breathe through it."

Cold sweat beads Adam's face, drenching his back and chest. His hair's sticking to his face and the back of his neck. Okay, not so cool. Not cool. "'m okay." He garners enough strength and willpower to heave the door closed and leans limply against the cool window. "'kay."

"Good to go?"

Too tired from vomiting his guts out, Adam settles for, "Hmmm-mm?" to answer, hoping John gets the message.

"Okay then, let's go." The car shudders once and starts moving again. Adam knows John's trying to be as gentle as possible, but the car's old and it freaking shakes when it moves. He groans again and wraps his arms around his middle.

He's miserable. He's dying, he knows it.

Adam must have fallen asleep because he vaguely hears his dad saying, "Another lightweight. What am I gonna do with you, kid?" in a fond tone. When he wakes up, there's a warm weight on top of him and he's lying on the couch at home. Opening his eyes and sitting up makes the world spin, so he opts for lying back down and closing his peepers. Oh yeah, that's better. There's only that brass band playing in his head now, so if someone would kindly drop a water balloon on the trumpet players, that would be greatly appreciated.

Adam thinks he can hear Mom yelling at John in the kitchen for taking her son out and giving him beer, screaming at the man about corrupting her child, and how irresponsible he is for giving a sixteen-year-old alcohol. She says something about how John will never be able to buy her son's love by giving him things and taking him out once in a while like he does. It just doesn't work that way. Adam thinks he manages to mumble, "Lub ya alwaysh, Ma," but he can't be sure since he's pretty much gone by that time.

He opens his eyes again in time to see John leave. His dad's got a faint smile on his lips as he looks down at him, as if he's something between satisfied and proud of what he did, but there's a sad look in his eyes too. It's weird; it doesn't look a bit like Mom's "my baby's growing up" look, but maybe a lot more like uncertainty. Maybe he's suddenly thinks that Mom's right, and that letting Adam have that beer so young was a bad idea. Not that sixteen is actually all that young to drink, 'cause, you know, most kids at school have spilled a little rum or vodka here and there.

That's the last Adam ever sees of John Winchester. He stops coming by after that.

It's only after Adam dies a few years later, at the hands and teeth of a couple of revengeful ghouls, and is raised from the dead and kidnapped by three guys and a freaking angel, that he finds out why John had been so eager to be Ward Cleaver two or three times a year. He had other kids, who he'd raised to be demon hunters. According to them, well Sam mainly, he was a terrible dad, but honestly, who cares a crap because Adam would have taken anything to just have someone around.

That's what he says, but maybe he doesn't really mean it. John Winchester did drag him into this whole big mess. On the other hand, John Winchester did donate the sperm that half of Adam comes from. Strong point in his favor there.

Something cold touches his hand and he jumps a little.

"Sorry man," and damn it, but Sam, Adam's half-brother, looks so sincere that he's half-inclined to believe him. "Here's the beer you were going out for."

Adam takes the beer and pops the lid with an expert twist of his wrist. The round metal piece clatters onto the wooden table, like some kind of warped coin. Heads. "Alright," he says, slouching down and crossing one leg over the other, "I'll bite. What was Dad like with you guys?"

And Adam finally gets that look in John Winchester's eyes that day he gave him his first beer.

Regret.

It still doesn't mean anything though. Adam takes another furtive glance at the bolted door. He needs to think of a way to escape this house and ditch these guys, then goddamn save the world so he can hurry up and be with his mom.

Because she's his family.