Chapter Ten

"Are we there yet?"

"No, Adam."

"Well, are we there now?"

"No, Adam."

Sigh. "What about now?"

"I swear to God, kid, I'm going to feed you to the next Wendigo we meet," threatened Dean, feeling his blood pressure rise. His newfound patience with Adam was waning rapidly, mainly due to the billions of times Adam had asked "Are we there yet?" An eight-year-old Sam had been easier to deal with than the brat in the backseat.

"Are we there yet?"

"Oh my God," groaned Dean. "Remind me why I haven't killed you yet."

"Because then, Sam would kill you," replied Adam, grinning.

The middle Winchester had given up on his sanity a long time ago – he was now reading and doing a supremely wonderful task of ignoring his brothers.

"Nah, he won't," contradicted Dean. "He'd thank me."

Adam scoffed. "Oh please."

"Deer," said Sam tonelessly, and Dean swerved to avoid the animal in the middle of the road.

"Thank you, Sammy. Now, as I was saying – Adam, shut up."

"You shut up."

"No, you shut up."

Sam huffed angrily, but was ignored.

"I just don't understand how Sam puts up with you," Adam was saying.

"Yeah well, you're a greater pain in the ass," Dean retorted.

"Nah, I'm adorable," Adam informed him. "See?" He pulled a puppy face with remarkable skill – however, compared to Sam's it was still weak, and so Dean had no problem resisting it.

"Ain't gonna work," he crowed, and Adam looked disappointed.

"It's all right," Sam finally spoke. "I'll teach you." Adam's pout became a grin, and he held his palm out for a high-five.

"Whose side are you on?" complained Dean, hitting Sam upside the head.

"Come on, it's a useful skill," Sam said, face straight. "He needs to learn it."

"Yeah, Dean," Adam piped up. "Might save my life one day."

It was Dean's turn to scoff. "Yeah, right."

"Deer," Sam said again, and Dean missed it by a hair.

"Thank you, Sammy."

"Keep your eyes on the road, Dean. You're going to kill us all," Sam replied.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Sam."

"Are we there yet?"

Dean could hear his blood pounding in his ears. "All right, that's it. Sam, I don't care what you say, I'm killing him right the fuck now."

"No you're not, Dean," Sam said with a sigh, and then pulled off the You-Irritate-Me-So-Damned-Much-Sometimes bitchface.

"How come you never make one of those faces at Adam?" asked Dean, his tone dangerously close to whining.

"He adores me, 'cause I'm adorable," Adam said. He'd finished his magazine long ago, and was back to being bored out of his wits.

"I'm so much more better-looking," Dean informed Adam. "The ladies love me."

"Sam doesn't count," Adam retorted.

Sam turned to glare at Adam, his patience wearing thin. Dean was bad enough, but having to deal with a 23-year-old who happened to just as immature was extremely hard work. He wasn't sure his nerves could handle the stress. He now knew what drove some people to fratricide.

"I think we should stop at a motel," Dean suggested suddenly.

That snapped Sam out of his murderous thoughts. "Why?" he asked, surprised. They'd only checked out from the previous one that morning, and it was only a little after noon right now.

"I feel tired," Dean admitted. The stress of the last few days was finally catching up, and he was starting to think that they all should have rested for a few days before setting out for California. The drive was long, and some rest would have done them good.

"Let me drive," said Adam at once.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him through the rearview mirror. "Aw hell no," he said. "I'm not letting you drive my baby."

"I could drive," Sam offered.

Again Dean refused. "You still need to rest, Sam. I don't want anything to slow down your recovery."

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam began.

"Oh please," said Adam. "Your definition of 'fine' is complete shit."

"Yeah, remember that time you were twelve and broke your arm, and you told me you were fine?" joined in Dean. "Or that time when you were seventeen and you had a knife sticking out of your side, and you said you were fine?"

"Why did he have a knife sticking out of his side at age seventeen?" inquired Adam.

"Hunt gone bad," Dean answered shortly.

"You started hunting that early?" Adam looked astonished.

"Well, earlier," Dean said. "Why, what did you think?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know, I just never figured you started off that young."

"Dad thought it was best we knew how, you know?" Sam said. "He figured at least we'd be able to defend ourselves."

"That's crap," declared Adam, and both Sam and Dean frowned at him. "You don't shove your kids into that life so soon. You just don't."

"What would you know?" asked Dean curtly. "You had no idea this sort of shit even existed."

"Yeah, until I got eaten," Adam said, his tone matching Dean's. "Wasn't fun, by the way."

"Yeah, we know," Sam said hastily, hoping to prevent any arguments. "See, Adam, thing is – Dad did the best he could. Sometimes it wasn't enough... but he tried. We've got to give him credit for that."

"You give him all the credit you want," Adam said, crossing his arms. "I barely knew him."

"And trust me, it was better that you didn't," said Dean, his tone conclusive. "Or you'd have grown up a hunter too."

Adam didn't answer, and the conversation stopped. Sam went back to his book, and Adam looked outside at the Utah desert for a while before picking up his car magazine for a second read.

It was half an hour before they came to a town, and Dean stopped at the first motel with vacancies. He checked them in, and then drove up to the room. "All right, why don't you and Small Fry get settled in," he said to Sam, "and I'll get lunch?"

Sam nodded. "Okay. Come on, Adam."

They retrieved their bags from the trunk, and Dean handed Sam the key card. "Get me a salad," Sam said, just before Dean began driving away.

"Yeah I know, Frances," Dean replied with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes at the back bumper of the car, but he was pretty sure Dean saw it through the rearview mirror, if Dean's little hand wave was anything to go by. He huffed to himself and unlocked the motel room, letting Adam get in first.

This one wasn't all bad either – clean and tidy, and large enough to accommodate the three of them. There was even a sofa, which was good news because it meant that Sam wouldn't have to put up with Dean's kicking at least for that night.

Adam set his bag down on one of the beds and then looked around, grinning when he saw the TV in a corner. "Sweet," he declared. "Think anything good's on?"

"You can check," said Sam, setting his bag at the foot of the other bed and sitting on it. He took off his shoes and socks, watching as Adam flipped through channels before finally settling on an old Justice League rerun. "It's good," he stated defensively when he noticed Sam's smile.

"I never said it wasn't," answered Sam, swinging his legs onto the bed and settling with his back against the headboard.

But the cartoon ended soon enough, and there was a silence during which Adam went through other channels and Sam continued reading his paperback. Then Adam asked, "So what's it like, being a hunter?"

Sam put his book down. "Well, it's not easy," he started. "You've got to be alert all the time, you've got to make sure you're always protected–" He gestured towards the doors and windows he'd salted while Adam watched Justice League. "And you've got to be ready to make sacrifices, you know. You've got to realize that you may also die."

Adam considered it for a second, and then asked, "And what if you don't die?"

"You keep hunting," Sam said simply. "You never stop being a hunter, Adam. I've tried so many times. It doesn't work. You can leave the life but the life won't leave you."

"That really sucks," Adam said, looking sympathetic. "But what about when you close the Gates of Hell?"

"Well, it'll get rid of the demons," Sam told him, "but there are other things out there, too. Angry spirits pop up all the time. Then there's Wendigos, shapeshifters, skinwalkers, vamps, werewolves, the occasional Djinn... there's always going to be jobs."

There was a short period of silence, during which Adam stared at his hands while Sam waited for him to speak. Finally the boy said, his tone troubled, "But, Sam, I don't understand – how can anyone choose this life willingly?"

"Very few people do," Sam said. "Most people, like Dad, only begin hunting after losing someone to a monster. Others accidentally find out about it and decide to hunt. Some do it for the thrill."

"But it's so lonely," Adam said. "You can't have a family, there's no place you can call home, you're always on the road... how do you not go insane?"

"You find yourself a rock," Sam told him, after giving it some thought. "And you hang on. One day at a time."

Adam looked sad. "So that's how we're always going to live?"

Sam shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Yeah..." Adam agreed. "Who knows." But he still looked sad.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, not missing the way his shoulders hunched, or how his previous good mood had completely vanished.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine," Adam answered, waving off the concern. "Just that when Dean said you two started early it got me thinking, so I figured I'd ask."

"Right, well," Sam said, "it's all right, you know. It doesn't have to be that bad."

"Of course it doesn't," Adam said with a small smile, "We're going to Disneyland, aren't we?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah. And not just that, Adam – when you've got someone to hang on to... it makes it a lot better."

Adam nodded, his expression thoughtful. "So that's what we do, huh?" he said after a while. "We hang on."

"We hang on," confirmed Sam.

Adam fell asleep some time after that conversation, lying spread-eagled on the other bed. Sam covered him with a blanket before going back to his bed and picking up his paperback once again. He'd wanted to bring some research books along but Dean had put his foot down on the matter with a firm "No", and it had taken some more time to get Dean to agree to a paperback.

His cell phone rang suddenly, startling him. He fumbled around in his jacket pockets before finding it and answering. "Hello?"

"Sam, I need to know where you are," Cas replied urgently. "I'm under attack. I can't hold them off any longer."

"Hold who off?" questioned Sam, sitting up straight.

"Angels, Sam! Tell me where you are!" Behind Cas, Sam could hear shouting and someone saying something that sounded suspiciously like Enochian swear words.

Sam told him where they were. He'd barely finished when a banging started at the door. He scrambled off the bed and opened the door, only to have Castiel collapse in his arms. "Cas!" he said, alarmed and worried. Hurriedly he dragged Cas inside and shut and locked the door, checking the salt lines before yelling, "Adam, get up!"

"What is it?" asked Adam, waking.

"Cas is hurt," Sam told him. "I need your help."

The angel looked bad, and by bad what Sam really meant was terrible. There was blood running down one side of his face, and his clothes were dirty and stained with mud, more blood and some unidentifiable black substance. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and was swaying on his feet.

"There's a first aid kit in my bag," Sam told Adam, speaking quickly. Then he turned to Castiel and helped him sit down on his bed. "What happened, Cas?"

"They found me," Castiel told Sam. "Ambushed me. An entire battalion. I managed to kill a few–" He looked regretful even as he said it, like it sickened him. "But there were too many. I had to get away."

"How did they find you?" asked Sam, taking the first aid kit that Adam held out to him. The boy sat down next to Cas on the bed, looking worried.

"I don't know," Cas answered, wincing as Sam began cleaning the blood off his face with a clean rag. "Careful, Sam."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, going gentler with the scrubbing. "Do you think they can follow you here?"

"I hope not," replied Cas. "Where's Dean?"

"Out getting lunch," Adam told him. "Should I call him, ask him to get you something as well?"

"No, it's all right," Cas refused, holding up his hand. "I'll be leaving soon."

"What – why?" asked Sam, pausing in his ministrations. "Cas, you're safer with us, they'll find you–"

"But you're not safe as long as I'm with you," countered Castiel. "They're after the Tablet, they'll think I've hidden it with you."

Sam sighed in exasperation – he couldn't believe he'd once thought angels were nice people. Only one was, and he was sitting there in front of him, injured by his own kind. "And of course they won't see reason," he muttered.

"Of course," agreed Castiel.

"What does this Angel Tablet do?" asked Adam.

Castiel offered him a small smile. "Not telling," he said. "What do you think it does?"

"Locks you guys up?" guessed Adam.

"Yes," answered Castiel. "Which is why I've got to hide it. Even from you people."

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. Much as he would love to lock angels up forever, he knew it would also mean they'd never be able to see Castiel again. And that would hurt. Besides, Castiel would suffer up there, where there was probably a price on his head.

"Thank you, Sam," said Cas, once Sam finished cleaning the blood off his face.

"This is going to need stitches," Sam told him in reply, examining the gash that was now visible.

Cas made a face. "Do what you have to."

"This must really suck for you," commented Adam. "Not being able to heal."

"It's not that bad," answered Castiel. "Sam is worth it."

Sam offered Castiel a small smile, which the angel returned. However, it soon turned into a wince as Sam began stitching the wound together. "This hurts," he informed Sam plaintively.

"Yeah, I know," Sam said. "Almost done, don't worry."

"Why would this make me worry?" asked Cas. "I trust you."

Sam finished cleaning the wound after stitching it up, and then said, "We've got clean clothes, why don't you shower?"

"There's no time," Castiel said, standing. "I've got to leave, Sam."

"Why?" asked Adam.

"It's not safe for you if I stay," Castiel explained. "They're after the Tablet, but they're not beyond taking a Winchester – or two – to try to get me to give it up."

"We can take them, Cas," Sam said. "It's not safe for you."

Castiel looked slightly annoyed. "Sam, I appreciate your concern. But you have to understand – I cannot stay. There are other things I have to do as well. And I cannot let them get to you."

He had no sooner finished than the door blew apart, flying off its hinges into the room. Immediately Sam was at Adam's side, shoving him behind him so that he would not be visible from the door. Castiel had his eyes on the door, his face paler than it had been.

A man who could only be an angel entered, an angel blade glinting in his hand. "Come, Castiel," he said. "We've won."

"No," refuted Castiel. He tried to attack, but two angels appeared at his elbows, restraining him.

"Let him go!" Sam said loudly, while quietly judging the distance between himself and his bag.

"Ah, Winchester," the angel said, noticing Sam. "Two birds with one stone," he added, his lip curling in glee.

"Screw yourself," Sam snapped.

Castiel was struggling against his captors, but in his weakened state he was no match for them. One of the angels touched two fingers to Castiel's temple, and immediately he slumped, unconscious.

Fighting his panic, Sam nudged Adam with his elbow and inclined his head a centimeter in the direction of his bag. "Hide," he whispered, barely moving his lips.

There was no answer, and when Sam turned around he saw why; Adam, having misinterpreted him, had ducked out from behind him and made a dash for his bag. Before anyone could stop him there was a dead angel on the floor and an angel blade in Adam's hand.

The angel who'd broken down their door did not look amused. "That was one of my best soldiers," he hissed at Adam. "You will pay."

"Why don't you come here and make me," the boy challenged, holding out his angel blade.

Castiel's remaining captor asked his boss, "Shall I go?"

"Oh no you don't," Sam gasped out, lunging for him, but he had already vanished, leaving Sam and Adam with his boss. "No – Cas!"

"Your friend is gone," the remaining angel informed him. "He is going to pay the price for his actions. Now tell me – what have you done with the Tablet?"

"We don't have it," Sam answered, taking the angel blade from Adam and shoving the boy behind him once more. "Who are you?"

"Who I am is not your concern," replied the angel. "Who's your companion?"

"Go screw yourself," Adam spat from behind Sam.

"Adam, shut up," Sam hissed at him.

Recognition showed on the angel's face. "Your brother," he observed. "Adam Winchester."

"Milligan," corrected Adam, sounding irritated.

"It is not important," said the angel. "We have Castiel. But the boy..." He seemed to be talking to himself, even as Sam watched warily. Where was Dean? If only Dean was here they could take down the angel and escape, get out of here before their location could be broadcasted on Angel Radio.

"All right," the angel said suddenly, and Sam turned his attention to him again. "Hand over the boy, Winchester, and you can live."

"The hell I will," Sam snarled, angry that he'd even suggested it. "You're not taking us alive."

The angel scoffed. "Please. I'm an angel."

Sam held up the angel blade. "Yeah. We kill angels."

"Because you are ungrateful maggots."

"Please don't start on that again," groaned Adam. "Like that last one wasn't bad enough."

The angel looked intrigued. "That last one? Who?"

Adam just glared in reply. "My patience is wearing thin," the angel said, turning towards Sam. "Give me the boy."

"No," Sam refused, his tone indicating just exactly what he thought of the offer.

"Fine," said the angel. "Have it so, then." And he snapped his fingers before Sam could react.

Immediately a blinding pain made itself known inside his skull, and he fell to his knees, dropping the angel blade. "SAM!" he heard Adam yell through the ringing in his ears. "Sam, are you okay?"

"No," gasped Sam. "Run, Adam!"

Adam looked panicked, but he was still there, why wasn't he running? He knelt down next to Sam, who was curled in on himself, hands clutching his head and pulling at his hair. "Dean," he breathed to Adam. "Run. Get Dean."

"I do not like this plan," the angel told them. In a flash he was at Adam's side. "Come, Winchester."

Adam didn't have time to correct him again – in a flurry of wings they were both gone.

The angel's departure broke the spell on Sam, and he jumped to his feet, cursing frantically. He found his cell phone where he'd left it, on his bed, and hit speed dial #1. "Dean!" he said as soon as his brother picked. "Angels, Dean – they got Adam and Cas – where are you?"

"What?" Dean sounded panicked. "Sam, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Sam said, his breathing still heavy. "Hurry up, Dean – Adam and Cas! The angels took them!"

"I'm on my way," Dean promised, and Sam heard the Impala's engine rev.

"Okay," he muttered, before hanging up and doing what he hated almost more than anything else – waiting.

Yeah ladies and gentlemen, Czar Remy the Supreme Awesomesauce is back with the action and the evil cliffhangers :D

...also I'm done with school. For, like, forever. It's such a strange feeling, it's like YAY NO MORE SCHOOL and then you're all OH SHIT NO NOT REAL LIFE I AM NOT READY FOR THIS

Just got to give my exams, and then I'm planning on doing an extra A-level and then off to university. Fuuuuuuuun.

Well at least you're all going to have an educated Czar. Always a bonus, innit.

I don't have much to say today, I feel incredibly tired, for some reason. I also managed to scald three fingers of my right hand with fucking boiling oil like wtf. Why. So yeah. Not only does my right hand hurt, it's also almost completely useless.

Today's question: What was the worst injury you've ever had?

In my case it's probably the time I managed to rip open my upper arms as a kid... or the time I fell and hit my head... or the time I fell off my bike and looked like I'd lost a fight with a tree...

Yeah shit happens to me xD my friends call me a walking talking accident waiting to happen... if it exists I'll crash into it.

*sigh* what is my life.

Anyway, review, peasants, it'll ease my dark, black melancholy moods or whatever they call it these days...

-Peace x