The silence in the motel room was a tad on the awkward side, the blow-up from fifteen minutes ago still simmering within each Winchester's head. Thunder echoed overhead, accompanying the huffing and posturing in the room like irritated grumbling in the background.

Dean angrily shoved various articles of dirty clothing into a massive laundry bag, not even bothering to smell some of them, which was a testament to just how pissed off he was.

Adam glowered from the couch, pretending to flip through a book on Celtic lore, apparently unconcerned about possibly ripping the pages.

Sam…

Sam sat helplessly at the table, pretending to research on his laptop while monitoring the powderkegs smoldering in the room. Not for the first time, Sam truly identified with Dean's predicament when it was just them and Dad. He marveled at how Dean managed to keep sane when the fighting between him and their father ensued.

No matter what Sam said or did, the accusations of favoritism flew, hitting him between the eyes before he had a chance to deflect. As a matter of loyalty, Dean expected Sam to be on his side. As a newly minted older brother, Adam expected unconditional support and understanding. As a conflicted middleman, Sam drank.

A lot.

Dean shoved the last pair of questionable socks in the bag, roughly yanking the drawstring tight, wrapping it around his hand before hauling the whole damn thing onto his shoulder.

"Be back later," was all he said, before slamming the door behind him.

Sam ran a hand over his face, wondering if it'd be tacky to text Dean to bring back more beer when the laundry was finished.

From behind him, a muffled whump! followed by frustrated guttural noises signalled the first round, where Sam tried to placate each brother separately in the hope that they'd reconcile when back together. It had yet to happen.

"This isn't fair, Sam, and you know it!"

...And so it began.

Sam sighed, clicking his laptop shut and swiveling to face his younger brother. The total indignation on Adam's face was a painful reminder of his own bullheadedness as a teenager. "Look, try to see this from Dean's side. Being a hunter is - "

"What I want to do! I know it's dangerous. I'm not stupid - my mom is fucking dead, Sam. But I have to do something! I can't go back to school and pretend none of this ever happened! I'm supposed to, what, just...just go to math class and wonder if the teacher's a Goddamn ghoul waiting to get its revenge on a Winchester? Fuck that!"

Sam nodded, elbows on knees while his hands clasped and unclasped. This argument was old, and Adam's reasons were sound.

"But he won't even listen! It's not like I'm demanding an assault rifle! But I need to know how to protect myself, and what I'm protecting myself from, don't you think?" Adam plowed on. "This is crap, Sam, and you know it."

Why did they always interrupt themselves to ask whether he agreed? It wasn't like they listened to him anyway.

"You know what? If he won't let me help, then I'll find someone who will."

Whoa, there.

Sam sat up. "Hold on, Adam."

"Dude, I'm done holding on. Are you gonna help me or what?" If he were standing, Sam was sure Adam's hands would've been on his hips.

Sighing, Sam frantically thought up something to pacify his brother. He actually agreed with Adam, it's just that he saw Dean's side as well. He had just settled on something neutral, when the door unexpectedly opened, revealing a grumpy, damp Dean.

Everyone stared at each other until Dean pointed at the closet. "Forgot the soap."

Dean took all of two steps, and then the shit hit the fan.

"Sam's gonna teach me how to hunt."

Dean froze, hand outstretched. Sam froze, jaw on the floor. Adam froze, waiting for the inevitable Deansplosion.

Instead, Dean straightened, eyes locked on Adam. "Sam?"

Sam swallowed, trying not to look like a little kid afraid of his big brother, but totally feeling it on the inside. "Look, Dean - "

"Outside."

Without sparing Sam a glance, Dean turned on his heels and marched outside, not bothering to temper the door slam behind him.

Sam hung his head, giving Adam a decent dose of The Eyes. Adam, at least, had the good graces to blush and sputter. "I'm sorry, Sam! I thought it'd get him to talk about it more or something. He's just so…"

"Unreachable. Yeah, I know. It's okay. Just...stay here. Please."

Adam nodded, regret and sorrow etched onto his features. Sam wasn't mad. He understood how frustrating it was to not be heard in this family. Especially when it was for your "own good".

Ugh.

Sam quietly shut the door, meeting Dean at the Impala. Pursed lips, arms folded across his chest, cheek muscle doing that twitching thing. Fuuuuuck…

"Dean, listen to me, okay? I - "

Dean rolled his eyes, waving him off. "I know you didn't promise him shit, Sam. Don't worry." He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

Sam sagged against the trunk in relief. "Thank God. But then what - "

Dean pushed himself off the car. "It's kinda funny, huh? You spent years fighting Dad to get out of hunting, and he's fighting me to get in." He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "I couldn't keep you out. Azazel made his move and I know it was beyond me, but still."

Sam kept quiet, letting Dean finish.

"This life sucks, man. I needed to know he was serious before we did anything."

Nodding a little, Sam met Dean's eyes. "So. Making him run?"

The corner of Dean's mouth lifted. "Hell, yeah."

xxxxx

Three Weeks Later…

"Jesus, Adam, we're digging, not going to a strip joint."

"I don't care that we're digging. I'm helping, man. That's the cool part. Which shovel is mine?"

Dean rolled his eyes, handing over a shovel to the kid bouncing on his heels, a ridiculous grin spread across his face. "Take this one. It's heavier."

"Awesome!"

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing as Dean rolled his eyes again. "Okay, you remember what to do?"

Before Dean had the trunk shut, Adam was already heading to the grave, head nodding, eyes glinting. "Yep - the shovel goes into the ground, I pull up dirt, then - "

Dean smacked him across the back of the head, "Try again, asshole."

Adam flashed Sam a grin, who no longer contained his laughter.

Since when did they laugh while digging up a grave? Yeesh…

"Okay, okay." Adam's face grew serious as the brothers fell in sync, stepping over and around grave markers. "I gotta keep my eyes open, be ready for temperature drops and sudden appearances of pissed off douchebag spirits who don't understand that their place isn't here. The shovels have iron fillings and salt decoupaged onto the flat end, in case I can't get to the shotgun filled with salt rounds."

"Decoupaged?" Dean asked, brow wrinkling.

"Nevermind, Dean. What else?" Sam asked. "What's the most important part?"

They stopped at the site, Adam leaning on the shovel handle, giving Sam a hardcore Are You Serious? look.

He was met with an equally hardcore Duh look, followed by a head tilt by Dean.

Sighing, Adam rolled his eyes. "Don't shoot either of you."

Dean clapped his shoulder. "Perfect. Since you're so excited, you and Sam can break ground. I'll break open a beer, and cheer you on." He twirled his hand in the air, reached in the cooler for a beer and sat, saluting his brothers as a finale.

Even though the dirt was fairly loose and the night air fresh and cool, all three were lathered in sweat and grime by the time they hit the coffin. Adam's shovel landed on the wooden box first.

"Yahtzee!"

As he climbed out, Dean glanced at Sam. That's my word…

Sam shrugged back. He's your protegé. "You wanna pry it open?"

With a grin on his face, Adam passed up the shovel, making gimme gimme motions for the crowbar. He dug in, his brothers watching with a beer each. "I know this seems silly to you guys...but it means a lot...that you're letting me be a part of this." He paused between words, gasping for air as he pushed and tugged on the coffin.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look/shrug combo. Dean took a swig from his bottle, eyeing Sam. It helps to have someone else dig.

Sam took his own sip. Amen to that.

Adam leaned on the crowbar, tossing up a saucy look. "Besides, having someone younger to help - "

An arm shot through the wooden box, grabbing Adam's leg and pulling it out from under him. His head slammed against the rim as he fell, motionless and still.

"Adam!" Dean roared, leaping into the grave. Sam primed the shotgun, and once Dean cleared the still groping limb, he shot twice into the head of the box. Splinters flew, a few scratching Dean's face and arms as he shielded his brother from the blast.

Blood gushed from the side of Adam's head. "Adam...Adam!" Dean cupped his chin, trying to examine the wound and determine whether he could be moved.

"Dean!"

Instinctively, Dean clutched Adam's body close, as ripples from within the coffin jostled him back and forth. Didn't matter if Adam should be moved or not - he was being moved.

On a mental count of one, Dean hoisted Adam over his shoulder, standing precariously on the quivering box. The corpse's arm was back, joined by a second, punching their way through the wood.

"Take him!"

Dropping the gun, Sam reached down and grabbed Adam under the arms. He winced as his brother's head lolled to the side, warm blood seeping through Sam's shirt.

The second Adam was out of Dean's grasp, he snatched the fallen shotgun and fired every salt round into the body to stall for time. He leapt out, throwing the box of salt and container of accelerant into the grave, the latter hitting a halfway decomposed head that managed to thrust its way through a large hole. The match hit home, lighting up the corpse and sending the spirit...wherever.

Not here, was all he cared about.

Dean spun around to find Adam on the ground, still unconscious, and Sam, forehead wrinkled with worry, investigating the head would in the moonlight. He crouched down, chewing on his upper lip, needing to ask but afraid of the answer. "How is he?"

Sam shook his head, dabbing at the blood. "Concussion for sure - he hit pretty hard. He's not responsive at all."

Dean nodded, and their eyes met. Without saying a word, they knew what they had to do.

Hospital.

xxxxx

A machine beeped.

Constantly.

Somewhere.

Sam was tempted to wander the neighboring rooms and smash it. He settled for sighing and shifting his weight on the small lounge chair in the corner of Adam's room. He thought about using the ottoman, but it was too much effort to spend the two minutes it would take to get comfortable.

A quick glance across the room showed Dean, ever vigilant, at Adam's bedside, eyes locked on their younger brother, watching his chest rise and fall.

Waiting for his eyes to open.

It was kinda surreal, to be in a position to watch how Dean handled unconscious, hospitalized little brothers. He tried not to stare, but honestly, he couldn't take his eyes off the raw emotion displayed on Dean's face, a sight he'd rarely witnessed. The worry, fear, anxiety, regret, anger...all competing with exhaustion, depleted adrenaline, and his own aches and pains.

When Dean started shaking his head in response to a conversation only he was privy to, Sam knew he had to step in. Swallowing down a smidge of jealousy (which made him feel like a huge asshole), Sam regrouped and focused on the only problem he could affect.

Dean.

Sam stood, stretching, and dragged the chair closer to the opposite side of the bed. Dean's eyes tracked him, clearly annoyed that Sam wasn't sleeping. Sam rolled his eyes (the jealousy washing away) and tilted his chin at Dean.

"You okay?"

"I'm not the one in the hospital bed."

Sam sighed. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

Sam pointed a finger at him. "Don't say it."

Frown, but the eyes were suspicious. "Don't say what?"

"The same bullshit you always say."

Blink, blink...blink. "Not really in the mood for cryptic shit, Sam."

Sam hung his head a second, before lifting his eyes to Dean. In a lowered voice meant to sound like Dean, he intoned, "I'm fine, I shouldn't be fine, it should've been me, I should've seen it coming, this is my fault."

They blinked at each other.

"Fuck you."

Sam sighed. "Dean - "

Dean waved him off. "I know, I know, I know, alright? It wasn't my fault. This is the risk we take every time we hunt." He sighed, eyes back on Adam. "I just...did it have to be his first time out? I mean, seriously? Is our luck really that shitty?"

Sam scratched behind his ear. "First off, yes, our luck's really that shitty." Dean grunted. "And I agree with you...having him get hurt on his first hunt…"

"It sucks."

"I know."

Dean dragged a hand down his face. "He'll be fine, I know he'll be fine. It just wasn't fair."

Sam couldn't argue with that, so he simply nodded, leaned back, and helped keep watch, like a good big brother.

It was another few hours before Adam began to stir. Both Sam and Dean perked up instantly, exhaustion forgotten as hope and Thank Fucking God flooded through them.

"Hey there…" Dean leaned down. "Can you hear me?"

Adam's answer was in the form of small groaning noises, but he turned his head slightly toward Dean's voice, which Dean decided was a point in their favor.

Encouraged, he kept talking, while motioning for Sam to grab...someone. Anyone. "You gave us quite a scare...how about you open your eyes, huh?"

Frowning, Adam peeled one eye open.

Dean smiled, picking up Adam's hand. "There you go. Sam's getting a doctor, okay? Just...hold on."

Adam nodded, wincing when his head moved, letting that eye slip back closed.

Sam returned, a little breathless. "I told the nurse. She's paging a doctor and will be here in a...second." Sam faltered a little at the sight of Dean holding Adam's hand. This time, it wasn't jealousy he felt, but rather an overwhelming sense of how deeply Dean felt about family, little brothers in particular.

Dean nodded, eyes still trained on Adam.

"S'm?"

Sam hurried to Adam's side, his eyes flickered to Dean before leaning down. "Hey, Adam...I'm here…"

"D'ja gt'it?

Both brothers chuckled. "Yeah, Adam, we got it."

Adam cracked that eye open again, giving Sam a hardcore look. "Dn't let'm bench me."

"I'm right here, you know," Dean protested.

Adam snorted.

Sam patted up his other hand, ignoring Dean. "I won't. I promise."

"…'kay. 'M good. Jus' gimme a day..."

xxxxx

The silence in the motel room was much more than a tad on the awkward side, the blow-up from ten minutes ago still simmering within each Winchester's head. Wind howled outside, rattling the windows and scattering debris across the parking lot.

Dean sat on the edge of a bed, head in his hands, trying to lower his blood pressure. Adam was on the couch, ice pack on his temple, a blanket pulled up to his neck. Surly didn't quite cover the expression on his face.

Sam…

Sam once again sat at the table, openly nursing a beer, debating whether he should peel the label off the bottle before or after he finished it.

Sighing, Dean dropped his hands on his thighs, turning to face Sam. "This is ridiculous."

"Thanks for talking about me as if I wasn't in the room."

"I was not only talking about you as if you weren't in the room, I was pointedly not talking to you."

Adam shifted the ice pack. "You're being an asshole."

"You're being a baby."

"You're both being babies and assholes," Sam interjected, deciding to peel the label right then and there to avoid glancing up at Dean, and also, hopefully, avoiding the obvious But Are We Baby Assholes punchline. "But you're both right. So maybe take five minutes to simmer down before starting up again."

Sam could feel them staring, but he was past the point of giving a shit. The two weeks Adam's been out of the hospital have been nothing but nonstop arguing over when he should return to hunting. Once again, Sam felt caught in the middle, seeing value on both sides, frustrated that they couldn't do the same.

Adam rolled over, burying his face against the back of the couch, adjusting the ice pack with a grunt. The blanket slipped off his shoulder, but he didn't bother fixing it.

Dean frowned in his direction, sighing as he walked over and gently tucked Adam in.

Adam graciously sniffled a thank you.

Dean threw his hands in the air, silently pleading with Sam for help. Sam set down his beer, gesturing with his head for Dean to move away. With another irritated huff, Dean mouthed, "Fine!", grabbed a beer, and crammed himself into a chair at the table. Sam sat on the couch, placing one hand on Adam's shoulder.

"We need to talk about this."

"I'm tired, Sam."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Adam...stop it. Talk to me."

Adam let out a breath and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. "What do you want me to say? I've already told you - "

"You've told us, Adam. We never talked." Sam took the ice pack out of Adam's grasp. "What's really bothering you?"

Adam's lower lip actually quivered, his eyes rolling a little, staring anywhere but at or near Sam. "I'm scared, okay?"

"Scared of what?" Dean asked, leaning forward until his elbows on his knees. "The monsters?"

Adam bit his lip. "No…''

"Adam?"

"Letting you down again, okay?" He snatched the icepack out of Sam's hands, and rolled over with a sigh.

Dean blinked at his back, straightening as he set his beer on the table. "Come again? You don't wanna hunt because you think you let us down?!"

Fuck...Sam knew where this was headed: Competing guilt and blame, duking it out for the championship title. Resolutely pointing a finger at Dean, he barked, "Not another word."

Dean's head retreated.

"I mean it, Dean. This wasn't your fault."

Adam glanced over his shoulder. "How would it be his fault?"

Sam waved a hand at him. "Exactly."

"He wasn't the one in the grave."

Sam blinked. "Wait, no - "

"You're right, Adam. I wasn't in the grave. I was sippin' beer, on watch."

Oh, JesusChrist. Sam hung his head, wishing they were at Bobby's.

Adam rolled over. "You were trusting me to do the job, and I missed the ..."

"If anyone missed anything, it was me, because I was…"

Sam snapped. "Enough!" The universe was so startled at Sam's outburst, even the wind paused. "You two have been fighting like this for over a fucking month." He got to his feet, pacing the small room, flinging irritation like beads at a Mardi Gras parade. He jabbed a finger at Adam. "In the hospital, you were all...don't let him bench me, Sam. I can still do this, Sam. And you," Dean's turn. "You were all, give him some time, Sam. Let's make sure he's healed up, Sam. And now…" He backed up a step so he could Sam Bitchface both at the same time. "Now, you're reversing roles while playing the Self-Loathing, I Don't Deserve To Breathe game."

Massaging his forehead, Sam paused a second. "I hate that game," he whispered. Dropping his hands, he sighed, the anger rush from a moment ago drained away. "You both know damn well it was no one's fault. No reason for disappointment or second guessing. Now, we can either go to Bobby's and lie low for a while, or go east, where I found another hunt. Figure it out while I grab dinner."

He snatched up his jacket, muttering to himself as he struggled to shove his arms in the sleeves, "Figures I'd have to have two of them. Exactly the same. Fucking figures." A little louder, he added, "I'm getting more beer, too." The door slammed behind him, and before long, the Impala started up.

They hesitantly exchanged sheepish looks.

Sitting up, Adam passed the ice pack between hands, eyes on the floor.

Dean broke the silence with a nod toward the door. "He was on watch, too."

Adam nodded, glancing up. "We were talking, he was just standing there." He swung his legs to the floor.

Dean nodded back in agreement, before setting his bottle on the table with a sigh. "Look, Adam...the thing about hunting monsters is...they're monsters. Some of them have rules they have to follow, but most of the time, crazy-assed shit happens that wasn't expected." He gestured at his brother. "A simple salt and burn can turn into - "

"Major head trauma. I know. I've seen you guys come back hurt all the time. It's just…" Adam sighed, tossing the ice pack onto the couch. "It's just that I wanted to show you I could do it, you know? I wanted to be a part of it."

"Dude, you are a part of it, and we've always known you could do it. That's not in question. But if you're gonna do this, then you gotta get back in there."

"Christ, our luck just sucks."

Dean saluted him, and they sat in silence. Adam finally asked, "Sam's pissed at us, isn't he?"

Dean's mouth cinched to the side. "Nah. He's just getting a taste of what it feels like to be caught in the middle. He'll be fine."

"What do you think he found out east?"

"Knowing him, probably a pixie."

xxx end xxx

A/N: Next one's all about Adam, too - could sort of be considered a sequel, or at least in this little AU.