The music had to be inside Adam's skull.
Rhythmic, measured, pulsing, throbbing.
He turned in his seat, trying to gauge how much longer until Dean finished wiping out the pockets of the small crowd gathered around the pool table.
"Not much longer," Sam murmured, not looking up from his laptop. "We'll leave in a couple minutes."
Adam nodded, wincing a little at the movement. He sipped some water, noting in surprise, that at some point Sam finished Adam's beer, along with most of his own.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention and thought your bottle was mine. You want another one?"
Adam glanced up at Sam's guilty face, and smiled. "No big deal. We're leaving anyway. I can grab one from the cooler later."
Sam nodded, relief washing over his face before returning to the screen.
Adam laughed to himself. Sam felt guilt at the weirdest shit. He was glad the beer was gone, actually. He'd taken some Tylenol earlier, and had no intention of drinking tonight. But Dean was in character, and ordered a round for their table before sauntering off to make money.
Some girls shrieked when the song changed, hurtling themselves toward the dance floor, startling some of the pool players. Techno Nite wasn't what one expected at a tiny dive bar in the middle of nowhere. Adam rubbed his forehead, wondering if his headache would ever go away.
The laptop clicked shut, and Sam drained his beer from the other end of the table. "Alrighty. Let's head out."
In sync, the brothers stood, made sure they had everything, then headed for the door without a backward glance at Dean, whose laughter somehow managed to cut through the music. Cool air, tinged with a hint of rain, rushed Adam's face when the door opened. Shivering, he pulled his jacket closer, huddling inside.
Keys jingled to his left, signalling the promise of worn leather seats and a cool window for his aching head. Behind them, the door burst open, followed by a round of raucous laughter.
"You almost had me, you sonofabitch!" Dean had that perfect blend of slurred speech and coherence.
"Goddamn, I was close. But you sank that shot, Welston. No idea how you managed it, but you did!"
"I dunno, either! That was pure fuckin' luck, man. Had an angel on my shoulder, or somethin'."
Sam snorted, rolling his eyes at Adam who ducked his head to hide the smile spreading across his face. Dean exchanged pleasantries for a couple minutes, thanking the poor sap for gracefully (albeit unknowingly) losing to a hustler.
The door unlocked, and Adam quietly slid into the backseat, enjoying the absence of the music's bass beating in his head. It'd been a month since his head injury, and he was still sensitive to some loud noises. They had to put off teaching him how to shoot until it completely passed.
Dean joined them with a nod, and pulled the Impala onto the road. Once clear, Sam turned in his seat. "So. I take it you won?"
Dean flashed a grin before reaching into his pocket and tossing a wad of bills into Sam's lap. "See for yourself."
Sam let out a low whistle as he flipped through the money. "Nice. On to Castleton, now?"
"Yup. Bobby's buddy has that nice little problem near the Catskills."
Their voices blurred together, as Adam leaned against the window and closed his eyes. The cool glass felt fantastic on his headache, and he drifted to sleep.
xxxxx
Adam woke with a start, arms flailing a bit as his subconscious mind caught up to his conscious mind, realizing a few seconds later that he wasn't in any danger.
Fucking nightmares.
He scrubbed at his face and sat up, noting that the gummy feeling in his head hadn't lessened.
"Good morning," Dean sang. "Although it's not really morning. Sam's in the can. Something about the pizza we had last night and his inability to eat like a man. You need to visit the little boys room while we're stopped?"
Adam blinked and looked around. They were parked next to a questionable looking gas station, which meant that Sam's situation was a tad more dire than presented if he actually went inside.
Adam wasn't sure he wanted to go in a questionable looking gas station and a presumably equally questionable bathroom after his brother probably decimated it with last night's confirmably questionable pizza.
Besides, the thought of leaving the warm interior of the car was absolutely unappealing. His headache was still present, lingering behind his eyes uncomfortably. He ducked his head and sneezed, blinking afterwards.
"Bless you," Dean murmured absently, rooting through a bag of M&Ms. "So, potty break or no?"
Adam sniffed. "Nah, I'm good." He grabbed a napkin off the floor, swiping at his nose before settling back against the seat. He glanced out the window, spying Sam checking out, then making his way back to the Impala, a paper bag clutched to his chest.
"How's it goin', Sammy?" Dean crooned, starting the engine.
"Fuck you," Sam grated, tossing the bag on the seat between them.
Dean chuckled as he drove out of the parking lot, "Aw, c'mon. Is it that bad?"
Adam closed his eyes, a smile on his lips. The smile faded, however, when a second sneeze caught him off guard. Luckily, his brothers were too busy bantering over whether one could actually shit one's brains out, to notice that he was probably getting sick.
It fucking sucked.
Adam's first hunt was ruined by an unexpected spirit. He was just getting into the swing of hunting, and was looking forward to this next one. If they found out he was coming down with something, he'd be benched for sure.
Determined to get his shit under control, because that's what Winchesters totally do with an illness, Adam decided to take another nap, and try to head this thing off.
xxxxx
"Hey, sleepyhead. We're here."
Adam blinked, the interior of the Impala slowly coming into focus. "Where are we?"
"New York. C'mon - Sam's getting a room."
Nodding, Adam struggled to sit, hating the way his whole head slogged. He spied a brand new tissue box on the floor and grabbed a few, wiping his nose before joining Dean at the trunk, already pulling out bags. By the time Adam made it back there, Sam returned, tapping key cards against his palm.
"Hey," Adam asked, "Feelin' better?" He figured focusing on Sam's ailment was better than focusing on his.
"Huh? Oh, that. Yeah, it...passed."
Dean snickered.
"How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off, Dean?"
"As many times as you want, Princess. Come on - I'm beat."
Sam and Dean grabbed bags, leaving two duffels for Adam to take. He picked them up, thanking the heavens they were light, and followed his brothers into the room. Sam plopped his bags on the table. "We got lucky - the couch folds out, so no sharing tonight."
Adam sighed in relief - the last thing he wanted was to be sick next to one of them in bed. There was no way he could keep it off their radar if that happened.
"What? Those rooms cost extra," Dean griped, tossing his bag on a chair. "All my hard earned cash - "
"That cash you stole?"
"I did not steal it. I earned it."
"It's all the motel had left, Dean. You wanna drive another hour to save twenty bucks?"
Sam turned to Adam, rolling his eyes, oblivious to Dean making faces at his back.
Normally, Adam would've laughed. But tonight, his mind was whirling with ideas. The couch was farthest away, so…"I'll take the couch," he offered. Sam was about to protest, but Adam cut him off. "I'm shorter than you - that thing will kill your back."
Ha - that stopped him.
"Thanks, man," was what Sam said instead.
"No problem." As Adam rooted around his bag for a clean shirt that he really didn't need right then, he took stock of how he felt, distantly aware of his brothers bickering over what to eat for dinner. He tentatively swallowed, mentally cursing at the beginnings of a sore throat. His head still felt foggy, even though he was now fully awake. And while he may have been fully awake, he was tired as fuck.
Simply. Awesome.
He had to stay under their radar so he could still participate in this hunt. "Hey, I'm gonna take a shower."
Dean pointed at him. "Do not use all the hot water. What do you wanna eat?"
Adam shrugged, picking up his bag and walking to the bathroom. "I'm not that hungry, so anything's fine. Get whatever works for Sam's stomach." He closed the door behind him, muffling Dean's options for what was best for Sam's stomach, which were all vehemently shot down by Sam.
xxxxx
The shower felt nice and all, but Adam was too focused on not using a lot of hot water, so it was definitely brief. When he emerged from the bathroom, towel drying wet hair, Dean was on the phone. "Yeah...my sister wants the dressing on the side." A balled up sheet of paper beaned him on the back of his head. Not missing a beat, he continued with the conversation. "Great, see you then."
Dean stooped to retrieve the wad of paper from under a chair. "Quit bein' a slob, Sammy."
"Quit being a dick."
"I am a dick. A huuuuuuge one."
Sam sighed, shaking his head. "You're useless, you know that?" He turned to Adam, who was tucking his bag next to the couch, trying very hard to hide his face. A quick peek in the mirror had revealed signs of a fever, glowing from both cheeks, so he figured the best route was to hide. "Hey...would you check over the med kit real quick - see what supplies we need? We'll run to the store and get more stuff before picking up dinner."
Dean piped up. "I know we're out of those square bandages and Tylenol. We should get Gatorade and crackers, too. Come outside when you're ready, Sam. I need to check Baby over...I think she needs new wiper blades. I'll drive." He left the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Adam carried the kit to the couch, marveling at how quickly Dean flipped between calling Sam a girl and making sure they had Gatorade and crackers for his stomach.
He bit his lip when shivering tried to announce that Adam Winchester had a problem.
After yet another quick swipe at his nose, Adam began rooting through the kit, recognizing his chance. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Okay - we, uh, we're down to one tube of antibiotic cream, we could use a couple new ice packs…" Adam shook a bottle that barely rattled. "Yeah, definitely need Tylenol, and the...cough syrup's all gone." He finished with a tiny shrug, like this was no big deal, just doin' what you asked.
Sam sighed, patting down his pockets. "Good thing he scored that cash. Okay...sit tight. Maybe look up some info on the location Bobby sent. There has to be something we can use. We'll be right back."
Adam nodded, fiddling with a package of bandaids. "Yeah, okay."
The door shut behind Sam, and Adam slouched, wondering how long he could keep this up, especially if Sam didn't come back with more than Tylenol.
Sighing, he pulled the laptop onto his lap, and began a search for which buildings had a past ripe for elemental poltergeists. He lasted ten minutes before falling asleep on the couch, the laptop cradled in his arms.
xxxxx
Sam left the motel room with a sigh.
Dean was leaning on the Impala, rubbing his jaw. "He needs a lot more medicine, man."
Nodding, Sam joined him. "I know. I'll slip it all in the kit where he'll find it, and keep track of what he's taking."
"I dunno. Maybe we should - "
"Dean. We're not benching him. Come on - how many times did you hunt sick with Dad, huh? We can't take this away from him, not after his first hunt got ruined."
Dean pushed himself off the car, making his way to the driver's door while pointing at Sam with the keys. "I won't let him get hurt again, Sam. Not over his pride."
Sam just stared back, hoping that the silent treatment would help sink in the irony of Dean's statement.
Dean huffed. "You know what I mean."
Score. "Stick to the original plan." Sam went to the passenger side, joining Dean inside the car. "Let him keep thinking we don't know he's sick. We'll keep making supplies and meds available, control what he does on this hunt, and he'll be fine."
"Then we're going to Bobby's where he can get over it all," Dean added, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.
Sam held up his hands. "No argument there! I just...he needs this, Dean. We gotta help him."
"I know, I know. But if he tanks on the meds, we have to bench him. It's not safe."
"Agreed."
xxxxx
Head pounding, Adam slowly woke, a steady rhythm beating in his head. He was about to tell Dean to turn down the music, when he realized...riiiiight...no music. Blinking groggily, he rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the uncomfortable, achy, blechiness he felt all over.
Blurry vision tried to focus on two brothers, stretched out on the beds, watching TV. Before he could stop, he sneezed into the blanket that...he didn't remember having earlier.
"Morning, Princess," Dean called out.
Still unwilling to admit he was sick, Adam froze, not sure what to say or do. He tentatively swallowed - yup, throat was sore. That meant his voice could be compromised. He tentatively sniffed - yup, nose was running. That meant he'd sound congested. A tickle began in the back of his throat - yup, coughing was about to happen. Not to mention he fell asleep without doing any research, after having been asleep pretty much all day.
He was screwed.
"We let you get your beauty rest since you found that info on the hunt."
What the..."Huh?" That was all he could come up with.
Sam swung his legs to the floor, crossing the room to a table, where, oh hey, the laptop now sat. He chuckled. "We took a lot longer at the store than we should've. Jesus, the lines were insane." He shook his head, picking up the laptop and heading back to the bed.
Dean absently changed channels, eyes glued to the TV as he spoke. "I still think you should be shot for having that many coupons. Anyway, we finally get back, and there you were, practically using the computer as a pillow, a dozen tabs open and text highlighted." He pointed at Adam. "That's dedication."
Adam's eyebrows rose. Really? He researched in his sleep? That was...fucking lucky.
Sam rolled his eyes, settling back in bed with the laptop. "No, it's like having free labor at your disposal."
Dean scoffed. "Come on, I don't think of it like that."
Even feverish, Adam knew better.
Apparently, so did Sam. "Really? Is that why you told me how great it was to have someone around who could do the heavy lifting?"
Adam cleared his throat, desperately trying to hold in the cough that threatened to escape. Nonchalantly, he stood, stretched, and headed to the bathroom. He could still hear their banter through the door, but he had no idea what they were really saying. All he could do was stare at himself in the mirror.
Hair stood up everywhere, flopping over this way and that. His eyes drooped, his nose was bright pink, and in plain, simple terms, he looked like shit. Complete, warmed over, shit.
Who was so desperate to hide how he felt, he was doing it while unconscious.
Adam splashed cold water on his face, and was about to head back into the other room and find out what research he completed when the spotted the mini med kit on top of the toilet tank. He reflexively checked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, blushing when all he saw was the closed bathroom door. A quick rummage revealed holy shit! Tylenol, Dayquil, cough drops with menthol, and lozenges for sore throats.
He couldn't believe his luck! Thank God the med kit was low on supplies. Cinching his mouth to the side, he tried to figure out which to take. There were too many symptoms, so he went with the Dayquil, which would also help the fever. Once the dose (and a little extra) were down the hatch, he pocketed some lozenges and cough drops, then returned the kit where he found it.
Feeling much better, Adam rejoined his brothers.
xxxxx
The next night was chilly and damp - of course it was. Adam stood in the motel room trying to figure out the best way to carry several pounds of tissues and lozenges when a wad of fabric hit him in the head. Looking up, Sam gave him a half-hearted shrug.
"I, uh, got a new sweatshirt at the store, but it's the wrong size. The hanger said it was an extra large, but apparently it's only a medium. We don't have time to return it so…" He shrugged again, turning away to continue packing supplies for the hunt.
Adam stared at it, noting the deep pockets, thick fleece and drawstring hood. Christ, it was perfect. "Sweet - thanks, Sam."
Sam smiled over his shoulder. "No problem."
Dean strolled back inside, rubbing his hands together in an effort to warm them up. "Jesus, why do we always have to hunt when it's cold and wet out?"
"We have shit luck," Adam and Sam chorused.
Dean waggled a finger at them. "Very good, children. You're learning. Alright. We ready to banish this thing?"
Sam nodded. "Yep - everything's packed so we can skip town as soon as we're done. Just need to put this in the trunk."
"Awesome," Dean said. "Adam - grab the med kit and make sure Samantha put everything we bought in there. If he stubs his toe tonight, I wanna make sure the ACE bandages are ready to go."
"You're really not funny, Dean."
"Are you kidding? I'm the only one here who's funny. Gimme that bag and let's get it packed away. Meet us at the car, kid."
Without waiting for an answer, Dean and Sam left the room, leaving Adam alone with the med kit.
And all its contents.
Just...there, practically begging people to help themselves to whatever lie inside.
Within a couple minutes, Adam crammed his pockets full of Kleenex, downed a double shot of cold medicine, and stashed lozenges under the tissues. By the time he finished, he looked like a squirrel prepping for winter.
He just had to get through this hunt, he told himself. Then, he could fess up, and stop holding back every cough and sneeze that snuck up on him.
Prickles up and down his body definitively confirmed the elevated temperature. It made his head fuzzy, knocked his balance a little to the left, and dulled his reaction time.
Sniffling, Adam hefted the med kit and joined his waiting brothers at the Impala.
The drive to the office building didn't take long. Or...maybe it did. Adam wasn't sure. He was too preoccupied debating what to do. The closer they got, the more worried he became. It was stupid to hunt while sick. What if he got one of them hurt? Or worse?
They parked in the back, where only two lights functioned enough to provide some light. Dean got out as soon as the car stopped, dragging a hand down his face before proceeding to the trunk. Sam joined him, and Adam took an extra minute to blow his nose and stall for time, trying to decide whether he should bow out.
He then proceeded to sneeze so hard, he saw stars.
Okay. Bowing out.
With a sigh, Adam stepped out of the Impala, shuffling toward the trunk. Before he could say anything, Dean handed him a shotgun. "Okay. Normally, we'd all go in there and shove the hex bags in the walls, but this one's a little trickier than usual. I know we haven't really taught you the art of shooting things dead, but you can at least handle a shotgun."
Fuck.
Adam cleared his throat, toeing the asphalt. "Uh, Dean…"
Dean interrupted him. "So what we want to do, is have you provide the distraction at the East entrance, since that's where this elemental is gonna gravitate, while we run around with the banishing spells."
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "I dunno…"
Dean shook his head. "You can do this. The most this thing's gonna do is piss and moan at you. If you see it, keep it busy by firing a round or two. It'll be drawn to the entrance and the shells in the gun, and that'll buy us time to do what we need to do."
It took Adam a second to figure it out. They wouldn't be near him. He couldn't accidentally shoot them. He just needed to stay alert and randomly pull the trigger if necessary. He could do that.
Dean set his jaw, as if ready for an argument. "Don't be mad, okay?"
Adam wet his lips, playing his part. Heaving a sigh, he "conceded". "Yeah, it's fine. I'll stand guard. Someone has to, right? And this is my first hunt, so...yeah. No big deal. Really." He flashed a smile, totally convincing as the compliant little brother, being reasonable about his hunting assignment.
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "That's our big boy. Now let's get going."
xxxxx
They left Adam clutching his gun in the entrance lobby, eyes darting this way and that for the poltergeist. Even from halfway down the corridor, they could tell he was shivering and swallowing down coughs.
Sam nudged Dean. "Elemental poltergeists are drawn to the east? Really?"
Dean shrugged, hefting a duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "It's all I had. We agreed to bench him if he tanked, and he's a fucking mess right now...but I can't. I know this is important to him."
Sam nodded in agreement, rifling through his own bag as they walked. "I know - not arguing with the decision. Just marveling at your excuse for leaving him behind in a part of the building this thing can't get to."
Shrugging again, Dean held open a door for Sam. "I used lamer shit on you when we were kids. He'll just stand there, bored as fuck. Come on. Let's get this thing banished and get him to Bobby's."
xxxxx
Adam barely managed to stay awake until his brothers returned. He perked up at Dean's whistle, wiping his face on a sleeve and forcing a smile. "All set?" he asked, handing over the gun in relief. "Nothing showed up, here."
Dean's brow furrowed as he took the gun. "Really? That's odd. We didn't see it either - thought it was down here with you. That's weird."
Sam snapped his fingers, turning to Dean. "Maybe it sensed him waiting."
They voiced various possibilities for why the poltergeist remained hidden, Dean careful not to visibly limp, and Sam not carrying anything with his right arm.
Once the weapons were stowed, they climbed in the car, Adam settling into a corner of the back seat, his eyes slipping closed before he could stop them. A blanket settled over him, and he promptly fell asleep.