Oh. My. Goodness.

I feel absolutely horrible. 38 DAYS?! I had no idea it was that long. But I'm here now, better than ever, with tons of new ideas! Not sure how often I'll be posting with going back to school and all in a few days, but I'll try because I really like this one.

A/N #1: I'm putting my other SPN fic on hold for now because I'm having the worst writer's block ever with that one and it's driving me crazing because I love that one too. I'll come back to it eventually, but not now.

A/N #2: This fic will be my interpretation if what would've happened if Adam lived. I'm really excited about the possibilities of this one, so please read, review, and comment or criticize. I'm always up for some tough love if you've got any pointers :)

Sadly, in my month long absence, I still have not gained the rights to SPN or any of its characters. I'm just a fan who has too much time on their hands.

~palmtreedragons

Dean kicked down the door to the tomb, watching as dust and debris flew into the light piercing the air. God, he hated sewers. He nudged a corpse, now nothing but bones, out of the way as he made his way farther into the dank room. Before Dean was a coffin. Dean quickly observed the blood on the wood. Fresh blood, he thought, every nerve alighting with adrenaline. Dean opened the coffin.

I guess I just found Kate. Well, most of her.

"Get away from him!" Sam barked.

Kate looked between Sam and Adam. "What is going on?"

"You listen to me."

"It's really her, okay?" Adam said.

"There was too much blood. Your mother's dead. There was too much blood in the vents!" Sam shoved Adam away from Kate. Adam took hold of the shotgun.

"Adam!" Kate called.

"Shoot it!"

"He's crazy! Honey, it's me!"

Adam looked helpless and confused, eyes darting back and forth between his mother and his brother.

"Look—Adam!"

"Honey, it's me!"

"Look, that's not your mother!"

"Baby, please!"

"Shoot it! It's not human!"

Adam aimed the gun at Kate. Then he smirked. "I know." The butt of the gun collided with Sam's chin, knocking him out cold.

Dean was halfway to opening another coffin when he heard the noise. At first Dean dismissed it, for it was far too quiet to have actually been made. But no—that was it again. Dean, eyes hard, laid his hands upon the coffin, bracing himself for what lay inside. With a shove, the lid came off.

First Dean saw the blood. Lots, but that was quickly less of a problem as Dean realized who it belonged to.

"Adam?" Dean whispered in shock. Blinking from his stunned state, Dean quickly reached into the coffin, hands slipping on the real Adam's neck as he tried to find a pulse. There's too much blood. Even if he wasn't dead—

Dean stopped his thought mid sentence. Horrified, he realized that there was a pulse.

Sam knew he was in trouble when he awoke. That was a given, being tied to a table and all. He groaned, eyes taking in 'Kate,' who was picking at her nails with the tip of a knife.

"Silver," Sam spoke aloud. "No wonder none of the tests worked. You're not shape-shifters. You're ghouls."

"You know, I find that term racist," the ghouls shot back, waving her knife. She leaned in, smelling Sam. He watched with disgust as she traveled from his hand to his neck, coming to a stop at his ear.

Kate made a sound of delight. "Fresh meat. So much better than what we're used to."

"I should've known. It was the fresh kills that threw me. Ghouls don't usually go after the living. See, you're just filthy scavengers, feeding off the dead—taking the form of the last corpse you choke down."

The ghoul that claimed to be Adam pitched in. "And their thoughts. And their memories. Like Adam, for instance."

"Well, we are what we eat."

"You're monsters." Sam spat.

Kate drew the knife across Sam's arm, drawing blood.

Sam heard Adam's voice: "You know, you use that word a lot, Sam." Sam grimaced as Kate began to drink Sam's dripping blood.

Adam set the knife into the table, too close to Sam's head for his own comfort. "But I don't think you know what it means."

Kate looked to Adam. "His blood, it tastes different."

Adam ignored her. "Our father was a monster? Why? Because of what he ate? He never hurt anyone, Sam. Living, anyway."

Kate pulled the knife free of the table. "No. He was no monster. But the thing that killed him was. A monster named John Winchester."

Dean, for the moment, was glad of all the grave injuries and emergencies throughout his childhood. He was quick to make a tourniquet to try and stop the bleeding, using his torn jacket sleeve. Most of the bleeding came from the young man's arm, where several bites were taken. Dean prayed no major arteries were torn. Looking around frantically, Dean broke a piece of metal off of a nearby coffin and attempted to open the door. No use.

"Holy crap," he muttered. Dammit, I've got to get to Sammy. God knows what's going on up there.

Dean quickly hatched another idea. Stacking the coffins, he used the metal he broke to smash the stained window above. Turning back, Dean eyed Adam, pale and bleeding. He probably won't make it, the hunter in him reasoned. And if he did, how could you possibly get him out the window, and alive?

For a brief moment, the hunter in him almost won. It would be so much quicker to get to Sam by himself. Dean quickly cast that idea from his mind, leaping from the coffins to the limp body of his half-brother.

"Like you and your brother. Inseparable." Adam was leering over Sam, who was bleeding from his side.

"Actually, it was very hard to get you on your own," Kate spoke.

"Like you said, Sam, the only thing you can count on is family."

Kate drank more of Sam's blood, licking her fingers once she was through. "And for twenty years, we lived like rats."

"Graveyard after graveyard," Adam continued, "all that stinking flesh."

"Then we thought, 'Hey, why not move up to fresher game?'"

"And we knew just where to start." Adam dug the knife's point into the cut previously made on Sam's arm. "Revenge—it's never over, is it, Sam?"

"First, it was John's cop friend, and then his slut, and then his son." Kate pointed her knife towards herself and Adam in turn.

"Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead."

"So I guess you and Dean will have to do instead."

"Dean won't interrupt us this time. We're gonna feed on you nice and slow—like we did with Adam."

Kate smiled. "Oh, and, by the way, he really was your brother. You should know that."

"He was still alive when we took our first bites," Adam's ghoul taunted.

"And he was a screamer." Both Kate and Adam cut into Sam's arms, the blood beginning to pour into bowls placed on the floor.

"Sam, the more you struggle, the faster you're gonna bleed out," Adam warned. "So you might as well lie back and relax."

"Hey!"

From the door, a shotgun went off. Adam was thrown into the wall by a bullet piercing his shoulder.

"Dean, they're ghouls!" Sam shouted. Dean paused before firing at Kate. Dean shot a perfect headshot. The corpse fell, unmoving.

"Which means headshot."

Adam rammed into Dean. Glass shattered around the pair as they flew down. Dean slammed Adam into the ground. After several attempts to smash the head with the broken metal from the coffin, Dean finally landed a winning blow.

"Dean!" Dean rushed to Sam's side, cutting the ropes and tape. Helping Sam upright, Dean used towels from nearby to try and stop the bleeding.

"Come on. Come on. Come on." Dean murmured. Now he had two near-dead brothers to— No. Not near-dead. Sam can't die. "Hang on. All right, here we go. Here we go. Hang on, buddy. All right."

Dean watched as Sam managed a "Thank you."

"That's what family's for, right? Keep pressure on that."

"You sure we should do this?" Sam asked uncertainly.

Dean glanced behind his shoulder, getting a view of the backseat of the impala. He and his brother were leaning against the trunk, trying to plan their next move.

"Ghouls didn't fake those pictures. They didn't fake Dad's journal. Adam was our brother." A moment of silence passed between the two. Sam fidgeted with his bandages around his forearms, more of a habit than actual need.

"You know, I finally get why you and Dad butted heads so much." Dean began. Sam turned and looked at his brother. "You two were practically the same person. I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You take it any way you want."

Behind them, they heard the creak of a door open and shut. Adam, as Dean would usually say, looked like hell.

"You should probably not be on your feet," Sam suggested. "You lost a lot of blood. It took quite a bit of stitches, but you'll be fine with rest."

Adam eyed the pair warily. "W-where are we?" His voice was hoarse from misuse. Sam heard Kate's ghoul's voice in his head: He was a screamer.

Dean nonchalantly looked around. "I dunno. Somewhere in a forest?" Sam internally rolled his eyes. That much was obvious, with the large oaks surrounding them and all.

"My mom—" Adam broke off, his eyes drifting downward. Sam and Dean let the silence fall.

Adam looked up once more, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean."

"Winchester? As in—"

"Yeah," Dean cut in, not really excited about re-explaining everything to Adam. This better be the real one, 'cause we've got a lot to cover. "As in John Winchester."

"The thing that killed my mom. . . ."

"Was a ghoul," Sam explained gently.

"How do you know?"

Sam shrugged with one shoulder. "It's kinda what we do."

"You've got two options, Adam," Dean said. "We can drive you to a hospital and you can get checked in, try and restart your life and all that."

"Or?" Adam asked. The poor kid must be overwhelmed.

Sam took a step forward. Dean let his brother talk. Sam was always better with the whole "talking to people" thing. "Or you can come with us. We can teach you to protect yourself from things like that. It's dangerous, but we're family."

"And it's kind of a family business," Dean chimed in. "So, you in?"