Prologue

"No – Dean, help! Come on, help me! Dean, help! Dean!"

"Hold on, we'll get you out!"

But they couldn't.

Sam was still lying on the floor, curled up into a ball, coughing. Dean knelt down by his side and asked, "You all right?"

Sam nodded. He didn't look capable of speech. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he tried to sit up. Dean grabbed his arm and helped him. "Come on, Sam," he said. "Let's get out of here."

With Dean's help Sam managed to hobble to the car, coughing all the way but thankfully not spewing blood. Dean settled him in the passenger seat before getting in at his side and putting the pedal to the metal.

"Sammy?" he said, five minutes later. "You doing okay?"

Sam nodded, staring out his window. He refused to look at Dean, so Dean turned back to the road.

A horrible weight had settled in his chest, making him feel sick. Adam. Their brother Adam, and they'd failed to save him. He was now in Michael's control, for nothing he'd done. His only crime was carrying the Winchester bloodline.

Almost without realizing he was doing it, Dean grabbed a cassette and shoved it into the slot, turning the volume up high. The music offered a temporary reprieve, and he focused on the road ahead of him.

Once safely inside the motel room, Sam made a beeline for the bathroom and locked himself in, leaving Dean to salt the door and windows and put up the sigils and devil traps. For good measure he checked for hex bags as well, and when he had made sure there weren't any he kicked his shoes off and collapsed bonelessly on his bed.

He stared at the ceiling. What now? he wondered. Adam was gone. Screwed. Done for. Probably dead (again) or worse. Simply because he was a Winchester.

He was only 19. This wasn't supposed to be his fate. He was supposed to have survived and gone on with his life, safe and sound and happy. But now that wasn't going to happen, no thanks to Dean.

Just another day on the job, he thought with disgust. Another man down. Another person they'd failed. Another person whose blood was on his hands.

Dean closed his eyes, but almost immediately opened them again, sitting up. There were retching sounds coming from the bathroom.

Sam.

He bolted towards the bathroom door and banged it open, noting dimly Sam hadn't locked it. He found Sam hunched over the sink, coughing violently. With no small amount of alarm he saw the spots of blood dotting the white porcelain.

"Sammy!"

Sam coughed one more time before wiping his mouth and muttering, "'M all right, Dean." Not even slightly convinced, Dean watched as Sam washed away the blood and then splashed water all over his face.

"Why are you still throwing up blood?" asked Dean anxiously once they were both situated on their respective beds, sitting up with the TV going but ignored. "Didn't the bastard fix you?"

"I don't know," Sam answered quietly, his voice hoarse. His skin looked pale and translucent, and there were bags under his eyes. "I think he has, I can't feel any pain, but it still feels like my windpipe is full of blood."

"Maybe it's just some leftover blood," Dean suggested hopefully. "You just need to get it all out."

Sam nodded, knotting his fingers together in his lap and looking down at them. "Yeah. Maybe."

Sensing the conversation wasn't going to continue, Dean unmuted the television and began staring at the screen, though not seeing anything.

Everything was so messed up. Sammy was coughing up blood. Adam was Michael's new chew toy, probably his meatsuit. Cas had vanished and he didn't know where. They had no idea how to stop the Apocalypse, and Crowley wasn't helping. If he could even be trusted, and the jury was still out on that one.

On the television screen a woman in minimal clothing danced slowly and provocatively to some trashy pop song, but Dean was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice it, let alone appreciate it. They were stuck in a rut, and he could see no way out of it. Maybe this really was it. Maybe the Apocalypse and Michael and Lucifer's brawl was destined to happen, and there really was nothing they could do to stop it.

And Sam. Everyone was so convinced Sam would say yes sooner or later. Everyone including Dean, though he felt ashamed of this. How much longer would Sam hold out? How much longer before Lucifer tricked him into agreeing?

And when (if, Dean, if) he did – what then?

A small sniff penetrated his thoughts, and he turned to see Sam staring off into space, his eyes wet and his nose pink. He switched the TV off and got out of bed, moving over to stand at Sam's side. "Sammy?" he said cautiously. "What's wrong?"

Sam looked up. "Dean–" he began, but stopped, swallowing.

"What is it, Sammy?" asked Dean quietly. Sam was clearly upset, and Dean had an inkling he knew what about.

Sam tried again. "Dean, I–" Again he stopped, and looked down in his lap. Dean noticed his entire frame was shaking. Sam was crying.

"Whoa, whoa, Sammy," Dean said, moving into Big Brother mode and sitting down next to Sam. "It's all right, Sammy, you listen to me. It's okay." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gripped tight, hoping it would anchor Sam.

Sam looked at Dean again, tears streaming down his face, and to Dean's alarm began all out sobbing. "Dean, I – we couldn't – Zachariah – tried – he's just a kid, Dean!" Sam managed to say, choking on his own words.

Dean remained quiet for a second, not knowing how to respond. Of course the kid was crying for Adam – what else? He watched as Sam tried to scrabble away at his eyes, failing because his tears were falling faster than he could wipe them away.

"I wanted so bad to save him!" Sam said between heaving, shaky breaths. "I wanted him to have a normal life, to be – be safe! I didn't want him to get into this sort of trouble, I didn't want any of this for him! Dean–"

Again he was unable to continue beyond his brother's name, and Dean took advantage of the opportunity. He put his arms around Sam's shoulders and pulled him close, resting Sam's head on his shoulder. "Shh, Sammy," he whispered, running his fingers through Sam's hair, a gesture that normally calmed him no matter what but didn't seem to be working this time. "Shh, Sammy, it's all right..."

"No it isn't, Dean!" contradicted Sam, holding on to Dean's shirt tightly. "It isn't! He's gone, Dean! Our brother! Michael's probably already inside him–" (due to the circumstances, Dean very wisely refrained from commenting on exactly how wrong that sounded) "–and there's nothing we can do about it! We couldn't save him, Dean!"

The kid was voicing every single thing Dean had felt since they'd left the factory, and it just amplified the issue at hand. Their brother. Adam. Their kid brother. He was gone, worse than dead, and it was their fault. Dean's. Dean's, more than Sam's.

All the same the elder Winchester felt he had to console Sam somehow, so he said, "Listen to me, Sammy. We tried. Remember that. We tried to save him, we tried our damnedest."

"It wasn't good enough!" said Sam frustratedly, pulling at Dean's shirt. Dean could feel the hot warmth of his brother's tears soaking his shirt at the shoulder and neck. "He's still gone, Dean! He's still just – gone!"

Dean held Sam just a little bit tighter. "But you're not," he said quietly. "If I'd grabbed him, it's you who'd have been left behind with Michael and Zachariah's body. And since he can't possess you, he would have hurt you. Very badly."

Sam quietened, considering this. Then he said, his voice laced with tears, "All the same, Dean, he's our brother. Call me stupid for hoping, but–" he scoffed bitterly, "–I was actually looking forward to getting to know him better. Of making him realize that we're his brothers, and we wanted to help him. I wanted to be a big brother, too, Dean."

The last few words were daggers in Dean's heart as he processed them. His little Sammy, who wanted to be a big brother too, who was crying for the kid he'd only known for a few hours. His kid brother, who despite everything was still the caring, sensitive person he'd always been. Demon blood, Ruby, starting the Apocalypse – none of that had been able to change who Sam truly was deep down inside.

"Sammy," Dean began. "We may have failed him – me more than you, to be honest – but that's just another reason we've got to stick with each other. We can't fail each other."

Sam nodded against Dean's shoulder.

"So listen to me – it doesn't matter what happens next. You're still my little brother, and I'm still going to look after you. Lucifer and Michael can't change that. Screw this destiny crap." (He felt a little hypocritical, as his words were in direct contrast to his earlier thoughts, but if it cheered Sam up he was ready to tap dance in a pink sundress.) "We're going to make our own destiny. Just the two of us."

"How?" whispered Sam.

"I don't know," Dean said honestly. "I'll be honest with you, Sammy – we're stuck. I can't see any way out. I don't know how longer you can hold out against Lucifer. Sooner or later he'll make you say yes, by any means – probably by threatening to kill me. Lucifer and Michael will definitely have their little catfight. I'm not sure I can go on. Cas is gone. Bobby's incapacitated. It's just the two of us."

Sam remained quiet, taking it all in. Dean was making sense, even if he was painting a less-than-hopeful picture. Maybe he could just say yes and get it over with... he sighed audibly.

Interpreting the sigh correctly, Dean said sharply, "No, Sammy. You're not going to say yes. Not like that."

"I won't say it at all," Sam said determinedly, pushing away the doubt he felt. "I'm not letting you down again, Dean."

Dean's heart swelled strangely in his chest. "Yeah," he said thickly, feeling a lump in his throat. Sammy. His baby brother – his good little boy. "Yeah," he said again, his voice stronger this time. "You're right. We're not going to give in. Hell, we're Winchesters. We're going to do what we always do, Sammy – we're going to carry on, one day at a time,together."

After a pause Sam said, "Yeah. We are."

"Good," Dean said. "So no one's going anywhere, okay?"

Sam nodded. Shifting so that he was comfortable, Dean released Sam for a minute and climbed into the bed properly, sitting with his back against the headboard. Sam watched him uncertainly, wondering if what he wanted to do would be overstepping his boundaries, but then deciding fuck it and lying down with his head in Dean's lap anyway.

Against Sam's expectations Dean didn't push him off, though he did look a little surprised. To his credit he got rid of it very quickly, and instead began running his fingers through Sam's mane again, his free hand covering Sam with the blanket. "It's all right, Sammy," he whispered one more time. "It's okay. We're okay. I got ya."

And finally, Sam was convinced, not due to his logic but because Dean said so. He drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, helped along by his brother's soothing presence and his comforting touch...

Do you guys know what it's like, huh? Do you? DO YOU?

Do you know whAT IT'S LIKE TO WAKE UP ONE FINE MORNING (or in the middle of the night, same difference) WITH THIS IDEA IN YOUR HEAD THAT WON'T LEAVE YOU ALONE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO WRITE IT EVEN THOUGH YOU'VE GOT MOTHERHUGGING EXAMS GOING ON?

DO. YOU.

Yeah. Thought so *grins*

Yeah so anyway, this is just the prologue, and there will be Adam in the next chapter, so patience, my lovelies.

I set the characters as Sam and Dean, because while Adam plays a central role the story is about them, how they deal with it, how they adjust to Adam and take care of him. So yeah. Thought I'd explain that.

OH BEFORE I FORGET: this story contains bucketloads of fluff. Just sayin'. Don't imagine you'd have any issues with it, but if you do, utilize the Back button please.

All righty, then, reviews are nicey, and while you're at it, please do go read Don't Lose Your Grip by xxDodo and agent iz hyper, it's on Dodo's profile :) these two awesome as hell people wrote it as my birthday present, and I cannot love them enough :3 Mah broz :')

-Peace x