A Friend Given by Nature 1/4
Title: A Friend Given by Nature
Rating: I would say PG-13. Nothing too bad except some language (bad boys!)
Warnings: um, bad language, a few F-Bombs.
Spoilers: If you know who Adam is then you're good.
Summary: written for a prompt by captclooless at the ohsam fic challenge: Adam's mom is killed (by MoTW?), and the only contactable family number is Sam. First shocked, but accepting, Sam takes on the role as older brother and caretaker with pride and worms his way into Kid!Adam's heart. But going to school, to work, and making enough money to support two people is hard to do and after a while, he works himself into a fever big enough to warrant a hospital visit. Click here for full prompt.
A/N: Holy hell! This was supposed to be a quick taste at writting a proper prompted Supernatural fic. But then the boys kept wanting to bond! And it kept going and now it's over 13K!! Oops!. Oh well.
Sam tried to concentrate on the words blurring in front of his face. He rubbed his hands down his face again pulling himself together. He'd got two sentences into the next paragraph when the pounding of a bass beat startled him from his stupor.
Sam barley contained his growl before banging on his and Zac’s shared wall
“Oi Zachary! Keep it down, trying to study in here!”
There was no reply but the bass did recede a little which Sam counted as a win at the moment.
“Thank you!” He called out.
He knew he was being, what Dean had lovingly called, a bitch, but he had a headache, had only coffee running through his systems and a quiz in less than 24 hours he had to cram for.
Once the beats had reversed to a quite calming thrum in the back ground, Sam turned back to the text in front of him on Native American mythology. He had started it as a bit of an inside joke between himself... And well himself since Dean wasn't around to find it ironic. It turned out to be one of his toughest courses and the reason he had only had 10 hours sleep over the last few days. Well that and the party Brady had dragged him to.
Sam had a blissful 5 minutes of quite reading where he actually absorbed more than two sentences when the shrill ringing of their dorm phone rang through his room.
Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should give this up for done for the night and try again in the morning
“Zac!” He called when there was no movement from the room next door and the phone carried on wailing.
Zac was forever getting phone calls at all times of day, early morning calls on the weekend from an over protective mother, Sunday afternoon calls from a dotty grandfather who chatted for at least an hour about Zac’s studies as Zac listened half-heartedly whilst channel hopping, calls from his sister, Becky, every other day inviting him to this party or that, which Sam was inevitably dragged along to no matter how hard he argued that he had an essay due.
Sam guessed this was probably Zac’s latest girlfriend, demanding he come over for pizza.
The phone continued to ring and there was no movement from Zac’s room. Sam banged on the wall again. He was gonna put a dent in that wall one of these days. The only response he got was an increase in volume from Zac’s hundred dollar sound system, a gift from an over indulgent father.
The incessant ringing continued as Sam stormed out of his room, giving Zac’s door a kick for good measure on the way.
“Hello Zac’s answer phone service, how can I help” he answered with a glare at his roommates closed door.
“Oh”. An older female voice came over the line, so not Zac’s new girlfriend, Sam couldn’t remember her name right now, and not Zac’s mum. “Sorry, I was looking for a Sam Winchester?”
It’s time like this when instant suspicion is his first instinct for someone asking for him, Sam thought he will never fully escape his upbringing. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”
“My apologies, I am Betty Miller. I am calling from Child Service in Windom Minnesota. I need to speak with Sam about his brother.”
“Dean?”
“No, sorry. His other brother - Adam?”
**
Sam begged and offered hours of free tutoring to Becky to borrow her car and travel the 1000+ miles from Palo alto to Minnesota.
He had tried every conceivable number he could remember for his dad and Dean, all met with the same annoying voice telling him that ‘this Number is no longer in service’. Bloody typical.
He contemplated trying Bobby’s landline to see if could track them down but he thought ‘fuck em’. They chuck him out don't get in touch, forget he exists, he’s not going to go round grovelling for their attention just because John has abandoned another one of his sons, I mean Geez - him and Adam probably had more in common than anyone.
By the time he had got to the front door of a drab looking children's home in Windom he had exercised his anger out with a carefully regulated diet of blaring music and simmering silence. Now he was just nervous.
Nervous would probably be a massive understatement.
**
The group home he had been directed to was grey and bleak. Memories of those two weeks he and Dean had been held in one surfaced and he held back a shudder.
But at least he had had Dean, at least he knew it was only temporary.
Sam was led up a set of stairs, passing a communal room on the way. Three teenage girls and two boys sat around a TV, their eyes following him as he passed.
Before he knew it he was being pointed towards a closed door at the end of the corridor. He barley registered the social worker walking away, something about ‘give you some time’, before he is standing alone in a hallway.
Sam reached a hand out tentatively to knock on the door, then realised his palms were sweating. Shaking his head in self exasperation Sam wiped them on the front of his jeans.
He’d fought werewolves, ghosts, faced down a multitude of monsters and his father with a hangover. He could meet his long lost half-brother, whose mother had just died, who he has never even heard of before let alone met…
Before he could lose his nerve he knocked on the door.
There was a grunt in response that sounded something like an invitation to enter, so Sam pushed the door open.
The first thing he thought was - Dean.
Because the boy sat in front of him looked the spitting image of a young Dean.
The hair, the skin, the freckles - even the dress sense.
“I told you I’m not up for ‘bonding time’.” A sullen voice broke Sam from his trance.
“Huh.” He answered intelligently.
“I said I don’t want to sit in a white washed room and play twenty year old board games with a bunch of kids I don’t know! So save yourself the trouble and leave me alone.”
“Oh - um. No. That’s not what-“
“Then go away.”
Sam took a deep breath and stepped further into the room.
“I don’t work here. I’m Sam… Sam Winchester.”
There was a brief silence before the boy turned in his chair to properly face him. The eyes are different though, Sam thought.
“Winchester? Like my so called father.”
Sam winced at the brief mention of their shared parent but tried to shove it down. “John Winchester. He’s my dad.”
“Well isn't this a lovely family reunion. I don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out”
With that the teen turned back around. Dismissing Sam. But Sam had never been one to give up so easily.
“Listen Adam-“
“No you listen. My mum is dead. Do you get that? She was my whole family, my only family and she’s gone, so as far as I am concerned you can take whatever speech you’re leading up to, whatever excuses from you old man, and shove it, cos I don’t wanna hear.”
“Your right.”
Sam could see is response was surprising to the younger man before Adam gathered his arrogant mask back up. So much like Dean, Sam could help but think.
“Damn straight I am.”
“There’s nothing I can say that you would want to hear. But- I just found out a few days ago that you existed. I just wanted to meet my little brother.” Sam shrugged.
Adam stared back.
And that had been all Sam had planned when he came here. He had planned to meet the boy, maybe give him his number so he could call if he wanted, maybe extend an invitation to visit on the holidays, bond over their absent parentage. But…
Sam looked around the drab room, the beaten up duffle in the corner, Adam’s defiant face that screamed ‘leave me alone!’ to his eyes that pleaded for a chance.
Sam took a deep breath.
* *
A few hours later Sam was back in his car. A fresh tank of gas… and a grieving teenager in the passenger seat.
The atmosphere in the car on the journey was tense. Awkward. And… very quiet.
Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter and wondered what the hell he had just gotten himself in for.
**
Sam led the way into his and Zac’s apartment, a still silent Adam in tow.
“So… this is us.” He stated once he’d closed the door. They both stood their awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. Sam looking at Adam and Adam looking anywhere but Sam.
Sam cleared his throat. “Right, so, you can put your bag in here.”
Just a short way down the hall and Sam turned the light on to his room, quickly taking in the books littering almost every surface.
“Just ignore the books and stuff, I’ll find somewhere for them later.”
Adam moved past him, and dropped his duffle to the floor before flopping back into the bed, one arm flung over his eyes.
“So, just make yourself comfortable,” said Sam needlessly, “I should probably make you some food. What do you like?” His enquiry was met with silence, “I’ll just see what we have in then, might just be noodles.” Still silence, “Right.. I’ll just…”
Adam still lay on the bed. Ignoring the world so Sam made a hasty exit, resting his head against the door for a few seconds before hurrying to the kitchen.
**
Adam didn’t leave Sam’s room for four days. Didn’t really speak much except for the odd grunt in acknowledgment when Sam delivered him food.
Zac’s response had been the expected.
“What the hell Sam? How the hell do you expect to keep up with your classes with a kid in tow?”
“What did you expect me to do Zac? The kids my brother and he’s got no one.”
“Isn’t that what child services are for - to look after children!”
Sam snorted and levelled a look at his roommate. “Have you ever been in child service’s care?”
“No.”
“Well shut up and make dinner then.”
Sam had turned around to the property listings page in the paper and Zac had slunk off to the kitchen. He hadn’t brought it up again since.
**
On the fourth day Sam looked up from his anthropology textbook to see a silent Adam standing in the archway to the kitchen.
“Adam!” he said, shocked. “Um - hi. Were you hungry?”
Adam stared back for a few moments before shrugging, “I could eat.”
It was the longest string of words that Sam had heard from him since they exited Minnesota and couldn’t contain his pleased grin.
“Alright then, let’s make us some dinner.”
It was going fine until Zac got home.
Adam hadn’t exactly said much but he had cut some peppers and had watched over the boiling pot of rice.
When Zac came into the kitchen he stopped at the sight of Adam. “I see the kid decided to join us.”
“Leave it Zac.”
“No - I was beginning to think he was a figment of your imagination.”
Sam growled and spun on Zac, who looked shocked, even a little afraid. “God Zac! Is this how you think I would act if Becca needed a place to stay? The kids family, so back off!”
Nobody seemed to notice Adam seething in the corner. “You’re not my family.” He whispered.
Both Zac and Sam turned towards him.
“You’re not my family. You are nothing to me!” Adam stepped away from the counter, “My mum was my family and she’s dead! I am alone! I don’t want to be here, I want to go home. No one asked me what I wanted, they just wanted shot of me so palmed me off to the first possible person they could. Give you a few days and you’ll be the same.”
“Adam that’s not true!” Sam started, his hand held out in front of him like he was trying to calm a startled horse, “I understand what you’re feeling -“
“No! No you don’t! You couldn’t possibly understand what this feels like. Your mother died before you were even old enough to understand! She might as well have never existed! You don’t even remember her!”
Adam was prepared for many reactions to his outburst, what he was not expecting was for Sam to look as if he had been punched in the stomach and consequently wanted to throw up.
They all stood in the silence of the kitchen for a moment, the pot on the cooker over boiling.
Suddenly Adam broke the moment in a flurry of motion, he grabbed his duffle he kept full inside his bedroom and slammed the front door behind him on the way out.
*
Adam walked and didn’t stop walking until he reached the bus depot on the other side of town. By the time he got there and sunk to a bench his anger and indignation had faded, replaced with a bone deep ache of what he thought was probably loneliness.
His mother was dead, his father didn’t want to know and he was stuck with a half-brother he had only just met, moved away from all his friends to a place where the closest people his age were freshman.
He just wanted his mum. He didn’t care if it made him pathetic or a baby he just wanted her. Wanted her arms to surround him and her smell… he was starting to forget all those little things. He didn’t know which loss weighed more heavily on his heart.
Adam didn’t know how long he had sat there… long enough for him to start to feel the nights chill through his thin jacket and his tears to have dried to salt tracks on his cheeks… but he was startled out of his daze by a large jacket coming to rest on his shoulders.
He looked up in time to see Sam perch on the bench next to him.
“God.” He groaned, unconsciously tugging the jacket closer around himself, “Do you never give up.”
Sam offered him a wan smile. “Nope.” He stated, going back to look at the quiet bustle of people around the bus stop.
Sam let the silence drift on a for a little while, until Adam started squirming in his seat
“You are my family Adam. One thing I learnt from being a Winchester is that we look after family. So I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And I know you’re sad and hurting right now, and I get it. But we need to work together here yeah?”
Sam looked at Adam with eyes so round and hopeful that Adam couldn’t hold back his reluctant nod.
Sam’s smile widened. “Alright then. Deal?”
Adam eyed the hand that was thrust towards him, then eyed his duffle at his feet, then the bus that had just pulled up into the depot, then back to the hand again.
He sighed and let his hand bridge the gap.
Next Part
Rating: I would say PG-13. Nothing too bad except some language (bad boys!)
Warnings: um, bad language, a few F-Bombs.
Spoilers: If you know who Adam is then you're good.
Summary: written for a prompt by captclooless at the ohsam fic challenge: Adam's mom is killed (by MoTW?), and the only contactable family number is Sam. First shocked, but accepting, Sam takes on the role as older brother and caretaker with pride and worms his way into Kid!Adam's heart. But going to school, to work, and making enough money to support two people is hard to do and after a while, he works himself into a fever big enough to warrant a hospital visit. Click here for full prompt.
A/N: Holy hell! This was supposed to be a quick taste at writting a proper prompted Supernatural fic. But then the boys kept wanting to bond! And it kept going and now it's over 13K!! Oops!. Oh well.
Sam tried to concentrate on the words blurring in front of his face. He rubbed his hands down his face again pulling himself together. He'd got two sentences into the next paragraph when the pounding of a bass beat startled him from his stupor.
Sam barley contained his growl before banging on his and Zac’s shared wall
“Oi Zachary! Keep it down, trying to study in here!”
There was no reply but the bass did recede a little which Sam counted as a win at the moment.
“Thank you!” He called out.
He knew he was being, what Dean had lovingly called, a bitch, but he had a headache, had only coffee running through his systems and a quiz in less than 24 hours he had to cram for.
Once the beats had reversed to a quite calming thrum in the back ground, Sam turned back to the text in front of him on Native American mythology. He had started it as a bit of an inside joke between himself... And well himself since Dean wasn't around to find it ironic. It turned out to be one of his toughest courses and the reason he had only had 10 hours sleep over the last few days. Well that and the party Brady had dragged him to.
Sam had a blissful 5 minutes of quite reading where he actually absorbed more than two sentences when the shrill ringing of their dorm phone rang through his room.
Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should give this up for done for the night and try again in the morning
“Zac!” He called when there was no movement from the room next door and the phone carried on wailing.
Zac was forever getting phone calls at all times of day, early morning calls on the weekend from an over protective mother, Sunday afternoon calls from a dotty grandfather who chatted for at least an hour about Zac’s studies as Zac listened half-heartedly whilst channel hopping, calls from his sister, Becky, every other day inviting him to this party or that, which Sam was inevitably dragged along to no matter how hard he argued that he had an essay due.
Sam guessed this was probably Zac’s latest girlfriend, demanding he come over for pizza.
The phone continued to ring and there was no movement from Zac’s room. Sam banged on the wall again. He was gonna put a dent in that wall one of these days. The only response he got was an increase in volume from Zac’s hundred dollar sound system, a gift from an over indulgent father.
The incessant ringing continued as Sam stormed out of his room, giving Zac’s door a kick for good measure on the way.
“Hello Zac’s answer phone service, how can I help” he answered with a glare at his roommates closed door.
“Oh”. An older female voice came over the line, so not Zac’s new girlfriend, Sam couldn’t remember her name right now, and not Zac’s mum. “Sorry, I was looking for a Sam Winchester?”
It’s time like this when instant suspicion is his first instinct for someone asking for him, Sam thought he will never fully escape his upbringing. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”
“My apologies, I am Betty Miller. I am calling from Child Service in Windom Minnesota. I need to speak with Sam about his brother.”
“Dean?”
“No, sorry. His other brother - Adam?”
**
Sam begged and offered hours of free tutoring to Becky to borrow her car and travel the 1000+ miles from Palo alto to Minnesota.
He had tried every conceivable number he could remember for his dad and Dean, all met with the same annoying voice telling him that ‘this Number is no longer in service’. Bloody typical.
He contemplated trying Bobby’s landline to see if could track them down but he thought ‘fuck em’. They chuck him out don't get in touch, forget he exists, he’s not going to go round grovelling for their attention just because John has abandoned another one of his sons, I mean Geez - him and Adam probably had more in common than anyone.
By the time he had got to the front door of a drab looking children's home in Windom he had exercised his anger out with a carefully regulated diet of blaring music and simmering silence. Now he was just nervous.
Nervous would probably be a massive understatement.
**
The group home he had been directed to was grey and bleak. Memories of those two weeks he and Dean had been held in one surfaced and he held back a shudder.
But at least he had had Dean, at least he knew it was only temporary.
Sam was led up a set of stairs, passing a communal room on the way. Three teenage girls and two boys sat around a TV, their eyes following him as he passed.
Before he knew it he was being pointed towards a closed door at the end of the corridor. He barley registered the social worker walking away, something about ‘give you some time’, before he is standing alone in a hallway.
Sam reached a hand out tentatively to knock on the door, then realised his palms were sweating. Shaking his head in self exasperation Sam wiped them on the front of his jeans.
He’d fought werewolves, ghosts, faced down a multitude of monsters and his father with a hangover. He could meet his long lost half-brother, whose mother had just died, who he has never even heard of before let alone met…
Before he could lose his nerve he knocked on the door.
There was a grunt in response that sounded something like an invitation to enter, so Sam pushed the door open.
The first thing he thought was - Dean.
Because the boy sat in front of him looked the spitting image of a young Dean.
The hair, the skin, the freckles - even the dress sense.
“I told you I’m not up for ‘bonding time’.” A sullen voice broke Sam from his trance.
“Huh.” He answered intelligently.
“I said I don’t want to sit in a white washed room and play twenty year old board games with a bunch of kids I don’t know! So save yourself the trouble and leave me alone.”
“Oh - um. No. That’s not what-“
“Then go away.”
Sam took a deep breath and stepped further into the room.
“I don’t work here. I’m Sam… Sam Winchester.”
There was a brief silence before the boy turned in his chair to properly face him. The eyes are different though, Sam thought.
“Winchester? Like my so called father.”
Sam winced at the brief mention of their shared parent but tried to shove it down. “John Winchester. He’s my dad.”
“Well isn't this a lovely family reunion. I don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out”
With that the teen turned back around. Dismissing Sam. But Sam had never been one to give up so easily.
“Listen Adam-“
“No you listen. My mum is dead. Do you get that? She was my whole family, my only family and she’s gone, so as far as I am concerned you can take whatever speech you’re leading up to, whatever excuses from you old man, and shove it, cos I don’t wanna hear.”
“Your right.”
Sam could see is response was surprising to the younger man before Adam gathered his arrogant mask back up. So much like Dean, Sam could help but think.
“Damn straight I am.”
“There’s nothing I can say that you would want to hear. But- I just found out a few days ago that you existed. I just wanted to meet my little brother.” Sam shrugged.
Adam stared back.
And that had been all Sam had planned when he came here. He had planned to meet the boy, maybe give him his number so he could call if he wanted, maybe extend an invitation to visit on the holidays, bond over their absent parentage. But…
Sam looked around the drab room, the beaten up duffle in the corner, Adam’s defiant face that screamed ‘leave me alone!’ to his eyes that pleaded for a chance.
Sam took a deep breath.
* *
A few hours later Sam was back in his car. A fresh tank of gas… and a grieving teenager in the passenger seat.
The atmosphere in the car on the journey was tense. Awkward. And… very quiet.
Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter and wondered what the hell he had just gotten himself in for.
**
Sam led the way into his and Zac’s apartment, a still silent Adam in tow.
“So… this is us.” He stated once he’d closed the door. They both stood their awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. Sam looking at Adam and Adam looking anywhere but Sam.
Sam cleared his throat. “Right, so, you can put your bag in here.”
Just a short way down the hall and Sam turned the light on to his room, quickly taking in the books littering almost every surface.
“Just ignore the books and stuff, I’ll find somewhere for them later.”
Adam moved past him, and dropped his duffle to the floor before flopping back into the bed, one arm flung over his eyes.
“So, just make yourself comfortable,” said Sam needlessly, “I should probably make you some food. What do you like?” His enquiry was met with silence, “I’ll just see what we have in then, might just be noodles.” Still silence, “Right.. I’ll just…”
Adam still lay on the bed. Ignoring the world so Sam made a hasty exit, resting his head against the door for a few seconds before hurrying to the kitchen.
**
Adam didn’t leave Sam’s room for four days. Didn’t really speak much except for the odd grunt in acknowledgment when Sam delivered him food.
Zac’s response had been the expected.
“What the hell Sam? How the hell do you expect to keep up with your classes with a kid in tow?”
“What did you expect me to do Zac? The kids my brother and he’s got no one.”
“Isn’t that what child services are for - to look after children!”
Sam snorted and levelled a look at his roommate. “Have you ever been in child service’s care?”
“No.”
“Well shut up and make dinner then.”
Sam had turned around to the property listings page in the paper and Zac had slunk off to the kitchen. He hadn’t brought it up again since.
**
On the fourth day Sam looked up from his anthropology textbook to see a silent Adam standing in the archway to the kitchen.
“Adam!” he said, shocked. “Um - hi. Were you hungry?”
Adam stared back for a few moments before shrugging, “I could eat.”
It was the longest string of words that Sam had heard from him since they exited Minnesota and couldn’t contain his pleased grin.
“Alright then, let’s make us some dinner.”
It was going fine until Zac got home.
Adam hadn’t exactly said much but he had cut some peppers and had watched over the boiling pot of rice.
When Zac came into the kitchen he stopped at the sight of Adam. “I see the kid decided to join us.”
“Leave it Zac.”
“No - I was beginning to think he was a figment of your imagination.”
Sam growled and spun on Zac, who looked shocked, even a little afraid. “God Zac! Is this how you think I would act if Becca needed a place to stay? The kids family, so back off!”
Nobody seemed to notice Adam seething in the corner. “You’re not my family.” He whispered.
Both Zac and Sam turned towards him.
“You’re not my family. You are nothing to me!” Adam stepped away from the counter, “My mum was my family and she’s dead! I am alone! I don’t want to be here, I want to go home. No one asked me what I wanted, they just wanted shot of me so palmed me off to the first possible person they could. Give you a few days and you’ll be the same.”
“Adam that’s not true!” Sam started, his hand held out in front of him like he was trying to calm a startled horse, “I understand what you’re feeling -“
“No! No you don’t! You couldn’t possibly understand what this feels like. Your mother died before you were even old enough to understand! She might as well have never existed! You don’t even remember her!”
Adam was prepared for many reactions to his outburst, what he was not expecting was for Sam to look as if he had been punched in the stomach and consequently wanted to throw up.
They all stood in the silence of the kitchen for a moment, the pot on the cooker over boiling.
Suddenly Adam broke the moment in a flurry of motion, he grabbed his duffle he kept full inside his bedroom and slammed the front door behind him on the way out.
*
Adam walked and didn’t stop walking until he reached the bus depot on the other side of town. By the time he got there and sunk to a bench his anger and indignation had faded, replaced with a bone deep ache of what he thought was probably loneliness.
His mother was dead, his father didn’t want to know and he was stuck with a half-brother he had only just met, moved away from all his friends to a place where the closest people his age were freshman.
He just wanted his mum. He didn’t care if it made him pathetic or a baby he just wanted her. Wanted her arms to surround him and her smell… he was starting to forget all those little things. He didn’t know which loss weighed more heavily on his heart.
Adam didn’t know how long he had sat there… long enough for him to start to feel the nights chill through his thin jacket and his tears to have dried to salt tracks on his cheeks… but he was startled out of his daze by a large jacket coming to rest on his shoulders.
He looked up in time to see Sam perch on the bench next to him.
“God.” He groaned, unconsciously tugging the jacket closer around himself, “Do you never give up.”
Sam offered him a wan smile. “Nope.” He stated, going back to look at the quiet bustle of people around the bus stop.
Sam let the silence drift on a for a little while, until Adam started squirming in his seat
“You are my family Adam. One thing I learnt from being a Winchester is that we look after family. So I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And I know you’re sad and hurting right now, and I get it. But we need to work together here yeah?”
Sam looked at Adam with eyes so round and hopeful that Adam couldn’t hold back his reluctant nod.
Sam’s smile widened. “Alright then. Deal?”
Adam eyed the hand that was thrust towards him, then eyed his duffle at his feet, then the bus that had just pulled up into the depot, then back to the hand again.
He sighed and let his hand bridge the gap.
Next Part