"This is sexist."
"This is maths."
Our childhood was never normal. I'm an Alexander. The Hunter's life was never a choice. I needed to learn what was out there because Bobby wasn't always going to be there to protect me or my sister. I shaped myself into a protector which put me onto the path of the Winchesters. Just as much the Hunter family as I. Fought together, trained together, raised together. John Winchester never treated me anything less than his own. Suppose you could say I liked to think I knew him to at least some degree.
Although staring at the framed photo of John with his arm around Adam at a baseball game... my brows furrowing grudgingly. He never did anything like that with us. Whilst I spot Sam flinch my attention lifts to settle carefully on Dean. He did everything for his Dad- that was never a secret to me. So I'm not surprised to see his lip curling resentfully no matter the effort he puts into concealing it. He spent all this time here going out of his way to see Adam... but for any of us he could barely pick up the phone. That kind of bitterness seems to simmer under the cracks of Dean's masked façade. Gripping the frame, Dean stammers utterly astonished "He took you to a baseball game?"
"Yeah, when I turned fourteen" Adam motions to the frame fondly "Dad was around for a few of my birthdays."
Arching my brow I flicked my gaze to Sam. Catching my unsure look, Sam flips through John's journal he's brought in with us "September 29th. One word. Minnesota." Adam does a double-take but he is the only one. We all know what that means. John left to come here and be with his other boy.
"He-", Dean recaptures my attention as his words seem to buffer. All of the hesitations are gone seeing that photo. Any sliver of doubt he'd been clinging to go as it crashes down his father had a secret son with another woman. The second stretching, Dean baffled questions again "He took you to a freakin baseball game?"
"Why?" Adam obliviously bypasses the question with a smile "What he does for yours?"
"Oh", Dean does a poor job at brazenly waving away the question like we got it just as good.
That's a lie of the century.
"Hunting", I cut in trying to draw Adam's attention off Dean "Just... hunting."
"Like birds? Deer?"
Not entirely sure how to honestly white lie myself out of that question m, I divert "You called your Dad cause you said your Mom went missing?" His mood dimming, Adam nods. "How long has she been gone?"
Without even thinking, Adam tells me "Three days."
As if it's a difficult question, Dean fails to hide his grown annoyance when he asks "Who was the last person to see her?"
Motioning to the right, Adam answers "Mr. Abinanti across the road. Our neighbor. Saw her come home Tuesday night but never went to work on Wednesday." Noticing Dean gazing over Adam's shoulder I see he's looking at more photo's with the pretty blonde who must be Adam's mother. His arms around her the pair are smiling wide. Happy. The happiness that has Dean squaring his shoulders sharply bad. His chest slowly rising and falling.
"You call the police?"
"Mom's supervisor at the hospital did", I hear Adam inform Sam "Then I drove down here as fast as I could." It's only when Adam's voice wavers that my attention tears itself off Dean. Guilt twisting his features, Adam mutters gravely "I should have been here."
After a moment, Dean's asking "What'd the cops say?"
"They searched the house" Adam hesitantly gestures around "They didn't find anything. She wouldn't leave without telling anyone- like she's just dropped off the face of the Earth you know?"
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Quietly I wander down the hallway of the home. Framed photos and fresh-pressed linins. Folded towels and clean floors. I'll admit it's almost amusing to imagine John in a floral blue lace bed.
Almost because I find myself leaning in the doorway watching Dean stare at more pictures that seem to coat this house from its floorboards to the nails in its shackled roof. "You know it's getting easier to understand why you resented the man", Dean mutters amongst the quiet I leave us in, staring at the frame as if he can make it catch alight. Quietly I roll my lip. It's not exactly the same circumstance but I can see what Dean implying. Wandering around the bed, Dean catches my eye and motions back out in the direction of the living room "Bobby ever take you or Katie to a game?"
"Katie at a baseball game?" I laugh at the mere thought "I would've paid Bobby to drag her to one just so I got to watch the ordeal." Dean's lip turns up at the idea. She was precious like that. When the smile lowers, I reach for his hand in the doorframe. "It's not always about what parents spend on you", I softly rub my thumb over the top of his hand "It's about the effort they put in."
"Yeah", Dean grumbles, his gaze lowered on our hands between us "Adam got an arena baseball game. Sam and I got motels and monsters."
"He taught you how to protect yourselves", I correct Dean with a small dismissive shake of my head. Nodding out towards the living room, I ask "You think Adam has any idea what actually goes on? Has any clue how to even shoot a gun?"
"Everyone's shot a gun-"
"He lives in Minnesota", I blatantly remind Dean "Come on-" My remark is cut short when something catches my eye. Peering around Dean my eyes zone in on very wide scratches I don't doubt had been made by fingers. Scratches that lead right underneath the large bed.
Dean following my line of sight walks back through the house "Sam!"
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"This is sexist."
"This is maths", motioning towards the small vent at our feet the scratch marks lead into, Dean argues "Tiny person fits in the tiny hole."
"Dean we're talking about me here- not you."
"Both of you enough", Sam cuts in. Quietly I give Dean a look past him. Daring Dean to keep the adamant argument. "Eleanor get in the vent." My perplexed reaction catching his eye Sam pulls back his smile, Dean clapping his hands with a boisterous laugh.
Muttering a mouthful of colorful curses I aggressively yank off my cargo jacket and smack it into Dean with a whack. "Whoa", Adam blurts out, backing off when I pull out my handgun "What- why do you have a gun?"
"License to carry", I wave off Adam's concern with the lie I've been telling since I was eight. Snatching the torch from Dean when he offers it, I crouch to get a look inside the vent. When it looks clear I swallow the anxious lump in my throat. Confined spaces. I gotta admit I'm not a fan. You can't exactly fight something off when you can't move. "Next time", twisting myself to easily slide in, I send the brothers a hard glare "We're playing for this."
Scoffing, Dean remarks blatantly "Fat chance sparky."
Unable to prolong it I scoot headfirst into the vent. Trying to make as little noise as possible I find myself relieved knowing this isn't a two-way vent just yet. The last thing I need or want is something creeping up behind me. Gun in my dominant hand I shine my torch along with the old metal vent I push myself along. Although approaching the end I hesitate when my shining light catches something crimson staining the metal. The thought of the blood sticking to my conscious I feel alone thought taking over. Something's been in here. The blood smearing around the edge of the cross rod I pause at the end. My heart thumping against my ribs so hard I think it's going to burst. Tightening the grip I keep on the gun, inch to the side, and see the vent clear and leading into another room. Shifting in the duct, I count myself down before pushing off my boot so fast a squeak echo's from the force.
Shoving myself around the vent corner my eyes widen at the sight of bloodied mangled flesh.
Not a body. Just loose, messy hair is woven flesh. Scrunching my nose I let my hammering heart slow its pace as it dawns on me whatever took Adam's mother... it came through this way. Maybe tore her up a little in its haste to get her out.
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"So John comes here 1990 after seventeen bodies are recovered from an abandoned shed that fall into line with seventeen grave robberies." Flicking at the tabs in John Winchester's journal, I pace back and forth between Sam sat at the off-center table and Dean cleaning his shotgun on our bed. With a wave of my hand, I understand "Now we have two missing persons- did whatever John was hunting just level up to fresh meat?"
"If dad passed through here on a hunt", Dean hardly spares me. Cleaning his shotgun "He would've killed the thing."
"Not unless he just locked it up", I argue the point, flashing the torn out pages to the boys "Suppose we won't ever know-"
Our motel door booming open with a bang my brow arches to see Adam storming inside "Who the hell are you?" Pausing my stride I don't miss Dean flipping the gun cloth over his gun with a subtle glance to me. But I'm not watching because Adam looks... not great. When none of us answer, Adam, sets out "My house is a crime scene, my mom's probably dead and you three- you tell me to call the cops but you gotta bail before they show?" I'll admit he's got an excellent point at how suspicious that looks. Receiving no response, Adam blatantly motions to me "Cops didn't know where to look for my Mom but you did Eleanor- what mechanic carries a gun?" I remain stubbornly silent. There's a reason John keeps him unaware and out of the game. He was protecting him from this life. I'm not going to be the one who feeds the kid to the wolves.
"We're Hunters."
"Sammy."
"He deserves to know", Sam argues back at Dean.
As if finally finding the trios weak point, Adam presses "What do you mean hunters?"
With a tired breath, I shuffle over to the door and make sure it's locked "Take a seat kiddo. This isn't going to be easy to hear."
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Remarkably Adam takes the information rather well. Just silence as the guilty party explains what we do. Quietly I lurk in the bathroom doorway as Sam sits across from him on the bed. Dean having taken a seat at the table looking rather tiredly annoyed with his brother.
"Okay", Adam mumbles "Basically you're saying that every movie monster and every nightmare I've ever had as a kid is real?"
"Godzilla's just a movie."
Ignoring Dean's unhelpful comment, Sam explains calmly to Adam "We hunt them. So does Eleanor and so did Dad."
With a deep inhale, Adam breathes "Okay."
"Okay?" Dean cuts through the quiet "That's it?"
"What am I supposed to say?"
"That we're liars, That we're crazy" Dean taps his hand pointedly against the table "Nobody just says "Okay."
"You're my brothers", Adam glances between them assuredly "You're telling me the truth right?"
"Yeah."
"Then I believe you."
When Dean's unbelievable attention flickers to me in the doorway Adam follows his gaze. Noticing the unspoken communication. Shifting my weight, I agree "Normally there's a more... eccentric response to being told the boogie monster is actually under your bed."
"Well we're family", Adam juts his hand to Sam who explained this to him "I believe you."
Nodding along I drop my gaze to my boots. Nudging Dean with mine when I feel his stare unmoved and glued on me. "Now what took my Mom?"
"Somethings stealing bodies both living and dead", I inform Adam surely "We're working on it. Kind of a longer list than you would think."
"So my Mom could still be alive?" Rather consistently our attention either flickers away for drops to our shoes. There are never any guarantees. These things tend to flip on their heads faster than anything I've seen. Everything could be skating past fine but a sudden turn for the worse... it's never consistent. We can't save everyone. We can only save who we can. Left in weighted silence Adam mumbles to himself under the gravity of his situation "How can I help?"
Scoffing, I abruptly disagree "No way." When Adam looks like he wants to fight me on it, I tell him "It's not a negotiable kid."
"I'm sorry and I mean no offense", Adam shifts on our bed to challenge me across the room "But you cannot boss me around. You're not my sister-"
"She's family and saving you from getting yourself killed", Dean interjects as I narrow my gaze on Adam across the room. Thumb jabbed back towards me, Dean sharply informs him patronizingly "No offense but if she's saying you're not helping then you're not helping."
Spun around on the bed to look at us, Sam argues "What? El's calling the shots now? Since when?"
"Since she's thinking clearer than you."
Not appreciating being left out of the decision, Adam arches up "This thing killed my Mom. If you're hunting it I want in."
"Adam we're not talking about a stray deer", I try to get it through his head "You don't just take these things down with a gunshot."
"Guys look maybe-"
"Maybe what?" Dean leans to scrutinize Sam closer.
Without caving, Sam curtly reminds him "He just lost his mother. Maybe we can understand what that feels like."
"Why do you think Dad never told us about the kid?" Dean jabs his hand over to where I hold the journal dangling from my fingers "Why do you think he ripped out the pages?"
"Because-"
"Because he was protecting him!"
Locking his jaw, Sam keeps his tone low when he reminds "Dad's dead Dean."
"That doesn't matter!" Dean doesn't seem to think the same way. Frustrated, Dean tries to get it through to Sam motioning between us "He didn't want Adam to have our lives! We're gonna respect his wishes!"
"Do I get a say in this?"
"No!" the three of us sharply chorus.
Silence settling over us Dean storms across the room to snatch up his jacket "Babysit the kid."
"Where are you going?"
Swiping his keys with a clash, Dean yells back at Sam "I'm going out!"
With a bang that leaves us in silence, I find myself rubbing my fingers around my temple. Fighting. It's all we seem to be doing. Just as I shove myself from the bathroom doorframe, Sam voices quietly "El-"
"I know", I grab my jacket from behind Sam on the bed, agreeing "I've got him." Before disappearing through the doorway, I throw back over my shoulder to Adam "Welcome to the family."