Supernatural One-shots

Their Little Half-Brother's Back

It had been over a month since you and the Winchesters have rescued their younger half-brother, Adam. It took a few days to get him out of the box and when you did, you found that he'd changed.

Now, Adam had a tough exteria, he used to flinch away from things, but Hell had made him hard, he was serious, talked little, but when he did, he swore a lot, glared at his brother's for not helping him. But you, he didn't glare at, he did swear at you, but he was generally nicer to you, he seemed to be more appreciative towards you, as if he understood you, why you hadn't rescued him earlier. Yet, you still couldn't do anything with him.

You still attempted to coax him, attempt to fix his relationship with his brothers- even if it was just getting him to say hello to them, that would've been a start. He wouldn't speak much in front of them, he'd talk to you in private, but still only short conversations.

Right now you were attempting to have a conversation with him, which wasn't going well.

"Your brothers couldn't risk lettin' Lucifer out!" You argued back at him angrily. Conversations with him were going no where.

"Huh, really? Well, bullshit! Where's Lucifer now then, eh? In the fucking cage? No!" The answers to his questions really didn't help my side of the argument, as Lucifer is out of the cage and is now one of the highest problems on our list.

"God damnit Adam, stop it, just stop it." You rise. "I've tried for weeks to get you to talk to 'em, say hello! But you won't acknowledge 'em unless you're cursin' at 'em. Y'know what, I'm done tryin', solve it your-damn-self." You turn around and walk out his bedroom, slamming the door after you. You head to the kitchen and get out a beer from the fridge.

"You alright?" Dean asks, holding out a hand for a beer, you pass him one.

"Do I look alright? I've tried with him Dean, nothin' is workin'. I know he's seemed to have been treatin' me nicer than you and all, but, I'm out." You say, taking a gulp of your beer, after opening it.

"Just give him more time." Dean says attempting to apologise for his brother's behaviour.

"Okay, he can have time, I ain't helpin' him though." You take your bottle with you to your bedroom, laying down on your bed, shoving earphones in your ears and listening to some music.

You hear a knock on your door, so you take out your earphones and look at Adam, angrily.

"Yes?" You ask, your voice clearly stating that you wanted him out.

"I'm sorry." He frowns, sitting on the edge of your bed. "It's His fault... Lucifer, he did things to me...and I always told myself that my brother's would come save me, kill the son-of-a-bitch who kept torturing me. Save me from my pain, but no one did, until last month." He looked at you then, water filling his eyes, tears starting to fall.

"See we're bloody gettin' somewhere! Why ignore your brothers, why don't you share your feelin's with 'em?"

"I thought that they should pay instead, I was planning something... I don't know, I stopped. I didn't think." He puts his head in his hands.You place a hand on his back, comfortingly.

"Well you now know what to do with your brothers, talk to them, tell 'em how you feel." He shakes his head,  tears dropping down his face, it actually looked like Hell had effected him badly, caused him pain and grief.

"What if I've ignored them to much? What if they won't take my apology."

"They will." Is all you say giving him a brief hug before sending him to the boys. You left him to apologise himself, let him do it from his heart. You knew the boys would accept the apology, they'd been to Hell, they knew what it was like,  they'd suffered too. You all had.

After an hour our so, you head to the boys, hoping everything was fixed and they'd patched their relationship into something like friendship.

Suddenly, you hear two, worrisome gun shots. You take off, flying in the direction of the bangs. You gasp at what you see. Dean and Sam lay sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from their chests, both heaving in breaths, you look to your right to see Adam holding a gun, his hands shaking, his face held fear.

"Wow-wow-wow, Adam drop the gun, slowly." He turns to you and points the gun at your chest.

"I'm sorry." He releases the trigger and the bullet flys into you, forcing you back in a stagger, your clothes turning red, as you scream no.

Laughing sounds as you look down at the red paint, paintball bullets. You look up and give the boy's the evil eye before storming away in anger, torment and there was a little laughter inside, but you didn't release it. Not when you thought they were dead. You were dead.