The Perfect Crime [ABANDONED]

Nightmares

Adam was vaguely aware that he was dreaming. He was sitting in the dark. His body hurt all over, especially his head. He rubbed at his forehead with his hands and dried blood flaked off onto his fingers. He wasn't even sure how long he had been in the basement. When he, his brother, and the Winchesters had been with Alistair, it was one of their foster father's favorite punishments. Adam had spent a lot of time in that basement, but all that time he spent in the dark was time he wasn't getting hit. 

He was starting to doze off again when the door opened, flooding the dark space with flourescent white light. Adam stumbled to his feet, weak from exhaution, hunger, and dehydration. He shielded his eyes from the light and waited for them to adjust. He was hoping it was Michael. His older brother would bring Adam food and water on the rare occassion that Alistair left the house. Michael would always take the blame, and the subsequent beating, if Alistair caught Adam with food. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't Michael. 

"Get up here," Alistair growled. Adam climbed the stairs as fast as he could manage, considering he now was on the verge of passing out. All of his thoughts about food and water and sleep evaporated as he saw Michael, bloody and holding his limp right arm to his body. "Did you learn your lesson, Michael?" Alistair said. Michael looked at the floor, and Adam willed his brother not to look at Alistair. He knew his brother. He knew how stupid he was. 

Michael looked up for the floor, blue-gray eyes, the color of steel, the color of the sky on a rainy day, filled with uncontrolable rage. The fires of hate raged in Michael's eyes, and his glare carried more weight than the sky on Atlas's shoulders. 

"Fuck you," Michael growled. Alistair clicked his tongue at Michael and grabbed Adam by the back of his neck. Adam tried to struggle, but he was so weak. When was the last time he ate? He couldn't seem to remember what food even tasted like, even though it could have only been two or three days. 

"You want to try that again?" Alistair asked, pushing Adam to the floor. He hit the title like a sack of potatoes, weak and limp and powerless on the ground. He tried to climb to his feet, but Alistair kicked him hard in the stomach. Adam crumpled to the ground. 

"Stay the fuck away from my brother," Michael said. "You want to hurt someone, hurt me, not him. Don't you dare touch him," Michael continued, voice barely audible he was so quiet at the end. Adam tried to get up when Alistair grabbed Michael. Alistair didn't have to do much, considering Michael's shoulder was already dislocated. Adam could hear himself screaming, begging Alistair to leave Michael alone, crying for it to stop....

"Adam? Hey, buddy, I'm here," Michael said. Adam woke up drenched in sweat to the sound of someone crying out. He realized that someone was him. He took a couple of gasping breaths, eager for air. He collapsed against his brother, trying to stop himself from crying. It was his third nightmare that night. They had gotten worse since the shooting. His first night home and he had already woken up the entire house three times screaming his head off. 

"You okay?" Dean asked from the doorway, rubbing his tired eyes, hair sticking in different directions. 

"Yeah, he's okay, go back to bed," Michael said. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at Adam in concern. Sam had nightmares too, but he usually woke up crying. Not screaming like some psychopath. "How about you switch me rooms for tonight, Sam. You can sleep in my bed." Sam nodded and patted Adam's shoulder before dragging himself to his room. 

"I'm okay," Adam whispered. He was leaning against Michael, who was rubbing his back soothingly. Adam always figured if he had known his mom, she would have done that. He cuddled into his brother's side. 

"I know, Adam. It was just a dream," Michael said. Except it hadn't just been a dream. It wasn't like his brain was making up things that didn't happen. He was having nightmares of his memories. And he couldn't make them stop. "You want to go back to sleep?"