Work Text:
July 2006
Clint walked up to the front desk of the hospital, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. He still didn’t know what was wrong with his father and brothers.
“I’m Clint Barton,” Clint said when he reached the desk.
The receptionist raised her head to look at him and nodded after a moment.
“Mr. McGillicutty and one of his sons are awake, currently,” she informed him.
“And the other son?” Clint asked her, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Dad and Sammy were awake, that meant they were okay. But Dean…
She looked past him at Laura and Adam, who had matching anxious expressions written all over their faces. Looking back at Clint, she offered him a sad smile.
“He’s currently in a coma.” She scribbled something on a small piece of notepaper and handed it to him. “You all can go visit them, if you promise not to make too much of a ruckus.”
“Thanks,” Laura called to her as the three of them headed towards John’s room.
Clint had a bone to pick with his father. As he walked into John’s hospital room, his wife and his half-brother trailing after him, John’s head turned towards him. A tired smile crossed his face when he saw his adopted son.
“Clint,” he began, but stopped short when he saw the blond teenage boy enter the room. “Adam?” His eyes were wide, and he looked towards Clint again. “How?”
The archer crossed his arms over his chest, glaring slightly at his father.
“I had a case in Wisdom. Kid’s mom got taken by a ‘non-human entity’.” He said. “I asked about the dad, and guess what he said?”
John closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before looking at his sons and daughter-in-law.
“I didn’t want him to have this life,” he all but whispered. “I didn’t want you or your brothers to have it either, Clint, but it was your mother that demon killed.”
“And you couldn’t tell me that I had brothers?” Adam cried. “That I had family other than you and Mom?” The poor boy’s face looked absolutely heart broken and betrayed, and Clint felt somewhat the same.
John opened his mouth, weather to apologize or to argue, Clint didn’t know, because he never actually spoke. Instead, he stared behind the group of people, right at the doorway where Sam had appeared with a duffle bag.
“Sam,” Clint breathed, pulling his much taller little brother into a bone-crushing hug. Adam stood awkwardly off to the side, watching the exchange with an unreadable expression on his face.
“What’s going on?” Sam grunted as his oldest brother released him. “Hey, Laura,”
Laura smiled tiredly at him.
“Hey, sweetie.”
John’s eyes darted between the three of his four sons, and he sighed after a moment.
“Adam is your half-brother,” he said, gesturing towards the boy with the hand that didn’t have IV’s attached to it.
Sam did an impressive double take, which would have been completely hilarious if the situation wasn’t so dire. His expression went from shock to anger to shock again, and finally to something that wasn’t so easy to identify.
“Oh.” He managed. “Hi.”
Adam watched him for signs of anger towards him, the intruding bastard brother, but upon seeing none, he hesitantly stepped closer.
“Hey,” he said.
Sam smiled down at him before looking at his father, his face deadly serious. He tossed the bag that he’d been holding onto the bed with a thump.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he growled at John, and Adam took a step back in surprise.
John looked at him.
“About Adam? I-“
“No,” Sam cut him off. “Not about Adam. That stuff from Bobby, you don’t use it to ward of a demon, you use it to summon one. You’re planning on bringing the demon here, aren’t you?” His eyes flashed with anger. “Having some stupid macho showdown?”
John’s face was set, and when he spoke to his son, it was as if they were the only two people in the room.
“I have a plan, Sam.”
“Oh geeze,” Clint muttered. This was going to turn into a full-out fight between his brother and his father, which was decidedly not a good way to welcome Adam to the family.
“That’s exactly my point! Dean is dying, and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!”
Clint leaned towards his wife.
“Uh, take Adam into Dean’s room, please?” he asked her, and she nodded, taking Adam and leading him out of the room.
“Do not tell me how I feel!” his father yelled back at Sam. “I am doing this for Dean.”
Clint knew from experience – several years of it, they even argued when Sammy was little – that once Sam and his dad got to arguing, hardly anything could make them stop, so he supposed he’d just have to wait it out. He wanted to go into the other room to check on Dean, but someone had to be here to make sure that his father and his brother didn’t shoot each other.
“How?” Sam shouted. “How is revenge going to help him? You’re not thinking about anybody but yourself, it’s the same selfish obsession!”
“You know, it’s funny, I thought hit was your obsession, too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt.” John retorted. “Now if you’d killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened.”
“It was possessing you, Dad, I would have killed you, too.”
Well. That was some new information. Clint opened his mouth to say something about that little tidbit that Sam had let slip, but John beat him to it.
“Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now.”
Wow. That was a low blow, even for him.
“Go to Hell,” Sam spat.
John simply glared at his son.
“I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong-“
A glass that was sent crashing to the floor cut off his spiel. No one had touched the object.
“What?” Clint managed to say, and John just managed to shake his head, conveying his confusion. Sam stared at the spot on the bedside table where the glass had been, brows furrowed.
Suddenly, a gaggle of nurses and doctors started running by John’s door in the hallway.
“Something’s going on out there,” John said, his voice slightly hoarse from his yelling match with Sam.
He jerked his head towards the door, indicating ‘go find out’ to Sam and Clint. Sam left in a huff, but Clint hesitated, turning back to his adoptive father.
“You don’t need to be so hard on him,” he said quietly, and John lowered his head with a sigh.
“I try not to be,” he said, “but we’re too alike. It was the same way with your father.”
Your father. Clint’s birth parents had rarely been discussed since he was four years old, and no one had even though to talk about them after Clint left all those years ago. He swallowed a lump in his throat. They would have to continue this discussion later, though. He still needed to see what was going on down the hall.
He walked out of his dad’s room and down the hall, where Laura, Adam, and Sam stood outside of Dean’s room. Clint managed to slip in next to Sam and poke his head through the door.
“Still no pulse,” a nurse announced, and the doctor nodded.
“Okay,” he said, “Let’s go again, 360.”
“Charging,” the nurse replied, and Clint could only watch helplessly as he stood with his wife and brothers.
As they tried to restart Dean’s heart, Clint blinked. He could have sworn that he’d heard his comatose brother’s voice call out. Turning his head slightly to the side, he saw that Sam looked just as confused as he did.
If they’d both heard Dean… could it be that his spirit was here, outside of his body? The monitors attached to Dean slowed and quieted, and they stopped using the defibrillator.
“We have a pulse,” the nurse said. “We’re back into sinus rhythm.”
Clint gave a sigh of relief, and felt Laura place her hands on his shoulders from behind.
“He’s gonna be fine,” she whispered in his ear. “He’ll wake up.”
Clint leaned against her for support.
Sam looked at Dean’s prone form, a small frown on his face.
“What do you mean, you felt something?” John asked.
He was still in his hospital bed – and mildly pissed about it – and Adam, Sam, and Clint stood around him, Sam having just told their father what had happened in Dean’s room.
Sam looked slightly frustrated with himself at not being able to explain things coherently.
“I mean it felt like, like Dean.” Sam tried to elaborate. “Like he was there, just out of eyeshot, or something. I don’t know if it’s my psychic thing, or what, it… But do you think it’s even possible? I mean, do you think his spirit could be around?” His face gave away the desperation that he had for a positive answer.
“Anything’s possible,” John admitted.
Clint scratched his nose absently.
“I don’t think you sensing him had anything to do with your weirdo psychic stuff, because I definitely felt something, too.” He informed his younger brother.
Adam shrugged.
“I didn’t notice anything too weird,” he said.
Laura had gone to a hotel (Clint’s S.H.I.E.L.D. salary allowed him to actually stay in places other than motels), and only John and his sons remained in the hospital with Dean.
Sam’s face was set in determination.
“Well,” he said, “there’s only one way to find out.” He walked towards the door.
“Where are you going?” John asked him.
Sam turned around to face his father.
“I gotta pick something up. “ he said, and his voice was a little cold. “I’ll be back.”
“Have fun, Terminator,” Clint muttered under his breath, and Adam snickered a little at the reference.
John sighed.
“Wait, Sam,” he called after the tall young man, and Sam stopped, looking at him impatiently. “I promise I won’t hunt this demon. Not until we know Dean’s okay.”
Sam considered him for a moment before nodding and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving John alone with his other two sons.
For a while, the silence in the room was absolutely suffocating. Adam looked uncomfortable as Hell – he didn’t really feel like talking to the dad that he barely knew – and Clint just didn’t know what to say. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer, and brought up a subject from earlier that day.
“So, my father was a stubborn jackass like you and Sam, then.” He said conversationally, and John’s gaze snapped to his.
Adam looked at his oldest brother, a little confused.
“But, he’s your da- oh, right,” he said. “Forgot you’re adopted.”
Clint and John shared a short chuckle at that.
“He was a piece of work, I’ll admit.” John answered after a while. “We argued about stupid things – I think I told you I hadn’t seen him since my wedding?” Clint nodded and he continued. “He drank too much when we were young, stopped when he met your mother and had you and Barney. He got drunk at the wedding reception.” He gave a humorless laugh.
Clint vaguely remembered that his father had a drinking problem in life. Barney and he had hidden in the closet of their parents’ bedroom as their mother and father had yelled at one another downstairs in the kitchen. He closed his eyes as the mostly faded memory played in his head.
“I remember that he drank,” he said quietly. “It’s one of the few memories I have left of him. Kinda sad, ain’t it?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and his left hand touched the smooth leather of his wallet.
“Oh!” he suddenly remembered. “I wanted to show you something, Dad.”
He pulled the wallet out of his pocket and removed a small photograph from inside the folds. He handed it to John, who held it lightly in the hand that wasn’t covered in tubes.
John’s mouth twitched upwards in a smile.
“Is this your boy?” he asked, and Clint grinned.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s Cooper. He’ll be a year old in a couple of months.”
John handed back the photo, and the three of them didn’t speak much after that. After a little while, Adam stretched and said, “I think I’m gonna go see Dean. Er, if that’s okay?” He was still unsure of the inclusion in his newfound family, but John smiled and nodded at him, and he left the room.
Clint sat in a chair next to his father’s bed, tapping his fingers on the armrest absently.
“It’s okay,” his father said suddenly. “You can leave me alone to go see Dean.”
Clint cast him a look.
“You sure you won’t get lonely, old man?” he asked him, and his father chuckled a bit.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go on, get out.” He leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes as his adopted son left the room.
Adam was sitting at Dean’s bedside when Clint entered the room. His youngest brother appeared not to have noticed him, and Clint gave a sad smile. It was the first time that Adam was meeting Dean, and Dean wasn’t even awake. Their family was all kinds of screwed.
“I never even knew that I had a brother, let alone three,” Adam said, startling Clint a little. He didn’t realize the kid knew he was there. “And now I find my brother, just as he’s dying.” He gave a short, bitter laugh, and his shoulders sagged.
It hit Clint that this boy had known too much death for such a young age. First his mother, and now the brother he’d never known he’d had.
“Well, welcome to the Winchester family, where everyone gets screwed one way or another” Clint said dryly. “And Dean’s not dying.” He added as an afterthought.
Adam said nothing, but the older blond could almost taste his doubt. He said nothing more on the matter, though, because Sam had entered the room with a large brown paper bag clutched in his arms.
“What’ve you got?” Clint asked his younger brother curiously.
“I think maybe Dean’s around,” Sam confided in his brothers.
“Okay…” Adam said hesitantly. He still didn’t know much about the supernatural, so he wasn’t going to question his brother.
“And if he is – don’t make fun of me for this, guys – but, um, there’s one way we can talk.” Sam continued.
He reached into the back and pulled out a box with the label Mystical Talking Board.
“Really?” Adam said with skepticism. “Those things work?”
Clint shrugged at him as Sam circled the bed and say cross-legged on the floor, opening the box and setting the board up in front of him. He looked at his brothers expectantly, and with a roll of his eyes, Clint motioned for Adam to sit down and place his hands on the planchette.
“Dean?” Sam said when all three of them had at least one of their hands touching the planchette. “Dean, are you here?”
“This is such a load of bull,” Adam muttered under his breath, but let out a little squeak when the pointer moved without any of their aid and stopped on ‘YES’.
Sam gave a relieved laugh, and Clint sighed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“It’s good to hear from you, man.” Sam said. “It hasn’t been the same without you, Dean.”
“Uh,” Adam said, looking at the board. “Hi, Dean. You don’t know me, but I’m your brother. Half-brother. Clint found me. So. Yeah.”
The pointer moved, stopping briefly at H and then at I. ‘Hi.’
Adam gave a small smile, and Clint used his free hand to ruffle the kid’s hair, and he ducked out from under him, scowling lightly, though his eyes showed that he didn’t mind, much.
The planchette moved again, sliding from letter to letter. Clint frowned, keeping track of the letters that it stopped on.
“Dean, what?” Sam uttered in surprise.
“H, U…” Clint tilted his head, trying to figure out what Dean was trying to convey to them. “Hunt? Hunting?”
“What, are you hunting?” Sam questioned, and the pointer moved to ‘YES’ once more. “It’s in the hospital, what you’re hunting? Do… do you know what it is?” The planchette didn’t move, and Sam looked to Clint in distress. “Did he leave?”
Clint shook his head.
“Nah, you’re just asking too many questions, I think.” He answered. “Here, let me give it a go. Dean, is it in the hospital?”
‘YES.’
“What is it?”
R, E, A, P,
“A reaper.” Sam breathed, ignoring Adam’s look of bewilderment, he continued. “Dean. Is it after you?” The pointer slid to ‘YES’ again.
“If it’s here naturally,” the oldest Winchester brother said in a low voice, “there’s no way to stop it.”
“Man, you’re, um,” Sam was having trouble getting the words out, and he removed his hands, standing and pacing around the room. “No. No, no, no, um, there’s gotta be a way. There’s gotta be a way,” he repeated himself. “Dad’ll know what to do.” He left the room, leaving Clint and Adam with the board.
Adam followed Sam’s departure with his eyes, nervously watching the door.
“Um,” he said finally, “Should we follow him?”
Clint put a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder.
“No, you remember that screaming match they had earlier.” He replied. “It’s best not to get in between them.” He turned his gaze back to the talking board. “Dean, I’m gonna put this away, ‘kay? Goodbye.”
The planchette swiped over the ‘GOODBYE’ written on the board, and Clint folded it up, returning it to its box.
“At least we know he’s around,” Adam offered. “And that he’s trying to come back.”
They stood, and Clint put an arm around his little brother.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s true.”
The two of them – Adam and Clint – stayed with Dean in his room. Clint talked softly to the prone form of his younger brother, telling him stories of things he’d done while at S.H.I.E.L.D with Natasha, and Adam simply stared at the young man who was his brother.
When Clint left to call Laura back at the motel, Adam pulled his chair closer to Dean’s bedside and began to speak to him.
“I’m sorry that we didn’t get to meet sooner,” he said. “And, I’m sorry that you’re not even awake. I wish Dad had told me about you guys, and about all that paranormal stuff, because then maybe my mom would still be alive, and you’d be awake, and-“ he sniffed a little, feeling the sting of unshed tears in his eyes. He gave a short laugh. “Wow. I’m crying over a dude I’ve barely known about for three days.” The young teenager rubbed furiously at his eyes. “And you’re probably laughing at me.”
Sam walked in the room then, looking a little flustered, and he was carrying an old, leather-bound journal in his hands. He stopped short as soon as he passed through the doorway, looking awkwardly at his little brother. Adam offered him a small smile.
“Hey, Sam.” He said to him, and Sam smiled back.
“Uh, hey,” he replied, looking around the room. He still seemed slightly uncomfortable with being alone with Adam, not that the young blond could blame him. After all, he was the bastard son of their father. “Where’s Clint?”
Adam shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Dunno,” he said with a slight yawn. “He stepped outside to call Laura, I think.”
Sam nodded, and he seemed slightly unfocused.
“So, Dad wasn’t in his room,” he said after a few moments of slightly uneasy silence.
“Where’d he go?” Adam asked his older brother curiously, and Sam shrugged (the blond noticed how much their gestures and body language were the same, and he wondered in what other ways they were similar).
“I don’t know.” He answered. “But I got Dad’s journal, so who knows? Maybe there’s something here.”
He flipped open the journal and began to leaf through it, glancing at both of his brothers occasionally. Adam got the feeling that if it were himself or Clint lying in that bed, Sam would be just as gung-ho to bring them back. It made him feel good to know just how highly the Winchester’s valued family.
Sam finally settled upon a page on Reapers, and he motioned for the youngest Winchester brother to come look at it with him.
“D’you see anything that might help?” he asked the younger boy, and Adam scanned the page for a moment before he shook his head ruefully.
“Sorry, man,” he said apologetically, and Sam shook his head.
“No,” he said, “It’s not your fault. Thanks for trying.”
Adam nodded at him and hesitantly patted his older brother on the shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Sam didn’t acknowledge it, but he didn’t shrug off his brother’s hand, either.
“Dean,” Sam said suddenly, “Are you here?” He cast his gaze around the room, as if Dean’s spirit (or ghost or whatever) would make itself known. “We couldn’t find anything in the book.” He continued. “I don’t know how to help you. But we’ll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting. I mean, come on, you can’t… you can’t leave me with Dad. Clint’s gone, and-“ he looked to his younger brother “-Adam will probably go with him. We’ll kill each other, you know that.”
If Dean did die, Adam wouldn’t leave Sam with their father. He didn’t doubt for one moment that the two would be at each other’s throats constantly.
“Dean, you gotta hold on. You can’t go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again.” Sam’s voice cracked. “Can you hear me?”
“Sam,” Adam said softly. “I won’t leave you if… if something happens. I won’t.”
Sam stared at him, and after a moment, the barest of smiles graced his lips. He put an arm around the teenager, drawing him close.
“Thanks,” he said, and Adam had never felt more included in the Winchester family then in that moment.
Sam settled himself on the foot of the bed, Adam sitting in the armchair across from him, when Dean made a noise.
Adam and Sam rushed to him as soon as the older man’s eyes opened and he choked on the tube that had been placed in his throat.
“You stay with him, calm him down,” Adam instructed Sam. “I’ll get help.”
Sam nodded, his focus entirely on Dean as he tried to calm his brother so that he did not hyperventilate and cause himself further harm.
“It’s okay, Dean, it’s okay,” he heard Sam murmur to their brother as Adam burst into the hallway.
“Help!” he cried out to anyone who would listen. “I need help!”
Clint had come charging into the room not to long after Dean had woken himself up and the doctor had come to examine him for any lasting damage.
“He’s okay,” he breathed as his eyes landed on his little brother sitting up in his hospital bed. Adam came to stand by his side, a grin on his face.
Sam never left Dean’s side.
“I can’t explain it,” the doctor said after a while, a look of befuddlement on his face. “The edema’s vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You have some kind of angel watching over you.”
Clint snorted a bit at that – no way angels were real.
“Thanks, doc,” Dean said, and he sounded genuinely grateful.
The doctor nodded at them all, and he left the room, leaving the four brothers to themselves. Dean turned to look at his brothers, a look of concentration crossing his face.
“So,” he began. “You said a Reaper was after me?”
Sam nodded at his older brother.
“Yeah,” he answered.
Dean’s eyes drifted over to where Adam stood by Clint.
“And who’s the kid?”
Clint realized that if Dean did not remember his little stint as a spirit, he had no idea who Adam actually was. He glanced down at his youngest brother before looking to Dean.
“Well,” he said. “This is Adam. Let’s just say Dad couldn’t keep it in his pants, and leave it at that.”
Adam flushed cherry red, and Dean gave a snicker of amusement.
“So, how’d I ditch the Reaper?” Dean asked Sam, getting the conversation back on topic now that he’d received his answer.
Sam shook his head and Clint shrugged.
“You got me.” Sam said. “Dean, you really don’t remember anything?”
Dean looked troubled as he spoke.
“No.” he replied, frowning as he did so. “Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something’s wrong.”
Their conversation was halted by a sudden knock on the door, and all four heads turned to the open door where their father hovered in the hallway. He looked utterly relieved to see his son awake, and he shot his youngest a small smile.
“How you feeling, dude?” John asked Dean, who gave a small shrug.
“Fine, I guess.” He replied. “I’m alive.”
John smiled fondly at him.
“That’s what matters,” he said to his son.
Sam, however, wasn’t eager to forget his father’s disappearing act earlier before.
“Where were you last night?” he asked John angrily. His father turned to face him
“Oh, boy,” Clint muttered, clapping a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Let’s go get some snacks from the vending machine, kid.” He led his youngest brother out of the room, ignoring his annoyed comment of, “I’m not a kid!”
Not too long after Clint and Adam left, Sam joined them, grabbing a cup of coffee from the machine.
“Did Dad yell at you?” Clint asked Sam conversationally, not facing him.
“No, actually.” Sam admitted. “Nice change, I guess. I’m gonna give him his caffeine, and hopefully we’ll all be on the road in a couple of hours.”
Clint nodded absently. Adam grabbed a bag of Cheetos for each of them out of the vending machine, handing one to his oldest brother, which he accepted with a “Thanks”.
Sam walked back to their father in Dean’s room, and that was when Adam and Clint heard him yell for help.
July 19th, 2006
The four of them hovered in the doorway to the room where a crowd of doctors and nurses attempted resuscitation on John Winchester, and a nurse attempted to push the four brothers back out into the hallway.
“No,” Dean was saying desperately as she pushed him away. “No, no, it’s our dad, it’s our dad!” he pleaded with the nurse. “Come on.”
“Okay, stop compressions,” the doctor said, and Clint felt his insides turn to ice.
“Still no pulse,” one of the nurses announced.
Time seemed to stop as the next words were spoken.
“I’ll call it. Time of death, ten forty-one a.m.”
END