Caleb POV

When I opened the door I found myself face to face with a dripping wet, short, skinny blond kid. My first thoughts was, no it couldn't be. Because, well, it couldn't be him. Kidd was no longer a kid, at least he shouldn't have been. It had been years since I've last seen him. Years. And physically he didn't look much older. He should have been at least 22 or 23 years old but looking at him I swear he couldn't have been more than 16 if that.

"Kidd?" I asked, watching him flinch at the sound of my voice.

"Not here for you." Kidd coughed, blood dripping out of his mouth and nose. It was then I noticed how he held himself up against the door, one hand pressed against a gaping wound in his side and the other holding a backpack in a white-knuckled grip.

"Why don't you come in and sit down?" I suggested, reaching out to help.

"Don't touch me!" Kidd yelled, backing up out of reach and swaying as he lost the support of the door. He wasn't putting any weight on his left leg which was tightly tied up with a torn up shirt. Had he been shot? More than once?

"Alright." I pulled my hands away, not sure what was happening. I was still mentally freaking out that he was still a little kid and that he was here. And that he was a freaking kid!

"Where's my brother?" He asked with an accusing glare. Brother? Did Kidd have a brother? Why was he asking me? I was more worried about how much blood he was losing. Standing in the cold rain couldn't be helping either. Kidd's knees buckled and I ignored his protests and grabbed him anyways.

"Let go!" Kidd sounded more scared and panicked than angry as he tried to push me off. "Let me go!"

"We're just going to go inside." I tried to explain, but unsurprisingly he didn't seem to understand. I could feel just how warm he was as I wrapped my arms around him despite the freezing rain and part of me hoped his reaction was more because of a fever than his actual hatred of me. "Stop fighting me. You need to get out of the rain. Okay? Deuce?" He was still fighting me but he was drooping fast. Too fast.

"Where's my brother? I need to find my brother." Kidd insisted as he weakly shoved at me again before he passed out completely. I picked him up and cradled him in my arms like a little child with ease. He was so thin and small. It was scary as hell. I mean, he was probably dying in my arms and all I could think was that the little runt hadn't aged a day.

"Bobby!" I yelled as I carried Kidd into the house.

Bobby charged in with his shotgun ready to fire before seeing the bloody body in my arms. "Kitchen. Quick." He ordered as he ran off with a quick, "I'll fetch the supplies," over his shoulder. Carrying Kidd to the kitchen wasn't a problem, his wet clothes probably weighed more than he did but feeling all that seeping blood, was. I put him on the table, not being at all gentle as I swept everything out of my way and grabbed a towel to plug the bleeding. Thankfully Bobby came back when he did, all business.

All hunters could stitch themselves up but when it came right down to it Bobby's kitchen table was where we ended up when getting stitched up wasn't enough and hospitals were out of the question. Which is all the time.

"Who is it?" Bobby asked as he moved me out of the way to examine the wound.

"Its Kidd." I told him, still half disbelieving it myself.

"Balls." Bobby examined Kidd's unconscious body, mostly the baby smooth and hairless face. "He's still a kid! Just a skinny little boy." He was thinner, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut through his skin, his hollowed cheeks dark enough to look bruised, and when Bobby cut off Kidd's shirt so he could stitch Kidd up, every bone could be seen. However, no 16 year old had muscles like that, he was too built, but still more wiry than buff. The tattoos and scars were also new. The scars crisscrossed all over, some more deliberate than others. The tattoos looked to be names, dates, places, a few unique designs, and just about everything covering his entire torso and upper arms.

"Hold him down. I have to check if there's a bullet in his side." Bobby ordered. "I'll have to dig it out." I did as I was told without question as Bobby dug into Kidds side. I wasn't really expecting anything considering Kidd was unconscious but he surprised me, his body jerking as if in pain, before relaxing completely, when Bobby attempted to dig the bullet out but he didn't make a sound. "Huh," Bobby said more to himself than me. "Must have dug it out himself." Bobby quickly stitched him up and cut away the pant leg to do the same when I remembered Kidd's bag.

Opening his backpack felt like invading his privacy in the worst way. It's something I've never done before but it was more than necessary this time. His brother, he said. He needed his brother. For as long as I had known Kidd I knew surprisingly little about him or his past. Even when we left him alone I had no idea if he even had a family to go back to. I just took Bobby's word that he would be alright. He was fine before he met us, why wouldn't he be after? Seeing the condition of Kidd now made me doubt my decision. He didn't look alright to me. Plus he hated me. I couldn't blame him for that one.

"Why does he look like a kid?" I asked.

"Nothing supernatural as far as I can tell." Bobby informed me as he continued to check Kidd over. "There's nothing to indicate he's not just a kid." Good to know, no supernatural stuff. On the other hand it was creepy and unexplained which led back to thinking it was supernatural caused. Maybe a witch?

And his bag! Just wow. There were only a few things in his bag beside weapons. It was worst than Bobby's collection of books. A few hundred dollars, some duct-tape, and a stuffed toy? Not much. Ah-ha! A book. It was probably a normal book once but over time it had become a collection of pictures, mostly sketches, and newspaper clippings held together by staples and paperclips. He had made notes on the side, dates, little tidbits of information, and for some, obituaries. More of a hunters journal, I thought, until I stumbled across a familiar looking face. It was a regular picture, an old photo, of two young boys, both smiling and happy. The older one, only a few inches taller though clearly thinner, seemed more rough around the edges. Maybe it was the bruises he sported, his guarded green eyes even when he smiled, or the protective arm around the younger boy. Like he was the type of kid who wouldn't hesitate to steal or maybe even kill if need be to protect this boy. That was Kidd. The younger boy held the stuffed bear, the same one I just took out of Kidd's bag. He held an innocence that Kidd lacked, was free of any bruises, and looked better fed and somewhat healthier. They were obviously brothers. I flipped the picture over and sure enough my suspicions were confirmed.

Dean and Sam.

It was Sam. One of the few raised in the hunter world. Bobby had raised him but I had always believed he knew about the supernatural before showing up on Bobby's doorstep. And here I was thinking my day couldn't get any better.