Time had lost all meaning for the young man who parked his non-descript beater car outside of the rambling, falling down house which stood tall among a sea of equally decrepit cars. Looking behind him to the back seat, he saw that his precious cargo was still slumbering, albeit a bit fitfully. Getting out of the car, he went to the trunk and grabbed all their bags-4 duffels in all-and went up the stairs to the front porch where he momentarily set the bags down by the front door. Then he laid down at the edge of the porch where it met the house and reached down along the lower beam, his fingers searching for that small piece of metal that would provide entrance to their safe heaven devoid of monsters and men.
The key didn't take long to find. He'd been retrieving it since he could walk just as the house was the next best thing to home he'd ever known. Getting back onto his feet, he picked up the duffels and let himself inside. The house was dark and spooky-just the way he remembered- and he wouldn't have it any other way. He flipped on the hallway light and then that of the living room as he made his way to the couch where he set down all the duffels, the heaviest being placed the closest for easy access. After getting spare pillows and blankets from the hallway closet, the young man made his way back outside and to the back seat of his car. Opening the door, he surveyed the woman who was still dead to the world. Being mindful of her head, arms and legs, he gently eased her out onto the ground. As he looked at her, trying to figure out how to get here inside, her eyes blinked open and she stared at him in bewilderment.
"Cal, honey? Where are we?" She asked slowly.
"We're hoe. Come on, you need to help me get you inside. I can't do it by myself." Her arms shaking wildly, she started to rise from the ground, Cal wrapping his arms around her in order to hold her steady. Slowly they managed to get her inside. By the time she was laid out on the couch, a pillow behind her head and a blanket draped over her, she was out like a light once again.
Sighing, Cal reached into his back pocket and took out his cell phone, all the while crouched next to the couch. Suddenly, the rumble of a large engine came from outside and quickly drew closer. Lunging for the largest duffel bag, he opened it and drew out both sawed-off shot guns that were lying on the top. One he set in the crook of the woman's arm, the other he clutched in his own hands; standing in front of the couch protectively. He remained silent as the car came to a halt next to his and the engine was turned off. Three doors were slammed as its occupants bailed out. This made Cal inch closer to the duffel bag and pull out the sharp Bowie knife therein. Only one man normally occupied this house-so three was a huge red flag.
Their voices were muffled, much quieter than the noise of their stomping up the porch steps and up to the door. He reasoned this to mean that they were large, heavy me, outweighing him by a wide margin. His fear spiked as the lock turned and the door was eased open cautiously. A moment later two men appeared in the entrance to the living room. Cal cocked the shotgun and shouted at them to stop. As predicted both men were large, one towering over the other, and both bulked out to the nines. 'Hunters.' Cal thought, but didn't dare lower his guard. "Who are you?" He demanded of them.
"Us?" The shorter one said, incredulously. "You are the one who snuck in here."
"I don't think so as I have a key. I belong here and considering I've never seen you two before, you don't. Now, tell me who you are before I shoot you both in your gun shoulders." Both men looked taken back. Who was this kid? Suddenly from the hallway behind them, a familiar voice made itself known.
"You digits! Put your guns away all three of you before you do something you regret! Now, Caleb, where is your mother" He asked before coming into view.
"Papa!" Cal cried, placed the gun gently on top of the duffel bag and ran in Bobby Singer's arms. "Mama is hurt and I don't know how to fix her."
An hour later a couple of extra chairs had been dragged into the living room so that everyone had a place to sit. All the guns had been put away and sandwiches were currently being digested. The two tall men and the young boy were staring at each other silently when Bobby looked up; having made sure the woman's wounds had been tended to and was sleeping peacefully.
"Have you digits at least introduced yourselves or have you just been glaring the entire time?"
Sighing when the other two didn't speak up, Call decided to be the grown up. "Caleb Winchester, nice to meet you."
"Winchester?" The older one asked. "That can't be right. Just who the hell are you?"
"Caleb." Bobby said after heaving a great sight. "Meet your unless Dean and Sam Winchester." At his statement, both men turned to look at the woman on the couch. "Kat?" She did not reply.
Sam tuned to Dean. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"
Dean though for a moment before replying: "12 years."
Surprised, Sam said. "Same here."
"Really? I thought you kept in touch seeing as she's your twin."
"So, you're her older brother too. Why didn't you stay in touch?" Dean looked down at his hands and comprehension lit up his eyes. "She tried, you didn't. Really Dean?"
"As nice as it is to hear how you screwed my mom over, "Caleb spoke up, startling Dean and Sam as they seemed to have forgotten about him. "K think you guy should leave before she wakes up. She doesn't need this kind of stress in her life. It's been hard enough as it is." Whit that he bent and knelt next to the couch, laying his head on her arm, looking like the young boy that he was. Prodding Dean and Sam, Bobby guided them to the guest bedroom upstairs, leaving Caleb and Kat alone in the darkened room surrounded by stacks of books.