Author's Note: Thanks for all of the reviews. I posted this one quicker than my usual four or five months…LOL. So, there's a bonus. And to get prepared to write this, I, of course, re-read all of Ridley's stories. (For the millionth time, and STILL loving it!)
A few people mentioned that Caleb and Mac had died in Season 1, yes, that's correct, but in Ridley C. James' Brotherhood series (which I'm borrowing- I hope she doesn't mind…), she brings them back to life. If you haven't read her stories, Tidia, and Williamson Scott's, you need to. I even created a special section in my link archive for their stories. (Visit my site if you're interested.)
The other question regarded that I skipped past a few episodes from Chapter 1 to 2, that's correct. Any information that needs to be added will be added in the form of 'flashbacks.' But I'm not worried, the story still flows well. (I think)
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Caleb Reaves and his father, Dr. Mackland Ames stood in front of the dingy motel room door, waiting for the boys inside to open up. When a second had passed without answer, Caleb nearly kicked the door open; only his father's light grasp on his shoulder kept him from running in there.
He glanced at his father for a moment before returning his gaze towards the door, wishing that his half-demon side would've also included melting doors along with his psychic ability.
Bobby had called his father and informed him that the Winchesters were in trouble, again. He told them of the demon who'd possessed Sam and the crimes that she/it made him do—turning him into nothing but a puppet to control at its will. As he'd explained, Bobby couldn't help keep the worry out of his voice as he described Sam's burns—Dean on the other hand—Bobby said that he'd never heard Dean scream like that. 'Mac. Caleb.' Bobby said, while both of them listened on speaker phone, 'I think there's something wrong with Dean. It's been my experience with him that the worse he's hurt, the more he hides it, and the more quiet he becomes…and I'm telling you, he's hurt real bad and Sam's head isn't in the right place to help him. I think that you should check on them—fast.'
It'd taken much of their resources to track the two down to a run-of-the-mill motel in the middle of nowhere, but when Caleb spotted Dean's baby, he couldn't help but release a sigh of relief at the sight of the car. A little more investigation found that they were in Room 181.
Mac grabbed his well-stocked medical bag from the car and followed his adopted son to the door. He waited patiently for one of them to open it, resting his hand on Caleb's shoulder to calm him when he'd moved to kick it open.
The door opened a few seconds later, Sam at the door with a dagger in his hand. Mac gave the boy a small smile when he'd nearly dropped it in his surprise.
"Caleb! Mac! What are you doing here?"
Caleb gave Sam a grin, slapping him on the shoulder before walking into the room. "We were in the area, and I remembered that Dean owed me a pizza."
Mac followed his son inside, shutting the door softly behind him. Sam still stood at the doorway; he looked exhausted. Mac's eyes scanned the young man for any obvious injuries. Stopping, he focused on the bandage covered forearm. Gently, he grasped Sam's uninjured hand and pulled him further into the room until they reached the table. He pulled out the chair and quickly settled Sam into it.
"Sam? Son, are you alright?" He asked as he slowly started peeling the tape and gauze off the burn.
Sam blinked a few times, finally noticing that Dr. Ames was in front of him. "Sorry, Mac. I, ahh, I'm just tired. It's been a long day…" He hissed when Mac started cleaning the wound.
"So, I guess Bobby called you," Sam stated matter-of-factly.
Mac finished dressing the wound, smiling at his comment. "Yes, Bobby called. He was pretty worried about you boys. He said that there was some trouble—that you'd been possessed by a demon."
Sam's face paled. He didn't bother to respond; there was nothing he could say or do that would make the situation any better.
Mac gently squeezed his shoulder, trying to be understanding.
"Dad!" Caleb shouted from Dean's bedside, "Come here."
Immediately, Mac moved from Sam's side to Dean's. Sam followed behind him, running to get to his brother.
"Dean?" Sam called out as he pushed past Mac to sit at his brother's side. "Dean, what's wrong?"
Dean refused to answer, instead turning to face the other way—away from his brother. Sam grabbed his shoulder in attempt to turn him back around. The sharp scream was muted as Dean pushed his face into the pillow. Sam jumped at the sound. "Dean?" Flinching, he pulled his hand back quickly.
Mac gently pushed him away to examine his brother. Sam watched as Dean's shirt turned blood red in a few seconds. Sam stared in horror at the stain that grew, the memory of holding a gun in his hand, pointing it at his brother, the feel of the recoil…Jumping up, Sam ran to the bathroom; the sounds of vomiting could be heard throughout the room.
Mac only glanced at the bathroom door; his main concern was the injured young man: bleeding, bruised, feverish, and unvocal. "Caleb, please, go check on Sam."
Caleb looked at Dean, then looked back at the door where his best friend's brother was ill—Caleb knew that he'd put his little brother first, always. He nodded, "Okay," then walked to the bathroom.
Mac grabbed his medical bag; the bandage that had been taped on Dean's shoulder was now soaked through with blood. He gently peeled away the remaining shreds of gauze, taking care not to disrupt a blood clot, only to find a neat bullet sized hole in his shoulder. "Damn it, Dean…" Mac softly swore at the tell-tale signs of infection already festering in the wound. "Sam must've reopened the wound when he grabbed you. Why the hell didn't you tell anyone?!" Pulling out a few new four by four packages, he placed the sterile gauze on the wound and held it tightly in attempts to stop the bleeding.
Dean groaned softly at the pain the pressure was causing but didn't speak; his face was still buried within the pillow. "Dean? Son, can you hear me?"
He answered with a small grunt.
Mac frowned at his lack of communication. "Dean, is your throat bothering you?"
The body beneath is hand started to tremble, making the worry he'd felt since trying to find the boys escalate. "Caleb!" Mac called out to his son; he'd need his help in order to help Dean.
Caleb flew out of the bathroom, panicked, "Dad? Is Deuce okay?"
Mac bit his lip, "He hasn't spoken since we arrived—he's trembling now…" He huffed slightly, "Help me with him."
Caleb nodded, "Okay, dad. What do you want me to do?"
"Hold him; try to keep him warm—and most importantly, see if he'll respond to you; if he'll talk to you." Mac shifted his hold, as Caleb climbed in the bed. Working together, they adjusted Dean's position until he was wrapped up in Caleb's arms. His head rested against his friend's shoulder, body still trembling from chills associated with the fever. Caleb pulled up the blanket around them both, then started to gently rub his forearms and back—doing his best not to jar his injured shoulder.
His father tended to the wound as quickly as he could—but Caleb knew from experience, it still hurt like the dickens; yet Dean didn't make a single sound. After he was patched up, an intravenous line was inserted in the back of his hand and antibiotics, saline, and electrolytes began dripping slowly into his healing body.
Mac gave him a pointed look, nodding towards the young Winchester still vomiting in the bathroom, before leaving him to tend to Dean.
"Deuce," Caleb called out softly, bringing up his hand to cup his friend's face, "its okay. You're going to be fine." The trembling only served to increase; he started a slow stroking action with his thumb against Dean's cheek, trying to warm him—trying to get him to open his eyes and talk to him. "Sammy's okay, too. You don't need to worry, alright. Everything's fine. Dad's patched you up—so a couple days of having us as your slaves, tending to your every whim and you'll be as good as new, princess." The humorous attempt at levity was ignored, as everything else was.
Dean leaned further into his embrace, tucking his head into his chest. His shirt soon became tangled in Dean's tight fist. The trembling evolved into shaking and only Caleb could hear Dean's tiny whimpers as he struggled to contain his emotions. Caleb could only hold his friend tightly, as he began to rock. Resting his hands on his neck, Caleb barely kept himself in control as Dean's feelings flooded through him.
Like a man drowning in a river, Caleb became Dean's rock—a solid object that he could hold onto until the tide calmed.
After what seemed like a few hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Dean drifted off to sleep. Caleb could only hope that he had felt safe enough to let his guard down to sleep and that the blood loss, fever, and medications his father had pumped into him hadn't done the job for him.
The door to the bathroom opened a few minutes later, Mac guiding a green-colored Sam towards the other bed to lay down. Sam sat at the edge of the bed, facing the lump that was Caleb and Dean. Caleb watched as the boy swallowed hard, then rubbed a hand over his face. Mac tried to get him to lay back against the cushions and met resistance. "Oh, god," Sam moaned, " I did this."
Caleb frowned, glancing at his father--who looked grief stricken. "What do you mean, Sam?"
Gulping once more, Sam gasped, "I shot Dean. It felt --good. I wanted to hurt him; I wanted him dead. But mostly, I wanted him to suffer..."
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To Be Continued…
I personally love this chapter. I wanted to ask someone to beta it for me, but was too impatient…so if there are any problems, things that are hard to understand or something—just tell me. I'll fix it later.
Thanks so much for reading, PLEASE review!
By the way, the FINALE was AWESOME!!! (I feel like Ava, before she turned evil, that is. LOL.)
