A/N-1: Hey Guys

Okay, so this is later than I wanted to be able to post this. Real Life really is taking control lately. It's a juggling act that I am still learning. Thanks goes out to Angelustatt, who really is a godsend when it comes to keeping my muse flowing and thanks again goes out to my mother who helps me go through this and pick out mistakes and whatnot. Any still in here are all my own ;) I want to thank those of you have been patiently waiting for this and those of you who are waiting on other things I need to do. Thanks guys.

More to come in A/N-2 at the end of this chapter …

Chapter 3. In The Dark

"How's he doing?"

"He mumbled something before."

"What'd he say?"

"How am I supposed to know what he said? I don't speak mumble."

"You haven't heard yourself in your sleep. There's a reason I never share a tent with you on a hunt if I can help it. So you think he's waking?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Ask his Daddy when he comes back in. He's the one that has been monitoring him like a damn hawk."

"D…"

Caleb knew the voices around him, recognised the names swirling around with the voices but what he couldn't do was open his eyes or formulate what he wanted to say. His head hurt, it was thumping in time with his heart beat and he was sure that if he looked into a mirror it would be twice his normal size.

"Damien?" There was a hand on his arm, the skin warm and familiar. "'bout time you woke up."

"Wh…" The smells, the feel of the sheets … Caleb was uncomfortable and confused. The psychic moved his arms, resting one arm across his stomach; the other flopped clumsily back to the place it had been settled in. He wasn't restrained but it didn't make him feel any better. His mind was heavy and held nothing but holes, big black holes. His stomach held nothing but the need to purge itself of its contents.

"You've been worrying your best buddy here with this silent act, Junior. Not to mention your old man has been beside himself - which isn't good for any of us…"

"Shut up, Bobby," Dean snapped as Caleb could feel the hand on his arm tighten its grip in a comforting squeeze.

Deuce was with him. It calmed him somewhat. Bobby was there too and Mac had apparently been hovering. "J'nny?" The need to know where John was seemed important, if the pit mixing with the nausea in his stomach was anything to go by.

"Jenny?" The mechanic questioned. "Open your eyes and you'll see there aint no girls in here. Not a hot nurse in sight in this hospital. Sorry to disappoint 'n' all," Bobby ended sarcastically.

"N…No…" Caleb shook his head, mentally cursing his lack of ability in getting his mouth around the words he needed. The motion also made his head feel like it was going to explode, pounding right off his neck.

Groaning, Caleb let his head roll to the side. Something soft was covering the left side of his head but it was the itch underneath that brought Caleb's hand to it.

"Leave it alone, Dude." Dean's hand moved up to lightly take hold of his wrist, stopping it from reaching its target. "Bobby, you want to go and get Mac? He'll want to know Damien is awake."

"No need." Mac. The name sent a surge through him at the sound of his father's voice. He wanted to see him. The older psychic's footsteps could be heard crossing the floor, his shoes loud against the typical linoleum floor that he associated with most hospital rooms, just cementing the knowledge that something was very wrong.

"Kid woke up a few minutes ago."

"Dad?" Caleb licked his lips, trying to bring moisture there. He frowned and shifted, despite his sluggish mind and the pain in his head, Caleb's body was thrumming with need, the need to do something although he had no idea what. It was confusing as the contrasts meshed together.

"How're you feeling, son?"

Mac's presence replaced Bobby's beside him and no offence to the grizzly hunter but it sent a measure of calm through him that only his father could give him.

"Damien?"

Right. He was supposed to answer. Dean sounded anxious. He licked his lips again and turned his head to the other side in the direction he knew Mac was standing, causing his head to roll right off his fucking shoulders for certain this time. The sound emitted from his throat without his consent was low and pitiful and apparently a sign for Mac to place his hand on Caleb's brow. His hand felt cool against his skin. "I feel … I feel like Deuce used my head f'batting p-pratice…where's J..John?"

Caleb's forehead creased at the silence that followed his question.

"What do you remember, son?"

That was the million dollar question. The answer was hidden behind those black holes but would he be able to retrieve them without getting ripped apart and sucked through them? "I uhh … s'hurts." Thinking hurt. It wasn't just a saying anymore, it wasn't just a smartass remark from a certain teenage friend … it really did fucking hurt.

"A bullet to the head will do that to ya."

Mac sighed, sounding more like a tired grumble. "Bobby."

"Bullet?" He'd been shot? One would think one would remember something like that.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Wha'?" Had Bobby been shot in the head? But then why the hell did his head feel like it was going to topple off at any moment?

"What are you doing?" Mac asked and for a moment Caleb thought his father was talking to him and was about to answer when he was interrupted by Bobby.

"What? That's what doctors ask with head wounds right?"

"How about you leave the doctoring up to me?"

"You're the one with the letters after your name."

"They've been like this since we found you," Dean supplied, his hand not leaving the psychic's wrist. Did he know that Caleb needed that connection right now? Or did he just need that girly connection himself? For whatever reason Caleb was grateful.

"Found me?"

There was another second of silence. It might not have seemed like much to the average person but Caleb wasn't the average person and he didn't belong to your average family. Silence, even seconds of it could mean anything and it was rarely good in a situation when your memory failed you.

"He doesn't remember," Dean said but this time Caleb knew his friend wasn't talking to him.

"Its okay, Dean, he took quite a blow. Memory loss is expected. It will come back to him." Mac wasn't saying something. Caleb didn't need to be completely coherent to understand that they were starting to dance around something important. "Son, how's the pain on a scale from of one to ten?"

"And no bullshitting, Junior. Your face is one big fucking lie detector right now."

At Bobby's warning, Caleb caved. Lying wasn't going to help him because they wouldn't believe him anyway. "Eleven," he croaked.

"Okay, good, Caleb. We'll see if we can do something about that."

"If y'say so," Caleb mumbled. Why did doctors always say 'good' when you told them how high on the scale your pain was. As far as Caleb was concerned it wasn't good at all.

Caleb, bit his lip as his father touched his face but let him do the check he knew Mac wouldn't be happy until he'd done. His father's practiced hand hovered over his face.

Tension built in Mac's fingertips. "Dad?" Mac's fingers left his face and he remained quiet again. Silence was becoming a new pet peeve. "Dad? What is it?"

"Mac?" Dean's voice mirrored his own.

"Caleb? What do you see?" Mac asked cautiously.

"You mean beside the back of my eyelids?" Light after a nasty concussion was something he had been putting off for as long as possible. He could feel his family around him and that had been enough.

"Mac?" Dean repeated his one-worded question.

"Dean, you want to go and make sure your brother didn't buy the whole vending machine?" Bobby asked, sounding serious for the first time since Caleb had blasted through the pain and pressure in his head.

For some reason the pain the light would surely bring to the headache thrumming behind his eyes wasn't even a consideration. Caleb blinked, realising something for the very first time. His eyes weren't closed. Sensations that had been clouded by the pounding and confusion were making themselves known … the room's air brushing against his eyes.

Panic seized him and he wrenched his wrist out of his friend's hand and brought it up to his face. His lashes fluttered against his palm, opening and shutting at will but making no difference to the blackness in front of him.

His eyes had been open and he hadn't even realised.

His chest locked up and he rubbed at his eyes almost frantically, ignoring the sparks that flew in the darkness that surrounded him, matching the black holes in his memory. His favourite colour had always been black and yet suddenly now he was fucking terrified of what it meant.

He felt both Dean and Mac grab a hand each and pull them away from his face. The struggle was instinctive in his limbs despite the trust he held for the two people on either side of him. He pulled at them, his mind irrationally stuck on the idea that if he rubbed his eyes enough that he could wipe the black away.

"Dad?" his voice wavered, bordering on hysteria as his stomach somersaulted.

"Its okay, Caleb," Mac tried to soothe.

"No. No it's not okay," Caleb disagreed strongly. "Wh-What's going on?" he demanded, his eyes darting around wildly, searching, and desperately needing to catch anything, even a tiny ray of light in the all consuming darkness he was shrouded in. "Why cant I see?"

xXx

All sense of time was lost in the dark. John wasn't even sure how long it had been since Tony had been down there with him, sprouting his 'save the world from evil' crap. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd been thrown down into the dark basement and he didn't know how long it had been since Caleb had been …

He needed to get out of here. Of course that was easier said than done considering every time he moved he lost the ability to breathe or think. Tony had kept apologising and John just stopped acknowledging him. He hurt too much and it was like talking to a brick wall. There was no getting through to the kid.

Tony believed what he was preaching … because Tony was made to believe it. John had seen that look before. It explained a lot. Jim had ordered Tony not to go in alone, afraid that he would lose his life. Instead they had taken him and brainwashed him … and with Caleb gone and his body begging him to let it shut down? John wasn't really inclined to care.

Biting his lip, John flexed his fingers. He had a plan. It wasn't much of one but it was better than sitting around and waiting for them to use his blood in a ritual to conjure God's help in the fight against evil.

It was insane. John wasn't exactly under the impression there was a God, despite one of his best friends being a priest; and in the case that he was wrong? John seriously doubted he cared enough to come down and help. John had been fighting the fight against evil for a long time. Human's were on their own.

John gasped but continued his movements, needing to force his fingers to reach inside the back pocket of his jeans. There was small notebook there but more importantly? A paperclip kept some of the pages attached. The damn pieces of stationary should be mandatory for hunters. You never knew when you were going to be in the position to need them.

The edges of the notebook brushed against his fingertips and motivated him further. If he could just get that damn paperclip between his fingers he could possibly have a chance at trying to get out of the damn basement.

John huffed, his trembling fingers closing on the paperclip. It was a start.

It took him longer than he would have liked, a lot longer than it would have normally but when the handcuff's clicked open, John let go of the breath that he hadn't realise he'd been holding.

He whimpered, clenching his jaw immediately after. The pain in his arm was instantaneous but he hadn't been able to stop himself from moving it forward the moment it was free. He shifted, getting his good arm under him and pushed himself up. He was cold. He paused, sitting hunched over, shaking and trying really hard not to throw up as his throat convulsed.

It didn't last long but when his stomach had finally settled, John felt dizzy and weak. It was a feeling he hated with a passion and just made him all the more determined to move, despite the knifing sensation in his broken arm.

"I'm Impressed."

John's head shot up and his eyes widened in shock at the other voice in the room, a room that until that moment he had thought had been totally empty. How had he not sensed that someone else was in the room?

"I've seen many people succumb to less."

John scanned the room around him, edging his body back slowly, feeling safer if the wall was behind him. It was so dark that it was almost impossible to see his own hand, let alone someone else. "Who's there?" He had no weapon, his head was spinning and he couldn't judge just where the voice was coming from. "Answer me … or are you too gutless to show yourself?"

The laughter he received in return for his efforts chilled John to the bone, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, goosebumps rising on his bare lower arms.

Sometime between the last time he had succumbed to unconscious and coming to? He had lost his over-shirt and shoes and socks. The wall at his back did little to make him feel less vulnerable but it was all he had. "Laughter? That's all you got?"

"I can taste your fear, Johnathan Winchester."

"I'm not the one hiding from an injured man … in the dark," John countered, not sure which he felt the need to press his hand against the most, his ribs or his arm. There didn't seem to be any relief anywhere. Instead he settled for wiping the sweat from his head.

"You can not fool me." The tone held an air of arrogance to it. "Fear … it's the path to the dark side, you know?"

John's heart panged for a second. He heard Caleb's voice in his head; saw him and Dean in his head throwing Star Wars quotes back and forth at the most inopportune time. It was their way and now because of him, Dean had lost that comfort, Sam too. They all had.

John's eyes hardened as Caleb's voice faded into the dark of the basement. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions … heard that one?" Whatever this cult thought they were doing, whatever their motives. It was all just ending in blood.

John couldn't prevent what had already happened but he had one thing that had served him well the last thirteen years and it was going to get him through this too … and he would do the only thing he could do for Caleb now. He would set things right and stop this sacrifice bullshit from going any further.

"The road to hell has been paved by demonic creatures and evil sinners, John. I'm sure my followers – I'm sure Tony explained our plans to you."

That answered one question. He was talking to the man in the robe he had met upstairs – Father Brown or whatever the fuck they had called him. "Oh he explained alright," John answered, holding his broken arm against his body as he pressed his other hand against the gritty, concrete wall, looking for purchase. "He explained how you and your followers have taken it upon yourselves to save the world from evil, sacrificing poor innocent sons of bitches in a fruitless attempt to call for help that's not coming."

"You're a non-believer, Johnathan? I find that interesting considering your profession."

"Yeah? Well? I find that I don't really give a crap what you think." John gritted his teeth, pressing his lips together in a fine almost white line and pushed against the wall with his hands. The muscles in his legs pulled taut under the strain. "How'd …. H-How'd you … get them t-to follow your crazy ass plan? Drugs? Spells?"

Father Brown laughed again, followed by the swish sound of a match lighting. John blinked a couple of times as an old oil lantern was lit, illuminating the room enough for John's gaze to take in a figure shrouded in robes, a large hood covered most of his face. "That all depends."

"Depends on what?" John asked almost absentmindedly. He was up, he was standing and now what the fuck was he going to do? It wasn't a sure thing that he would make it from the wall to the stairs without any support and he certainly wouldn't move fast enough to escape. "Well?" John locked his eyes on Brown as the guy reached up and lowered his hood.

"Sometimes you just need to give a little support, a little security … a place that gives some meaning. A lot of my loyal followers came looking for salvation, for a place they could belong. The chance to do good in the world is sometimes inviting enough."

"And Tony?" John seriously doubted the kid had joined this group willingly.

Father Brown rubbed at his chin with a knowing smile before pointing a finger at John "Sometimes people need a little convincing."

"I can't … imagine why …" John looked towards the stairs, to the door, silently wishing an easy solution would present itself.

"Is that sarcasm, I hear? You're mocking our mission?"

"Have you … have you actually heard your plan?"

"That depends …"

"On?"

"On what plan you are talking about."

That got John's attention. "What are you talking about?" Brown stepped forward and suddenly John felt lighter, like it wasn't taking him all his effort to keep standing. He looked down and found nothing out of the ordinary and went to move his hand to his injured ribs … he couldn't move. "What have you done?" John demanded.

"I want your full attention and I find it refreshing to be able to hone my abilities. It is why Tony was such a blessing to our family."

John remembered now, upstairs before the cult had advanced on him, He'd been stuck, held by an invisible force. That had been the old dude? "You're a psychic."

"I hold … certain abilities, powers … but alas not so powerful that I can hide from an inevitable end."

John eyed Brown as the man moved forward, more freely now that John couldn't move a muscle, on the upside? It made his injuries ease up. "Why do I get the sense that you're even more evil than I originally thought?"

"Not evil, Johnathan, just a love for life. I'm not ready to see an end to it, yet."

"That's what the sacrifices are for?"

Brown moved closer, raising a hand to pat John's cheek. "You're as smart as your reputation leads one to assume," the old man said. "Years of research and I finally found what I needed, something that would keep me in the land of the living. It's simple really. No rituals, no blood sacrifices … pure science, a steady hand and there you have it … eternal life."

"No rituals, huh? No blood sacrifices? I would say your victims would say differently … if they weren't dead."

"You are right. Those aren't necessary per se. I was alone for years. But now with my new family? They do the work for me. They follow my lead, they look up to me and I … I rejuvenate, my heart beats stronger, my bones less frail, my organs thrive … I live. Is it such a bad thing that I give my loyal followers something to believe in?"

"And the people you sacrifice?" John asked bitterly, thinking of all the years Tony had been chasing this group … and how many years before that this old fart been selfishly prolonging his life. "What do they get to believe in?"

Brown stood back and nodded thoughtfully, hand back on his own chin, long wrinkled fingers tapping. "That is unfortunate."

"Unfortunate?" John parroted, astounded. He didn't know why he was shocked but he was. "This wasn't about saving evil at all. This was all about you, you son of a bitch!"

"Well …" Brown shrugged and a sly smile formed on his lips. "My followers don't need to know that. They think they are doing good for the world and I get to go on. It's a sacrifice I am comfortable with."

John glared, but didn't dignify that with an answer. "Why didn't you just kill Tony? You obviously knew what he was, what he could bring down on you."

"Ah, you see, it's what he brought to the table that made it worth the risk."

"And what was that?"

"Caleb Reaves … quite a powerful psychic that boy. Yes, Johnathan, I know all about your little secret society. Tony was very helpful once he was 'convinced' to help us. Caleb's psychic ability could have been just what I needed to stop the rejuvenating process from killing my powers."

"Killing your powers?"

"An unfortunate side effect I have yet to discover why. None of that matters now that young Caleb is no longer with us."

John tried to push away the Caleb sized hole in his heart that brought his nausea back to gnaw at him. "Look's like you're stuck with me."

Brown laughed again and John had the sudden urge to want to shove his fist down the old man's throat for that alone. It grated against his nerves. "It is true. You aren't exactly what I was hoping for but you will serve a purpose. Losing the Knight of the Brotherhood and his protégé in one hit? It would be a big blow would it not?" Brown asked, stopping in front of John and placing a hand on his chest. "I am in the market for a new heart."

xXx

"You doing okay?"

Caleb jumped as a hand lightly slapped his back and the bed dipped next to him. His hands tightened in the covers, trying to find something to ground him.

"I'm peachy," Caleb responded after a few convulsive swallows.

"Maybe you shouldn't have left the hospital just yet?"

"I said I was fine!" He'd had this argument with his doctor, his father, Bobby and Dean already once before everyone finally accepted that he was an adult and was allowed to make his own fucking decisions. There wasn't anything keeping him there. He knew how to handle a damn concussion and his … his eyes? Well the Doc had already said there wasn't much more they could do in the hospital and Caleb wasn't sitting on his ass like some pathetic invalid while everyone tried to fix his screw up.

"Yeah, so you've said the first thousand times, Damien, but you can't see yourself."

"Nice … funny … I'm glad you've kept your inappropriate humor through this." The weight of the dark glasses Caleb had demanded someone get for him was heavier than normal. It was a constant reminder that something was wrong, that he didn't just have his eyes closed.

Dean was silent for a few beats, giving Caleb a chance to straighten up, let go of the death grip he had on the motel bed comforter and try to at least look like he wasn't going to fall apart at a moments notice.

"Dude, I'm sorry … I didn't mean …"

Caleb rolled his eyes and huffed. "Shut up … I don't want apologies; I just don't want to be treated like a baby."

"And we're not."

"Really?"

"No, Damien, it's called looking out for you. Your Dad … we're all just worried about you."

"How about you worry about Johnny? He's the one that's in trouble." It had come back to him in the hospital, the whole damn thing. He'd led them into a trap, a trap that he had been warned about. John hadn't trusted the situation and Caleb had waltzed right in like a fucking amateur … and now John had paid the price.

"We're working on it. We've been back to the bar, we've … we've got some leads. Mac, he's been using his mojo - trying to get a read off Dad's car keys. He's still alive, Damien."

"For now."

"He's going to stay that way. We're going to find him."

"Did you … did you go back to the old run down church Tony told me about? It was in one of his last reports before he turned his back on us."

"Yeah, man. It's empty. Mac and Bobby are there now, seeing if they can find some something, or get a read on something."

"Where's the runt?"

"He went with them."

"I should be out there!" Caleb growled, standing suddenly and almost tipping over with the sudden movement. He managed to right himself and then stopped. He didn't know where the hell to go. He didn't know what was around him. This place wasn't familiar. "I should be helping, not sitting here with my thumbs up my ass."

"How? You can barely navigate this motel room. How are you going to go on a hunt?"

"This isn't just any hunt!" Caleb shouted in the direction Dean last was. He hadn't heard the mattress springs creak so he assumed the younger man was still seated.

"Exactly!" Dean snapped back, followed by the spring uncoiling, Dean had stood and Caleb raised his hands in front of him slightly, losing perception of his surroundings. "This isn't just some hunt. This is Dad, Damien!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we can't hunt and rescue Dad and worry …" Dean stopped mid sentence and Caleb found himself turning to face the loud deep breath. Glad to have Dean's location again.

"And worry about me, right?"

"You could get hurt, Caleb," Dean stated softly.

"What do you expect me to do, Dean?" Sitting still had never been a skill that Caleb had excelled in and now it was so much worse.

He felt like he was in this black hole, floating around aimlessly while his family put themselves on the line because of him. At the same time he felt claustrophobic … like he was stuck in this little dark space and he couldn't get out no matter how much he tried. It was suffocating and it frightened him. If he was going crazy now? How would he be if this blindness was permanent?

"I want you to take it easy, stop fighting us every step of the way … listen," There was a hand on his wrist and Caleb only tensed for a moment, knowing it was his friend but still hating that he couldn't see what was around him, having to make do with smell and sound. It was like someone had cut off his arms. He begrudgingly let Dean lead him back to the bed. When he felt the edge of the mattress brush against his leg, Caleb sat down and shrugged out of Dean's grasp, ignoring his sigh. "Listen, I know you're scared …"

"I'm fine."

"Cut the bullshit, Stevie Wonder."

Caleb flinched but forced a smirk to form and glanced in Dean's direction. "Please … I'm more like Han Solo after the carbon freeze."

"You're scared." Dean wasn't biting. "Don't pretend you're anything but, because I aint buying what you're selling, dude. And I get it, man, I do. I don't blame you but going off half cocked and blind as batshit isn't going to help you and it certainly isn't going to help Dad."

"I just … I just don't want to be kept in the dark, Deuce. I already am literally … and I can't …?" Caleb pressed his lips together, jaw clenching. "This is my fault …"

"Damien…"

"Shut up and let me finish."

"Sorry." Dean patted Caleb's jean clad knee and then removed his hand from Caleb's space, simply sitting there beside him. "Go on …"

"This is my fault and I need to be a part of this or I'm gonna go nuts. I need this, man." If John didn't make it out of this? If he died because of Caleb's lack of judgement? The blindness would be the least of his worries. Caleb would never forgive himself. "I need to help bring him home."

"He's coming home, Damien and he's … he's gonna be fine."

Caleb chuckled, a dark tone morphing the sound. Dean was scared. He might have been saying all the right positive things but Caleb wasn't a fool. He knew his friend inside and out. He knew the different inflections in the kid's voice and what they meant. He was putting on a show for his benefit. Caleb reached up and removed the sunglasses while his other hand moved in to rub at his useless eyes.

"Damien, are you okay?"

"What?" Caleb automatically blinked and turned to look at his friend, finding nothing. Just a big fucking abyss. "I told yo… aghh!" He yelped, his hand rushing up to his temple where a bandage still covered the bullet's graze.

"Dude …"

Caleb waved his other hand in the vague direction of his friend, dismissing his concern until another painful spike hit, sending fireworks off in his head. Dean's hands were on him now. The kid had moved in front of him, hands on both shoulders. Dean's grip was tight. He was freaking out. "Damien, speak to me, man."

"God …" Caleb had meant to speak; he really had … until he'd been robbed of breath. "Fuck … not n-now!" One hand pressed hard against his head, Caleb reached out and gripped Dean's arm hard. He slipped forward off the mattress, his body curling into itself against the nausea inducing lightning bolts hitting his head.

"Mac! Mac, hurry! I … I think he's having a vision! Just hurry!"

For a second Caleb thought his father had returned. He was spinning, didn't know which way was up and down. And all thoughts scattered across his mind. Flashes of white danced and zipped around the darkness he'd been encased in, the edges of black sizzling and fading as a vision took hold of him.

xXx

Caleb was having a vision. It put Sam on edge. The movies in Caleb's head were rarely good and he'd over heard Mac and Bobby talking in the hospital about the possible negative effects of Caleb experiencing a vision after his head wound.

Sam couldn't sit still, his young body on edge; almost trembling with anticipation of what they would find when they reached the motel, of what Caleb might be seeing. Was he seeing his Dad's death? The thought made Sam's heart leap into his throat. The thought of losing him terrified the young teen.

"Can we go any faster?"

"Goin' as fast as I can, Mac," Bobby remarked from the driver seat.

"He'll be okay, Mac. Dean is with him," Sam tried to comfort the Scholar even though he knew Mac wouldn't be happy until he was there with Caleb in front of him.

"I'm sure you're right, Sam."

Sam held onto the arm rest with a white knuckled grip as Bobby rounded a corner a little too fast, tyres squealing. Sam wasn't scared, not of that, because he knew that Bobby was an excellent driver. It was the one thing he was sure of right now.

His small body rocked forward as Bobby skidded to a stop outside the motel room door, an old couple sitting outside at the table outside of their room, looked at them disgruntled by the hazardous driving.

As soon as the car was in park, Sam had the door open and was racing for their room only to stop short when he remembered Mac had the keys. Sam turned to see if they were coming and came face to face with the psychic's torso. He stepped aside quickly and Mac wasted no time in unlocking the door and rushing right in. Bobby followed, leaving Sam last to close the door behind them.

"Caleb!"

Mac's voice was fearful and Sam found himself biting his bottom lip as he took in the sight of Caleb on the floor, his upper body in Dean's arms. Caleb's eyes were open slightly and he was sweating, breathing hard like he had run a marathon. "Is he okay?"

"I … I dunno. He just came out of it," Dean told them shakily.

"Caleb … son?" Mac lowered himself to one knee and took the younger psychic's chin in his hand.

There was no spark in Caleb's gold orbs, the were dull and lifeless and Sam had been having a hard time looking at them since Caleb had woken up in the hospital but at the same time it was hard to look away.

Caleb shook, and jerked in Dean's grasp but seem to come back to himself. "J-John …"

"Caleb, it's me, your father. Can you tell us what you saw, son?" The doctor placed two fingers to Caleb's throat, checking his pulse.

"Dad? Oh shit!"

"Damien, what is it?" Dean asked, his eyes glued to his friend. Sam wasn't even sure his brother had looked up at their entrance.

"Fuck … Dad, John … it's bad … t-they mutilated him … took his heart … oh God, I think I'm gonna be sick." Caleb moaned.

Sam jumped out of the way when Bobby moved fast, grabbing Caleb by the arm and helping him up. Caleb seemed to get the idea and got his feet working enough to stumble along with Bobby's helpful silent direction.

Sam wrinkled his nose as the sound of retching met his ears. Mac was already on his feet and heading over to the bathroom. Dean, however, stayed where he had been sitting with Caleb, his hands shaking a little. Sam was sure his brother was still a little in a world of his own. He rarely let Sam see him like this.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean finally looked up, his features schooling a little now and he stood on shaky legs. "I will be, Sam, when we have Dad back."

"Me too." Sam agreed, swallowing thickly. "Me too."

TBC …

A/N-2: I really hope you all enjoyed that. I know I am bad and evil for leaving you with a cliffy again. There is something in my brain that signals and end to a chapter when I get to these parts LOL I hope to not take so long this time. I will try!

In other news before I allow you to read? Jim Beaver has officially signed on to do conventions in Sydney and Melbourne in May 2010. OMG I am excited. To finally get to meet that man? WooHoo! I'm looking forward to seeing who the other stars will be :)

Also, this year at KazCon I participated in the Writing and Vidding Charity Auctions. Sandy, bought me asked for a Sam video to the song "Find Your Way" by a local Chicago Band called Lovehammers. I fell in love with the song and it tells Sam's story really well. I had an awesome time making it :)

Here is the link if you so wish to view it ...

http : // www . / watch ? v = OiZUioOY0Tk & feature = channel _ page

... or check my profile page for the link to my YouTube page :)

Have a good week everyone :)

Tara x0x