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For the longest moment, both Dean and Caleb simply stared at each other.

The expression on Caleb's face tired and very angry.

Dean's was simply tired, and he raised a weary right eyebrow. "Something the matter, Damien?"

That was the last straw for Caleb, who exploded with a tsunami of rage and shock.

"What-is-the-MATTER!" he raged. He stood up, because he was obviously too pissed off to sit.

He started off by pacing, and eventually ended up standing by Dean.

For a brief moment, Dean was sure that Caleb was going to slug him, despite the fact that he was in a hospital bed, despite the fact that Caleb had never before struck him.

Angry amber eyes met jade-green ones as flat as glass.

Caleb's hands clenched tightly as he shifted his weight slightly.

He swallowed hard. "Jesus, I wish to God I could punch your lights out. Maybe it would knock some fucking sense into your goddamn head!"

Dean gave him a twisted grin, his cheeks still containing the lurid flush from his slowly receding fever.

"Well," he replied. "You can always wait til' after I'm outta the hospital. Then you can wallop on me to your heart's content. How's that sound? That blow your skirt up Damien?"

Dean watched as Caleb's fists tightened even further and it looked as though he was going skip the part of the hospital release, and punch Dean right now. He even drew back his fist.

But then he stopped, let his arms dangle by his side.

Dean wanted to ask if this meant that he wasn't going to get his ass kicked right now.

He dragged himself into a better sitting position, gasping as fiery agony erupted from his shoulder, damn near making himself puke.

The sound didn't go uninterrupted by Caleb, who despite his hurt and anger, bent slightly over Dean. "Deuce, you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," he managed to gasp out. He even managed to reach out and grasp Caleb's forearm. "You love me like a brother… right Damien?"

Caleb frowned, not liking where this was heading. "You are my brother, Deuce. You damn well know that."

Dean stared up at him, his jade eyes scary in their intensity from their bed of darkened hollowed sockets. "Well… think about it. What if it had been me that had gotten stabbed at Cold Creek? Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing?"

Opening his mouth, Caleb found he could not argue with him. In his mind, he pictured himself holding a cold and lifeless Dean… and it made him physically ill. His stomach actually started to roil.

To Dean's utter horror, there was a glimmer of tears in Caleb's amber eyes, shimmering in the florescent overhead lighting.

He sat back down, swiping roughly down his face. "Shit," Caleb murmed. "Fuck."

Then he sat, and placed his head in his hands and remained that way for the longest time.

Dean was starting to get worried when Caleb finally raised his head.

His eyes were bloodshot, hollow… and full of incredible sadness.

He closed them briefly for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was heavy.

"You're right," Caleb's shoulders slumped. "If it had been you, I would've done it in a instant. Hell, I would've done it for Sammy, too. 'Cause I love him like a little brother, too… but you… you we've always had a special bond. When I met you, you were a traumatized, mute little five-year-old. And I was a confused, slightly stuck-up teenager. I baby-sat you, when John had to take Sammy to the doctor and shit like that. And found we had so much in common. You became my brother."

"Then Jim and Johnny both died, and I became the Knight… it was my job to protect you. And I failed you guys… miserably."

Shakily, Dean reached over and grabbed on of Caleb's hands.

Sighing softly, Dean said "You didn't fail me Damien… If there's been one person who always had my back, it was you."

"But I-"

Dean shook his his head. "Cold Oak was a clusterfuck of epic proportions… but it was a clusterfuck that was all planned out by ole' Yellow Eyes."

Caleb swallowed hard. "Well, I should've- should've known. That Oliver and his family getting killed was just a red herring. I should've been with you."

"No," Dean's voice was curiously gentle. "You were where you needed to be. Moose was your friend."

Shaking furiously, as if afflected by a sudden and violnt palsy, Caleb erupted. "Yes, he was my friend. But he was already dead! There was nothing I could for him-"

Dean gave him the barest of smiles. "No. There was nothing you could do for Moose. But you could try to find his killer… which you were doing."

"And gave you a death sentence!"

"No. I choose my own fate. Nobody put a gun to my head."

"I should've been there with you. I could've stopped you from-" Caleb cut himself off as Dean shot him a angry look.

"What, stopped me from saving Sammy? Dude, even if you were there, it would've turned out the same way. I watch out for him. He's my younger brother."

That was the crux of the matter. It didn't matter if Caleb had been there or not. Dean would have done the exact same thing.

Caleb sat back down and defiantly crossed his arms.

"Yeah? Well, let me repeat some wise words said to me by a smart little kid a long time ago. I draw dragons, bring pizza and I watch out for Dean," Caleb swallowed hard. "For the last twenty fucking years, you've been my little brother. And I'm going to fix this."

Dean closed his eyes tightly. "I already told you Damien. I try to welsh on the deal, and Sam's back to being dead."

Caleb waved a hand. "Then we find a different way. Maybe Esme would-"

Cracking a small grin, Dean said. "Esme? As in your Dad's girlfriend Esme? Joshua Sawyer's mother?"

Growling, Caleb replied. "Yes. That Esme. She is a witch, you know, and belongs to a powerful coven. Maybe they, or one of the others could come up with a spell or potion."

Honestly, Dean hadn't considered that avenue of attack. Witchcraft Vs. Demons.

But he really wasn't about to stake his younger brother's life on anything that wasn't a sure bet.

Caleb saw and correctly read the hesitation on his face. "C'mon Deuce, this could work. Whatever I have against Josh, I do respect his gifts, and his mothers," he paused, hesitating. "You do trust me, right?"

Dean gave him a dark look. "What kind of stupid question is that Damien? I've trusted you with my life since I was five-years-old."

Caleb felt his eyes start to burn once more at Dean plainly put, heartfelt statement. He swiped at the watering objects, which had flowed over onto his cheeks.

"Damn allergies," he muttered, rubbing at them harder. "Or I think maybe a bug flew into one of em'."

Dean gave a faint smile, but faded just as quickly as agony ripped through his heart.

He could count on one the number of times he'd seen Caleb cry.

He watched as Caleb's teeth clenched tightly together, and he inhaled deeply.

Finally he spoke. "Does that mean you're not going to try? That you're just going to give up?"

"No." came a voice from the hallway.

Sam was standing there, silhouetted by the extra-bright florescent lighting, holding yet another coffee cup in his hand.

"No," Sam repeated, stepping into the hospital room. "He's not giving up. I won't let him."

Dean sighed, having a feeling that another hour or two had just been added to the conversation.

So he sank down more heavily in the hospital bed, and prepared himself for round two.