The Anniversary Part Triginta
By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right,
he usually has a son who thinks he's wrong. ~Wadworth
Mackland Ames sat at the resort bar, sipping slowly at his brandy. It was a rare occasion in which he allowed himself to indulge. He'd been hoping that Caleb would be joining him, but he'd been waiting for him for an hour now. A quick check to his videophone showed that Caleb was running late and would be arriving soon. He'd never gotten used to these technological advancements that were supposed to make life simpler and 'bring people closer together', as the advertisements repeated incessantly.
The Youtube youth had become a virtual generation who could literally video chat with anyone in a nanosecond, access information in a heartbeat, and instantaneously send and receive files with handheld super-computers. It was supposed to enrich the human race, but to Mackland, it seemed to only isolate them.
He could see why crime had been escalating over time; people were becoming lonely. Humans were social creatures; they needed contact...to touch, to feel, and surround their senses with something other than a computer screen. Lonely people were dangerous, to themselves, and to others.
The FBI, even with their new artificial intelligence profiling systems, and DNA databases couldn't keep up with the spike in kidnappings. Even though he'd been retired nearly ten years, the FBI still had his phone number and didn't hesitate to call him on the more--disturbing cases. The doctor didn't have it in him to say 'no'. Once he'd heard about the case, he agreed to help try to find the missing children.
The glass in his hand started to shake, so he slug back the last couple gulps of alcohol and nodded for the bartender to fill it up again. He'd worked on hundreds of missing person cases, found countless bodies: men, women, and children, in the years he'd been on retainer with the feds. This one though, he couldn't shake. The last few nights he'd woken them up with his nightmares, awoke in a cold sweat and Esme worriedly holding him. His wife begged for him to tell her what the nightmares had been about, but the top secret nature of the case put a strain on their relationship, as he was unable to speak about it.
It was still strange for him to think of himself as a married man, as he'd been a bachelor for the significant portion of his life. Both of their children were grown men when they'd finally made that last leap into 'sealing the deal'. There were times where he'd nearly forgotten that 'he' was now a 'they', even though they'd shared their lives, their homes, and their beds for years.
In some ways, they both had relished their independence and it had taken some adjusting to making their marriage work, especially with their 'extended' family. Their boys fought like true step-brothers--forgetting the fact that they were in their forties and nearing fifty years of age. Esme's son, Joshua was married and had a family of his own now. So, not only did they have to adjust to having 'sons', but also a house full of grandchildren, which now included the Winchester children. He still held on to the hope that Caleb would one day change his mind about settling down... but his son told him not to hold his breath.
His memory was being put to the test, as he was forced to remember countless birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. Mac was ashamed to say that a couple of the important days had slipped his mind, but there was one anniversary that he couldn't forget: the day he'd met Caleb.
It was an anniversary that he and his son always celebrated, no matter how busy: if even they could only celebrate it through the phone if distance separated them. At first, Mac was afraid to leave the boy alone on that day. Unfortunately, the day they met signified the day that Caleb wanted to erase from his memories. It was the day that his parents had died: his birth parents, and years later, his foster parents. Mackland had been too late to save the family that had taken the boy in, but thankfully stopped the boy from going over the edge in order to follow them. As the years passed, it had been as he'd promised: a day that was special to the both of them. Slowly, his son's memories of death were replaced with memories of life.
He looked at his diamond gold watch, given to him by his son on his birthday; it was now 5:30pm, a full two hours from when Caleb promised to meet him at the Glade Springs Resort, the same resort they had spent their first anniversary. The bartender asked him if he wanted another drink and he nodded. He felt his muscles start to relax as the alcohol kicked in.
------------
Caleb Reaves walked into the antique resort; the company prided themselves on keeping everything the way the original owners had intended. When there were so many places fighting to keep up with the latest and greatest devices, it was wonderful to just kick back and not have to worry about infrared security monitoring, video feeds, and uploading footage on the virtualnet. The Brotherhood Geek squad was working overtime trying to remove all the traces of the last feed. But, honestly, how was he supposed to know that the victim had been wirelessly sending footage of the werewolf attack to his book agent? When Carolyn had told him the attack was posted on the 'net and that the man had been planning on selling it to promote his memoires, he'd been speechless.
He was happy to see that some places stayed the way he remembered as a teen. It brought back memories of his father and grandfather trying to make the day special for him. Caleb smiled as he saw the antique golf carts; his grandfather nearly ran both of them down trying to get to the course. He was surprised to see the old machines still running; they don't make them like they used to, he thought.
Walking over to the maître de, he asked the man where his father was. Snottily, the man pointed at the bar. "Do you wish to be seated, sir?"
Caleb shook his head, "Not right now... maybe in a little while." Walking past the podium, he took his time to observe his father before he caught his attention. Esme had worriedly called him along the way, explaining that Mac wasn't fairing very well since the FBI had sent him on a case.
He wanted to swear at them or worse! Mackland was getting along in his years; his hair had long since lost all color, leaving him with a near Santa Claus-like appearance. He was semi-retired from hunting, only helping out if Sam needed an extra hand with research and hadn't worked in the field for the last few years. Caleb laughed as Dean's sons put his father through his paces; the older man truly enjoyed every minute, but everyone noticed that he was slowing down. There was no reason for the FBI to keep calling on him. The man was retired! He deserved to settle down and enjoy it. He didn't need cases so disturbing that it gave him nightmares.
Watching, he saw Mac gulping the drink in his hand and closed his eyes tightly at the sight. When he opened them again, he ran his fingers though his speckled hair then went over to where Mac was sitting. He forced himself to take on a nonchalant tone as he gently griped his shoulder, "Hey, Dad. Start the celebrating without me, huh?"
Although he had been trying not to startle the older man, he winced as Mac jumped at his contact. His father quickly recovered, smiling and hugging him upon his arrival. "Caleb, how was the trip, son? I hope that nothing serious held you up." Mac quickly reversed the conversation back to him.
Fingering the envelope in his pocket, Caleb just shook his head, "No, just paperwork. You know, this 'paperless' government we have is actually using up twice as much paper as we used to. Sorry to keep you waiting."
He sat down next to his father, studying him. While he had aged in that manly distinguished manner, Mackland looked tired lately. The evidence of his sleepless nights were clear in his baggy dark eyes, making him look haggard. His face was pale in the fluorescent bar lighting.
The bartender approached him asking him if he wanted a drink, his father held up his glass for a refill, and he asked for a draft beer. The hard liquor would have to wait. The bartender poured Mac's glass to half and handed Caleb a frosted beer mug with the amber colored liquid.
"Are you done studying me yet, son?" Caleb was jarred from his examination. He looked up to see his father's eyes teasing him.
He huffed, "You do it to me all of the time. Now, you can't take it, huh?"
"I usually have a good reason-- you're usually bleeding or unconscious."
"Not all of the time." Caleb laughed, gently nudging Mac's shoulder with his own. He felt the older man loose his balance and quickly reacted, gripping him around the shoulder before he toppled off the barstool. His mirth became worry. "You alright?"
Mac put his hand to his head, as if dizzy. "Yeah. I think I just had too much to drink."
Drinking too much was something Caleb could understand; he didn't drink to excess often, but there certainly were days when he wanted to. "Have you eaten?"
Rolling his eyes, Mac spoke in annoyance, "I was waiting for you, Caleb. I wasn't expecting that our late lunch would turn into dinner." He lifted his eyes and glared at his son.
As usual, Caleb ignored the glare and he'd long gotten used to his father being sarcastic. In his teenaged years, it was constant: anytime he and John Winchester were in a room together, especially if they were fighting. John fought by raising his voice, Mac fought with sarcasm. It made the boring days pass by with a little entertainment. He remembered Bobby jumping in with his brand of humor, trying to diffuse the arguments; most of the time, it backfired, turning the attention on him instead of each other. It wasn't until Sam's teenaged years that he'd finally realized that Bobby did it on purpose. Unfortunately, Bobby's jokes didn't work on the two stubborn Winchesters. No matter how many times he tried, John and Sam were unable to stop butting heads.
"I said that I was sorry... I was picking up your present, so you better be nice or I won't give it to you." Caleb teased.
Mac looked at him with surprise. "My present?"
Caleb gulped the last of his beer, then gently guided his father out of the bar area. "Yes, it is our anniversary."
"We don't give each other presents on this anniversary... We agreed that it was just a day to spend time together. We always have." The doctor was puzzled, the alcohol making it hard for him to focus. Caleb would've called it being 'buzzed'. "And--where are we going? I thought we were going to have dinner?" He asked this as he was being led toward the elevator.
Caleb just smiled, pulling him towards the open doors of the lift and waiting for it to close behind them. Leaning, he pressed the 'penthouse' button. The elevator hummed as it took them up to the top floor. "Patience, Dad."
Once the doors opened, Caleb led them both to the suite he'd rented. He pulled out the key and unlocked the door. The key was the old fashioned metal; he loved the feel of them. The new key-fob systems, while functional, lacked a physical connection. Never mind the fact that John used to make him pick every lock in the house in less then 10 minutes or he'd have to run laps. Having to hack a computer to unlock a door was frustrating... he left that up to Sam and his computer-obsessed squad. Kids these days wouldn't know how to pick a lock if their lives depended on it. They were so used to running a key along a keypad and having the doors automatically open for them. In a way, he felt sorry for them.
The room was incredible; the view was out-of-this-world. You could see the New River Gorge Bridge from the windows and the sun was starting to set, hues of blue, purple, and red shown along the white walls; God was the ultimate artist creating a beauty that was unmatched. The maids had set up the room as he'd requested, candle light brightened the room and gave the area a calming scent of vanilla. The table was set for two; wine chilled in the metal bucket, and plates of appetizers were arranged around the table.
Caleb walked in and threw his suit jacket on the chair near the fireplace. He'd wanted to dress up for the occasion; for once, he figured it would be a good idea not to show up in a ripped up pair of jeans. Mackland walked in cautiously, looking around. "Caleb, what's going on? Is something wrong?"
A laugh escaped the younger man before he could stop it, "Wrong? Why do you think something is wrong?"
Mac was not smiling; if anything he looked incredibly worried. He licked his lips, "You've never done anything like this before..."
Grasping his father's hands in his, Caleb squeezed him reassuringly. "I know. But, like I said, this is a special occasion and I figured that, just this once, I'd used some of that Ames money that I've inherited."
Mac stopped him before he could pull away, "Is this about Cullen deciding to pass along the family business to Joshua? The both of us have asked you countless times if you were alright with it-- and you've never shown an interest in it the way that Joshua has--."
"No, Dad. It's not about that-- I've agreed that Joshua is the best person to run the Ames Foundation on a day-to-day basis. You know Deuce keeps me busy as the Knight; I'm rarely home and when I am, I keep getting suckered into babysitting. The time I do have for a normal life, I focus on Tri-Corp and my architectural designs. Josh may not have been born into this family--but, he's still apart of it. Hell, Cullen was ecstatic when he found out that Josh was a business man -- the PR training was the cherry on top. I still own majority holdings; I just don't have to go crazy at board meetings--I'll leave that to my 'brother'. Plus, I'll never admit this again, but Joshua deserves to feel like he's apart of this family. The way that Harland had treated him--hell, the way that we all treated him--I know he's felt like an outsider." He tapped his head, "The day Cullen told him to call him 'Grandpa'... I think the part of him that his father broke down started to heal."
There was a look of pride in his father's eyes as he spoke. It was like the one he'd given him when he was thirteen, when he'd sit with the traumatized five year old little boy and read to him. That little boy had become his little brother, inheriting all of the responsibilities, problems, and love that came along with him. He'd always been an only child, first with the Reaves, then as the adopted son of Mackland Ames; he never would've guessed that he'd have three brothers as an adult. Sam, Dean, and yes--even Joshua had become his brothers. He couldn't imagine his life without them.
Leading his father to the table, he gently pushed him into the chair and then poured them a bit of wine. He nudged the plate of gourmet cheese and crackers to his father, then selected his own to snack on. The waiter picked that moment to come in and drop off the first two courses: the salad, steak, and baked potato would keep them for while.
Caleb watched as Mac picked at his plate; while the doctor was notorious for eating 'healthy' meals, he didn't begrudge an occasional splurge of red meat. Caleb cut a piece of steak, remarking "You've barely touched your plate, Mac" before chewing on the tender roasted meat.
His father put his fork and knife down, picking up the glass flute to take of sip of wine before answering, "I guess that I'm not hungry..."
"When was the last time you ate?" Caleb asked gently; he knew that his father hadn't been eating proper meals--his stepmother made him promise to get him to eat.
Mac looked away from his son, trying not to get angry. "Esme called you." It was a statement.
The younger man knew his father was upset; some people got loud when they were mad, Mac just got softer. He didn't want his family to fight, so he picked the middle ground. "She's worried about you. I'm worried too." He took another sip of wine, trying to decide whether or not to try to read his father.
The plates on the table rattled as Mac threw his cloth napkin down forcefully. "I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about. I've told her that several times and now, I'm telling you."
Caleb continued as if he didn't hear him, "She says you've been having nightmares about the case the FBI asked you to investigate. She also says you haven't been sleeping or eating the last week."
The glare that was sent his way could've vaporized the building, "Perhaps she's wrong."
He put down his fork and knife, wiping at his mouth. "According to Deuce, a wife is never wrong; that is, unless you want to sleep on the couch." It was said in a light-hearted way, as Caleb tried to keep the situation from jumping out of proportion (or his control). He didn't want to get into a fight with his father on their anniversary.
Slowly, he got out of his chair and walked behind Mac's. Confidently, he placed his hands on his father's shoulders. From the light touch, he could feel the older man tense. "I know, Dad," he whispered into his ear. "I had Sam hack the FBI files."
Mac's breath caught, "No." He cried out, "It's classified; Sam could've been caught."
Caleb stopped him before he could continue into what he called 'lecture-mode'. "He wasn't. And, I asked him to. I needed to know how bad..."
With that said, Mac's face paled further. "Did you tell Esme?"
"No." Caleb twisted so that he could kneel in front of the chair. Once he was in front of his father, he let one hand rest on the back of his neck, and the other rested along the arm of the chair. "I didn't tell her. I didn't want to give her nightmares too."
They sat there for a while, not speaking; Caleb gave his support the way that he'd been taught, comforting and patient. "I'm proud of you, Dad. You found those kids when no one else could. You could've just blown them off, but you didn't, because you are a good man."
Mac's eyes filled with unshed tears, "Did the report tell you what their condition was when I found them?" His hands started shaking as he ran them through his silver hair.
Caleb inched closer, his voice clear and unyielding; "It's not your fault."
"I couldn't save them." This time, Caleb didn't need to press; his mind touched his father's and he saw what Mac saw, and felt what he felt.
"You tried. That's what matters. You tried to save them." Caleb said soothingly.
"Do you know how many people watched? There were over thirty thousand hits. The video was watched thirty thousand times, Caleb. And no one tried to save them." Mac covered his mouth to keep from yelling obscenities. "They were human... all of them. And they just--watched as children were ripped apart. Some of them, encouraged it."
Mac felt his son rub his neck, "I'm sorry that you had to see that, Dad."
"You don't seem surprised."
Caleb nodded, "Unfortunately, ever since Youtube started in the early 2000s, people have been posting horrific videos of people being murdered. The virtualnet and the new 'alternate reality' just made it worse. People are plugged into the virtual world and they seem to forget there's a real world out here that needs them; that people can have real connections." With that, he gripped Mac's hands tightly in his own. "Don't forget that you have us, Dad. You aren't alone."
Taking in a deep breath, Mac pulled himself back together, using the support his son was giving him freely. "I know that, Caleb and I thank god for that fact every day." He stroked his son's brow, pushing the long hair out of his face, smiling at the fact that his hair was starting to gray. "I just wish you would change your mind about marriage and children."
The younger man laughed, "What, you and Esme don't have enough grandkids running around?" He pulled himself off the floor, masking a groan when his knees creaked with the beginnings of arthritis. "Plus, in exchange for 'sharing' the family business with Josh, I've taken his first born son. Everyone knows that Max is mine--he just lives with Josh and Carolyn." He said it tongue-in-cheek, a wicked grin gracing his handsome face. "I would've taken Ben too, but I think that you beat me to him." He arched an eyebrow at his father, "After all, he's following in your footsteps."
Mac gave a small grin, "I just encourage him to follow his dreams."
"Yeah, I heard he's thinking of applying to Cornell... Hey, wasn't that your alma matter, Dad?" Caleb teased him, of course having heard about both Cornell and Johns Hopkins from the time he'd been in high school. The man had always wanted a doctor in the family; once he'd realized that Caleb had majored in architecture, he'd quickly turned his focus on Dean--teaching the teen medical skills necessary in the life of a hunter in hopes of encouraging him towards medical school. Dean had instead chosen a career in hunting; or rather, the decision had been made for him by his father and little brother. His best friend was incredibly loyal to his family and as long as they needed him, he wouldn't leave their side. Mac and Jim were saddened; Caleb and Sam both 'left the nest' to go to college and, for at least a short while, experienced a normal life. Dean did not; at least not until he met Juliet in his thirties. It was funny, Caleb thought, Dean was the only one who didn't search for a 'normal life' and he was the only one that got it. The wife, the kids, hell, even the dogs--Dean had it all.
An exaggerated sip of wine answered his question. Once the wine glass was put down, Caleb took it away. "I think that's enough wine... eat something." He pointed towards his plate, "The steak is really good. Best I've had in a while."
His father took the hint and started to eat. As he ate, Caleb happily noticed the color starting to return to his cheeks. He must've been hungry. They both ate their meal with a relish. Caleb entertained the both of them with stories of the Adventures of JT and Max. Mac cracked up when he heard about the boys 'freeing' the barn animals. He remarked that it reminded him of Caleb's childhood, bringing up the 'goat incident' again.
The waiter had come in later, clearing the table and bringing them coffee, tea, and desserts. The fireplace was lit and created a warm and inviting atmosphere as the sun went down. "How is Ben doing? He seems to be settling in well."
"The kid's a trooper; just like his old man. He's pretty much adapted to life at the farm." They chatted about the boys for a while longer, relaxing in the glow of the fire and enjoying the comfortable surroundings. Once the waiter cleared the table, both men decided to move next to the fireplace.
The older man relaxed in front of the fire, almost dozing off. Caleb stared at him, not for the first time noticing how much the man had changed over time...how much they had both changed. He quietly walked over to the chair where he'd thrown his jacket and pulled out the envelope that he'd struggled to attain for today.
It caught his father's eye, causing him to stir from his sleepiness. "What's that, son?" The doctor sat up straight, stretching out before relaxing again. Caleb walked over to him, positioning his chair in front of his father's and sat down.
For a second, Caleb hesitated; He knew that he shouldn't be afraid--after all of this time, there wasn't anything in the world that he could do that would tear their family apart. His childhood fears of being rejected by his adoptive father were just that--childish and unsubstantiated. This was something that he needed to do. It was something that he'd wanted for a long time. "It's your anniversary present." He handed his father the envelope, and watched as his fingers tore it open and pulled out the official-looking letter.
Mac had been curious about the content of the yellow package; he'd seen the fear flicker across his son's eyes before he handed it to him and gathered his strength in opening what he assumed was an important document. He carefully tore at the seal and pulled out the letter. His gaze flew to his son's; Caleb smiled at him encouragingly, so he unfolded the crease and started reading the letter.
The beginning was standard: dates, salutations, congratulations... The doctor skimmed the letter for the important content and halted when his eyes caught words that had only been put together in his own mind and most secret dreams: Caleb Ames. His son was watching him anxiously, and he couldn't piece it together, so he re-read the letter.
The most important line stood out to him: The legal petition to change the name of Caleb Reaves to Caleb Ames has been granted. He stared at it until the words became blurred and he didn't understand why. Caleb had taken the letter from his unresisting hands and put it aside. One of his son's warm hands gripped his tightly and he wiped his face that was suddenly wet with the other, gently cupping his face
Caleb watched his father's reaction to the letter in dread. Perhaps he had made a mistake... He wiped the older man's tears and held him as he cried, praying to God to find the words to make things better, but unable to, since his own heart was breaking. He was surprised to find his own face wet with tears. Mac had pulled out of his embrace and cupped his neck with both hands. He seemed to be trying to catch his breath as he placed a kiss on his forehead shakily. "Why?" He whispered. "Why, now?"
Caleb lifted his eyes to the man, "I just--," he licked his lips to keep from crying, "I just realized one simple fact. You are my father. You raised me, you took care of me--hell, Dad, you still take care of me and you love me. I love you, you know; even though I don't say it. You're my dad; you've always been."
Mac's eyes refilled and he couldn't stop the next round of tears, as he found the way to speak. "I love you too, son."
"It's funny, Dad... I saw the way Dean was heartbroken after he finally found out about Ben being his son and I told him that it didn't matter when they started to be a family; that he was that boy's father the minute he let him into his heart. Then I started thinking about you... and that Isaac Reaves may have shared his genetics with me, but you--not him--made me the man that I am today. I think that I had put him on a pedestal of 'what might have been' in my mind, making him perfect and it was stupid because you were in front of me the entire time...and I just--realized that I am an Ames. I am your son. I figured that it was time to make it official."
"Are you okay with this, dad?" Caleb rubbed his hands up and down the doctor's arms, trying to comfort him in the emotional moment.
He just nodded for a while, not letting his son out of his arms. Once the tears stopped, he whispered, "Thank you... This is the best present you've ever gotten me, son."
His son pressed his cheek against his head, hugging him. "Oh, come on, Dad. I think your fiftieth birthday present was awesome. Everyone needs a Rolex." He tapped the watch in question. They sat there for a couple more minutes until Caleb pulled away. The older man was still dabbing at his eyes.
"Wanna go for a walk?" He smiled, "I hear that the fifth longest bridge in the world is right outside the resort..."
Mac sniffed, then straightened, eyes still shining brightly. "Really? Is it the fifth now? I thought it was still the second?"
Caleb helped him out of the chair, then wrapped his arms around his shoulders as they walked together. "It was, but the new bridges they built in China connecting the Himalayas knocked it out of the running." He continued talking as they both walked the same path they'd taken thirty years before, and he discovered that as usual, his father was usually right: this was definitely the best present he'd ever given them.
The End
PS- This story was inspired by Ridley C. James Legacy Series: Titled The Ties That Bind. After I read that story and the part where Caleb said he changed his name and Mac cried like a girl... I knew that I had to write that story! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!