Migraine sucks!
By Meilean
Rated: T (to be on the save side)
Summary: Supernatural Brotherhood AU: Caleb wants to meet with his family at the farm for Thanksgiving but suffers through a bad attack. But he has a loving family which cares for him. Sick!/Comfort!
Disclaimer: All Supernatural belongs to Kripke and the Brotherhood AU belongs to Ridley C. James.
A/N: For all you out there, who suffer sometimes under a migraine attack. I hope you find your way to deal with it for a normal life and have some people around to be with you and give their love.
*** Brotherhood AU ***
Thanksgiving weekend 1991- New Haven, KY
Caleb Reaves woke slowly. He hadn't dreamed tonight what was a good thing. Usually dreams never meant something good. As a kid and long through his teenage years he dreamt the same dream every night and woke scared and sweat soaked when his father pulled the trigger and ended his own life in front of his six-year-old son.
As he found a new family or his family him, however, the dreams about his family's murder/suicide got less. But something new was added. He got visions. Not funny ones, like the next lottery numbers or something useful like to understand the women. No that would have been too nice. He suffered through death visions of the ugly kind. And they came true if he didn't find a way to save the people. They were related to the supernatural things they as hunters dealt with and he always was the monster in these movies. He hated it but was grateful when they managed it to save a life. The price was not only the memory of himself as the bad guy in a horror movie but often a bad migraine afterwards, though he had suffered few without a vision.
19-year-old Caleb rose from his bed in Pastor Jim's two-story farm house. His father would been out with The Knight all day. He had to take care for the little rug rats while Pastor Jim was out for church service. The rug rats were Dean and Sam Winchester, The Knight's sons. They were like brothers to him though Dean was eleven and Sammy only seven years old, he shared a special connection, especially to Dean because they suffered through the same loss of their mothers in a much too young age.
John Winchester was his idol in many ways. Sure, sometimes John was and ass but the best hunter he'd ever met. And he wanted to be like him, minus being an ass of course.
Putting his feet on the old wooden floor boards the tall black-haired walked over to the open door what connected his and the boy's room in the second level and peeked inside. The curtains still closed colored the silent room in a dark blue shade. Two shapes lay still only slightly rising from their breathing up and down, in the beds.
He turned and walked over the floor to the bathroom. Pushing his eyebrows together he only registered now that a slight pressure had built in his forehead. Reaves washed his face and eyes with cold water, sometimes it helped.
Walking down the stairs in the bright yellow kitchen he saw Jim already preparing breakfast. He wondered how a man Jim's age can be up at six, praying reading his usual passage in the bible and then stand humming and preparing a meal in such a good mood in front of the stove. "Morning Jim." He mumbled grumpy.
Jim turned to him and smiled bright as usual. "Good morning my boy. Have you slept well?"
"Mh.." Was the only reply the 19-year-old managed as he walked over to the coffee brewer and poured himself a mug he had grabbed from the rack at the sink before. Slumping on the chair at the table he steadied his head in his hands and stared down to the black brew.
"Are you alright Caleb?" Jim laid a concerned hand on the young man's shoulder. Shall I delay my drive?"
Caleb tried to sit straight. He didn't want Jim to delay his drive. The pastor would take Caleb with him should John and Mac be back early and he sure as hell didn't want to meet Mr. Garcia again. Reaves had been in a promising round with his daughter in the hayloft of their barn as Jenny's father found them. The man had drummed him out of his property with a pitchfork last year.
"No Jim I'm just sleepy. I got it covered."
"Ok. I made you boys sandwiches. They are in the fridge. Samuel asked for help with his class project in the shoebox. I would appreciate if you can help him and Dean to finish the thing. It looks nice so far, but a little bit extra help from our ongoing architect wouldn't be bad."
The pastor turned to the stove and added bacon to the hot oil in the pan. The smell reached Caleb and stung in his nose. He just wanted to flee from the smell. "I go and get Deuce, he likes his bacon hot and dripping from oil." As fast as he could he made it to the stairs and climbed them up by using the handrail. Something wasn't good at all. The pounding in his head was also not to miss as he made the effort to bring his circuitry in flow by running up the stairs to flee from the smell what made his stomach rebel. He practically could hear his blood pumping through his skull.
Caleb waited until the pounding was bearable and knocked at the boys' room and opened the door to a slit. "Hey, Deuce, Sammy, get up. Pastor Jim has the breakfast ready. Then we can have fun with this shoebox of the Runt.
He didn't wait for an answer and headed to the bathroom again. Opening the small cabinet behind the mirror he found the Tylenol, took two and washed them down with a sip of water. He felt like he could throw up as he swallowed the water. Reaves cooled his temples again with the cool liquid closing his eyes and tried to relax and breath evenly. He took a seat on the closed toilet lid and tried the technique his father had showed him against tension headache. It wasn't a vision he was quite sure. They were different.
Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the cool tiles of the wall behind. Caleb breathed in and out and tried to relax. Still half asleep he started to bring his day duties in a logical order. First breakfast with the boys then the shoebox... His mediation was interrupted by the pushed open bathroom door. Dean walked in and blinked two times more before he asked. "Damien, are you hiding in the bath now? The movie wasn't that scary yesterday, was it?"
"Ha ha funny Deuce. I'm trying to find a moment of peace."
"You know you have to open the lid before taking a shit. I thought you knew that."
Caleb got up and left for his room as he walked by. "Shut up, smart ass."
*** The Brotherhood ***
Dean watched his friend leaving the small bathroom and quirked a brow. His gaze wandered to the box of Tylenol still standing on the porcelain basin. Dean put it back in the open cabinet a little bit worried. Then finished his own business, brushed his teeth and helped Sammy where it was needed.
Ten minutes later the two younger boys sat in the sun-drenched yellow kitchen and ate bacon and eggs with fresh toast. Happily chatting with Pastor Jim Sammy loaded more tomatoes on his plate while Dean grabbed the syrup bottle to drain his egg and bacon in the sticky sauce.
"Where is Caleb?" Sammy's high voice asked Pastor Jim.
But it was Dean who answered. "He is in his room. Seemed grumpy, let him sleep a little bit longer."
The old mechanical wall clock stuck eight o' clock. Pastor Jim had told them once it was the clock from Ms. Emma's mother. He liked the rhythmic tick tock of the pendulum. Once a week Jim had to screw it up again with a special key. Dean had helped him yesterday. The Pastor got up from the table. "Dean could you take care for the dishes with Caleb? I have to go. You ok here with the grumpy architect?"
"Yes, sure Jim, don't worry. I will keep him on the hop."
The Pastor passed Dean and gave his shoulder a light squeeze then ruffled Sammy's hair and headed to the stairs. "Alright, I just say goodbye to our big boy."
"Come on Sammy eat your breakfast and then we finish your funny shoebox. Maybe we can watch a movie later with Caleb."
Samuel yawned and shoved the last piece of vegetables in his small mouth and spoke nearly unrecognizable. "OK Gean."
Jim soon rushed down the stairs again slowly followed by Caleb, who took his seat in front of his untouched coffee mug again, only staring on the table.
"Good bye boys. Your fathers will be here by noon. Enough sandwiches are in the fridge, Caleb already knows. Be good."
"Bye Jim."
The door closed and a short silence filled the house. Dean watched his friend closely. If he was hurt, he would have said something to Jim so he assumed it wasn't something too bad what made Caleb taking the painkillers. Maybe he drunk yesterday from Jim's secret stock in the barn and had a hangover. Then something to eat would help him. "Hey Damien, do you want some bacon and eggs?"
Caleb shoved the mug in the middle of the table and propped his elbows on it to rest his head in his hands and hide his face from the bright invasion of light. "No, 'm not hungry."
"What's wrong? Did you drink?"
"No! Just a headache." Caleb got up and started to collect the used plates from the table with a deep line of pain on his forehead.
Dean helped him while Sammy went upstairs to get his shoebox and the rest of the things needed. They washed the dishes and put them in the dryer rack. "What is this shoebox-thing about, tell me?"
"Sammy has to rebuild his room in a shoebox for school. We already painted it blue and added two boxes for our beds. You have to help us with the Dragon castle Sammy wants to have in it there. I will do the wardrobe and the shelves, ok?"
"Hm. I'll wait on the recliner."
"Ok Grandpa Reaves, need a blanket?"
Caleb headed for the living room with a clear hand gesture towards Dean and slumped on the soft furniture. Dean shock his head and followed Sammy to find out what took so long.
*** The Brotherhood ***
Caleb closed his eyes and waited for the bumping in his temples to subside. The nausea got worse by the whole dishwashing thing. He hardly could hold his body straight. Being upright cost him as much power like one of John's beloved training units including a run and 100 Push-ups. Pulling his knees to his chest he shifted to a fetal position in the recliner and shielded his face from the light with his ice-cold hands.
A constantly shake on his shoulders woke him from a delirious nap. "Damien, can I do something for you?"
Reaves opened his eyes to slits and peeked through his fingers through his hands which still shielded him from the hated light. He shivered and it was hard to open his mouth to speak. "Cold." He managed to bring out. Though his head was hot he now started trembling.
Soon his grandma's Quilt was spread out over him and he felt Dean tuck the edges around his body. Still shaking he felt his muscles relax a little under the warmth, the familiar fabric brought.
"What's wrong with him, Dean? Is Caleb ill?"
"I don't know Sammy, maybe he just needs some sleep. He said he has a headache. Com' on we cut some cartons for the shelves, I show you how to stick them together."
He heard the voices of his charges clearly but it cost him so much strength to answer. "Feel queasy, let me sleep."
Next time Caleb woke the wooden wall clock said half past ten. He untangled his legs from the Quilt and let his legs hang down on the carpet. Then he slowly tried to sit. The bumping in his skull increased and he had to wait several breathes to bear the pain. Reaves let his gaze wander and saw the shoebox-room finished on the small table. He was alone in the living room but heard Dean and Sammy playing with Atticus in the yard. Their relaxed laughter calmed him. At least they were ok. He felt in no way capable to deal with more than to carry his own weight. Breathing in and out a sudden illness made itself present in his stomach.
His eyes shot open and he tilted up and ran to the small bathroom next to the entrance door. Barely reaching the toilet he vomited several times until he sank sweat-soaked, with tears in his eyes from throwing up and trembling on the cool tiled wall of the small room.
Caleb lost all feeling for time and space. Only opening his eyes again as the backdoor quaked and Sammy let Atticus ran inside and followed to the sink to pour them some water. Atticus barked loud and walked over to the opened bathroom door to Caleb.
The dog sneaked around the young man and tried to lick his face. Caleb turned disgusted his face and shielded it with his arm. "Oh god, Atticus, you stink. Leave me alone."
Sammy seemed to have heard Caleb and called out for Dean as he found him nearly lying unconscious on the tiled floor. "Dean! Hurry, Caleb is worse." The Runt rushed next to the hunter and tried to find out what was wrong. "Caleb, you alright?"
"No, don't worry, I'll come around, it's only a bad migraine."
Dean soon stood in the tiny room, too and stretched out a hand to help Reaves up from the cold floor. "Damien, is it a vision?"
"No Deuce, don't worry."
He let the two boys lead him back to the recliner and felt miserable, helpless and weak. It was long ago, that he had a migraine that bad. But after throwing up it was a little bit better. He sank down in the pillow Dean had stuffed in his back and let his friend tuck him in again.
***The Brotherhood ***
Sammy was out in the yard again with Jim's dog Atticus. Dean didn't leave the house again and watched carefully every change in Damien's state. He had to admit he was scared and felt helpless. It all reminded him too much about the problems Caleb had last year as he suffered through some visions, even stopped breathing once for minutes.
From time-to-time whimpers and moans came from his friend, but he seemed to be asleep. It was eleven. He counted the minutes from now on until Mac would be around. He would help Damien to get better, he was sure. The doctor always knew what to do. The boy headed for the bathroom as a faint voice pleaded. "Deuce, where you going?"
Dean had been sure Damien was asleep, but it seemed his friend was somehow conscious or had sensed his presence. He had seen what Damien's visions can forsay and though his friend had denied it was one, he was scared that it could mean something was wrong with their dads. When his family was at the farm again, save and sound, he would relax again. But until then he had to care for what was in his power. "Only have to piss, I'm right back, Reava." Damien answered nothing on the teasing comment.
As the eleven-year-old reentered the living room Reaves sat on the edge of the recliner and steadied his head with his hands, elbows on his knees and was rhythmic but uncontrollable trashing his foot to the floor. "Damien, should I call Mac? You're not looking good."
"N-o n-o. Sick."
Dean was fast and shoved the empty bucket under the hunters face before he dry heaved for what felt like minutes until he sank totally exhausted back in the recliner with closed eye lids. Dean brought a cool wet cloth from the bath and cooled Damien's forehead. He sighed relieved and shifted in another position.
Eleven thirty. Nothing had changed. Dean tried to pour Damien some water in but it only led to the next round of throwing up.
The clock banged twelve and the two boys stood on the porch for a few minutes to watch out for John and Mac. But no one came. Even ten minutes later as Sammy and Dean devoured some of the Sandwiches Pastor Jim had made for them the yard was silent.
*** The Brotherhood ***
The twelve o' clock bang woke Caleb and he opened his eyes. Where was Deuce? He didn't want to be alone. His head was foggy. He closed his eyes again and ten minutes later he saw the two boys sitting on the dinner table eating some Sandwiches.
A grunt escaped his throat and he rose from the recliner. All eyes darted on the weak hunter. "Deuce? Where is Mac?" He asked while walking over to the toilet.
"I don't know. They should be around by noon Pastor Jim said. Don't worry, it is only ten past twelve. Do you wanna eat something?"
"No, I can't." Closing the door after him he breathed out and tried to wait out the pounding in his head. Then he washed his face again with cold water as a familiar feeling told him his father was nearby. Thank God dad is back! He longed for the cool calming hands of his father. Caleb opened the door to the hallway. The men weren't in the house yet but they all heard the roaring sound of the Impala dying in the yard. He dragged his weakened body to the front door and opened it to wait for his father.
*** The Brotherhood***
Mackland Ames and John Winchester drove the long driveway to the farmhouse until the Impala came to a halt on the gravel in Jim's yard in front of the house. Mackland sighed and was glad to be here again. The investigation about the ghost appearances in an abandoned house a two-hours-drive away couldn't be confirmed. They had visited the house and the only danger that Dr. Ames had found was the ramshackle stair which nearly broke under his feet. Even with his gift they hadn't registered any supernatural source.
As John killed the engine, the front door was opened by his adopted son Caleb. One look was enough to tell Dr. Ames that something was off. He hurried out of the black car and took two stairs at once put a hand on his son's shoulders. White as a sheet his boy clung to the pillar of the few stairs that lead to the porch and managed a relieved smile. "Dad, glad you're hear."
"Caleb what's wrong?" His son sunk in his arms, leaning his forehead in his father's sport jacket. Dr. Ames didn't understand that total unusual behavior. His son never was one of the hugging kind.
John came up the stairs, worried. "Junior, are the boys alright?"
Caleb nodded still leaning on his father's shoulder and turned to go with the other men inside as his legs gave out under him. John and Mac both caught his fall and softly brought the big man down on the porch floor. Dean ran out the same moment to welcome his dad. "Dad..." Shocked he saw Mac, John catching Caleb's fall.
"Caleb, son, wake up!" Mackland patted his son's cheeks and his eyes fluttered before he could open them again. The doctor turned to the eleven-year-old. "Dean what happened?"
"He felt bad and slept on the recliner the whole day, threw up about six times. He said to have a migraine." Dean concerned knelt next to Caleb and his father. "Sammy is inside. We are fine."
Mackland nodded. "Dean, go and get my bag out of the Impala. John, help me to bring him inside. Can you walk Caleb?"
Slightly nodding Caleb tried to help moving his body. They brought him to his feet and up in his room where he sunk to his bed. John left to check on his boys.
Mackland took a seat at the bedside and laid a concerned hand on his son's cheek. "Did you have had a vision?"
"No, nothing. Think it's only a migraine. Sorry dad."
"There's nothing to be sorry for Caleb. You are not alone. We help you. Dean did a good job caring for you."
"Yes, he did. I didn't saw it coming so bad as Jim left."
"Let's check you over." Opening his bag, the Doctor pulled out the blood pressure cuff and brought it around Caleb's arm. A slight knock on the door made him turn his head. Dean peeked inside with Caleb's Quilt in his arms. "Can I help you?"
Mac shot his son an asking glance and Caleb nodded. He winked the middle Winchester over. "Sure Dean, I'm about to check his vital signs. Maybe you can tell me more important details."
Dean entered and closed the door after him carefully, laid the Quilt on the bedside and pulled the desk chair next to the bed. Mackland started to pump the cuff up and slowly let out the air while counting the beats. It was much too low, but hypotension was not unusual for migraine and Caleb hadn't a high level usually. "85 to 50. That's too low. It has to be at least 90 to 60 but it's not unusual for a migraine. Did he eat or drink something?"
"No, he didn't even drink his coffee in the morning and wanted nothing from the bacon or eggs. As I gave him water, he threw up moments later."
"I see. You did good my boy. He will get better soon. I will give him an infusion with saline solution. That should help him with the nausea and to be able to eat something neutral. Can you bring us a slice of toast and some water?"
"Sure." Dean got up from the chair and hurried downstairs.
*** The Brotherhood ***
The saline worked and Caleb soon felt better. Dean had brought him a plate with a single slice of toast and a glass with Goofy print, filled with clear water. Both stand on the nightstand and waited for him to bring it over his lips. Pastor Jim was back from his drive around to his parishioners and was sorry that he hadn't recognized that Caleb was ill.
Reaves reached for the slice of toast and broke a tiny bite off and dragged it in his mouth. Slowly chewing he swallowed and waited to feel bad again but it got better and soon he managed to eat the whole slice. The water was also no problem anymore and the Goofy glass emptied soon.
Dean peeked inside not long after he finished his celebratory meal. "Hey Deuce."
"Hey, you better?"
"Yes, much better. Sorry I haven't helped with the shoebox."
"Oh, don't worry. You can make it up to Sammy. We left the Dragon castle to your skilled hands."
The older boy laughed weak and answered sarcastic again. "I feel so honored!"
Dean smiled devilish. "Yeah, I thought you want to draw a few super tiny dragons."
"Don't worry, Deuce, I will make the Runt the best dragon castle ever built in a shoebox." He answered now honestly.
Caleb sank back in his cushions cuddled in his grandma's Quilt to a relaxing slumber. He was glad to have his family around. He would do anything to payback their love. Even built the tiniest dragon castle of the world.
The End
A/N: Please don't forget a review. I love to write and publish my stories for free and a review is the only payment I can earn. A bigger Brotherhood story is on its way already finished and waits for its Beta. So watch out for more.