fandom: supernatural (brotherhood au)

series summary: Dean didn't even really know what he was doing when he walked into the kitchen at the right time and in doing so showed sixteen-year-old Caleb that he wasn't as alone as he thought. Years later, Caleb knows much more than Dean would like him to the minute he sees an all-too-familiar look in his eyes.

installment summary: Post Flagstaff, Dean spirals. When Sam disappears again, he's sent over the edge.

notes: Don't blame me, whump made me crazy. If it doesn't, you ain't doin it right. *coughs* What I mean to say is, what is about to happen is not my fault. It's the prompt's. Also Trekkiehood's because I was like, "Haha I could be really depressing and do this," and she was like "YES DO IT." Just blame everyone but me please.

set: 1999

tw: mentioned suicide/depression, mentioned abuse of a minor

word count: 2,809

notes: I couldn't figure out what to write for Day 2 of Febuwhump so it turned into a five-part (Probably. I only have three written atm.) addition to the series. Oops. I'm sorry in advance.

Also, this picks up right at the end of the brotherhood canon story by Ridley C. James, What Brings Us Home, which tells the story of Sam running away to Flag Staff. It's pretty much straight-up anti-John and mildly anti-Sam, so consider this your warning and please don't come at me.

Everything inside was lost in silhouette. You're lost in silhouette. 1

The issue of guns against chins and drives across the country to answer calls from the edges of cliffs had hung heavily between them for the past two weeks, but had been left unaddressed nonetheless.

Even before that Christmas, Caleb had known for a long time that if anything ever happened to Sam, Dean would do everything in his power to make sure he quickly followed. When he'd gotten the panicked call from the older brother two weeks ago, before they'd been able to confidently rule out foul play despite his psychic read that Sam was alright, it had been another layer of panic in the forefront of his mind. On top of worrying about the runt, who he cared about with his whole heart, he'd had to face the fact that if he lost one brother, he didn't know if there would be anything he could do to avoid losing the other as well.

But as they became confident that Sam had given them the purposeful slip and ever desperate to catch up to him, they'd never talked about it. There had been little time for chick-flick moments the past two weeks, and less patience for them in Dean.

Whenever Caleb had danced anywhere near the subject, he'd been met with unmoving refusal to engage.

"Damien, I am not the one you need to be worrying about right now. I just want to find my brother."

Then, John came in.

And now, Caleb was staring at Sam the almost-sixteen-year-old punk who'd gotten them all into this mess and didn't seem at all keen to start making life a little easier on his older brother, and John, the ever-more-rogue Knight who was lucky Bobby had been there to pull Caleb off of him, who he'd still gladly go ten rounds with at a mere glance towards Dean's busted-up face, and Dean. Dean, the one who was always caught in the middle, who always bore the worst of every side of every bitter Winchester fight. Dean, the utterly broken kid Caleb had spent the past five months coaxing ever further away from the ever-present edge he could never fully look away from. Dean, who he'd just been told to stay away from for the next four months.

"I don't want to see your face before September. Don't call my boys, don't come around them, and don't think about throwing out The Guardian card, because I've already talked to Jim. He expects to see you next week for an official visit."

For a moment, the hot fury he was feeling towards his mentor gave way to unbridled, sick panic.

"But…"

"Keep talking and it will be December."

Now, fury and panic mixed to make him want to echo Sam's profession of hatred from a moment before.

He looked at Dean, and for once the kid wasn't batting his abilities away with a steel mace.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

The statement was only bitten back for the kid's sake. The last thing he wanted to do was make it worse for him.

So, he said through tightly clenched teeth, "Yes, Sir."

The satisfaction on John's face made him homicidal. "We're leaving, Dean."

And he stalked away, after Sam.

Dean stared after him, finally releasing a long-held breath. "Don't look so disappointed," he sighed. "It could have gone worse, Damien."

Caleb bit his lip. Entertaining pessimism wasn't going to do the darkness in the kid's brain any favors. "If we're lucky maybe you'll get off early for good behavior."

"Don't count on it."

Dean was trying to put on a good face, but the hopelessness in his tone shone through.

"Crap!" Caleb ran his hands through his hair, desperately searching for some solution that wouldn't end with his best friend alone in a war zone. "I'm with Sam. Sometimes I hate that bastard."

"No, you don't." Dean's tone was tired and familiar. He'd had this conversation a hundred times with Sammy.

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. "Today I do."

"It's just one day," Dean sighed. "A really crappy day."

The kid was falling into his big brother mode. Scratch that, he was falling into his parent mode. When he couldn't fix things, at least try to make them better. Try to make everyone feel better. Try to keep everyone happy and pretend that everything was fine.

"September will be here before you know it. Go build a bridge, or take a vacation, maybe to Fiji."

Caleb exhaled heavily. Like that charade was going to work on him. His worry overflowed, and he reached out to tightly clasp the younger man's forearm. "Deuce, keep your head down. I'm not going anywhere. If you need me, call me. I don't care what John says, I'll come."

Dean returned his friend's grip. "I know you will."

He couldn't mask the fear and brokenness from his eyes, and he also couldn't keep it from hurling itself at Caleb, a cry for help whether he liked it or not.

The older man's face tightened against a sudden rush of frustrated tears. "I'm serious, Dean. Please. Don't… don't do anything stupid."

"I got it, Damien." The boy swallowed hard, clearly barely keeping it together. "I'll try not to be a freak."

Caleb opened his mouth with his usual rebuke at the term, but John's shout beat him to the mark.

"Move it, Dean!"

The psychic's fist clenched at his side, his grip on the younger man tightening as a fresh wave of panic washed over him. "On second thought, you don't have to go, Kiddo. Between the two of us, we can take him."

Dean looked in the direction of the Impala, and for a moment, Caleb could see a flicker of longing in his eyes to take him up on the offer. Then, it disappeared for his prior mask, and he pulled away with a forced half-smile.

"I'll keep in touch, Damien. I promise." A hesitation. "I'll be okay."

Caleb let him walk away because he knew there was no pulling that kid away from his family. But how could he be okay?

How could anyone be okay?

time-skip sponsored by warmies

Caleb had his orders to report to the Guardian, no hunts lined up, and was in need of some serious convincing as to why he shouldn't take Dean and high-tail it to Timbuktu, so he headed straight for Kentucky. He stopped once on the way, but the two-day drive did nothing to calm his anxiety or anger.

In fact, it just gave him sixteen hours to replay everything in his mind over and over again and get more worked up each time.

By the time he was slamming the door of his jeep behind him and stalking up the front steps on the farmhouse, duffle in hand, he was a feather of impulse control away from unloading the full force of his anger on a Jim who definitely didn't deserve it.

Maybe he should have gone back to New York first.

Mac was nothing if not used to listening to him throw fits, particularly when they were about stupid things that John Winchester did.

He realized as he mounted the final step that he probably should have called ahead, but the regret was interrupted by the door opening to reveal Jim with a cup of coffee in his hand, offering up a smile that said he knew exactly what was walking into his house.

"Good afternoon, Caleb. You made good time."

The younger man swallowed hard. "Hey, Jim. I… uh… I forgot to call. Sorry."

Jim waved the apology off in the same motion as he used to wave Caleb inside. "You're on my request to be here. And you know you're welcome anytime."

Caleb didn't answer, just gently pushing the dogs aside as he entered the house and headed straight upstairs to deposit his duffle and take a few deep breaths.

It wasn't Jim's fault. It wasn't Jim's fault.

But being so close to the room where he'd pulled a gun from Dean's shaking hands just gave the panic a slight upper hand to the anger while only deepening both.

Finally, he gave up.

If he threw a fit, Jim might not be Mac, but he was no rookie to dealing with them either.

The pastor was waiting in the living room with two mugs in his hand now, one of which he held out to Caleb before taking a seat and nodding for the younger hunter to do the same.

No matter what Johnny had said about this visit being official, he was being treated more like a congregant of Jim's church come for comfort and advice than a member of the brotherhood, a senior hunter in charge when some questionable decisions about things pertaining to communication within said brotherhood were made.

If he was in trouble, he was prepared to take his reprimand like a man… and then unload his boatload of complaints against the Knight into the Guardian's waiting lap. But he couldn't tell if he was, in fact, in trouble.

He took a long sip of his coffee before sending an apprehensive glance over its brim.

"You first."

Jim pursed his lips thoughtfully, took a sip of his own, then shook his head slightly. "I'd like to hear your version of things first."

"I don't know if you really do." Caleb bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, saying the words through half-grit teeth.

"I do."

The younger man held out for a moment longer, then finally let out a long breath, telling himself to be chill. He wasn't being held at attention and stripped of his ring, but that didn't mean he wasn't in some very hot water.

"Dean called me panicking because Sam was gone." A deep breath. "Johnny was in South Dakota on the trail of that werewolf. Sam left when he was supposed to be going to school. Gave himself a head start cuz Deuce didn't know he was gone until he was supposed to be picking him up. Gave himself more of one by laying a false trail for us to follow. I know he was alive, and I tried letting my blocks down to track him, but it didn't work. We looked for two weeks, then Johnny finally called to check in and Dean broke."

Jim nodded carefully, his gaze serious and attentive.

Caleb hesitated, working his jaw a moment as he got to the part of the story that really worked him up.

"When John showed up," he continued at last, jaw still tight. "He was completely off his rocker. Slammed Deuce against a wall a couple times. Then punched him. Right, square in the face, with him pinned so he couldn't even defend himself."

The alarm in Jim's eyes said John had conveniently avoided that part of the story.

Caleb's knuckles were white around his coffee cup. "So I tackled him. Traded some punches until Bobby got between us. Then I went to do damage control cuz Dean was so worked up and scared and…" He swallowed hard. "That he was puking his guts out."

The pastor made a soft, sad and thoughtful noise at that revelation, his eyes still intently fixed on Caleb's.

"Then they called my dad, and he tracked the runt down just like that," he finished tightly. "Johnny told Dean he wasn't to let Sam out of his sight for the foreseeable future, told me I wasn't allowed to see or talk to them until September, and ditched me with Bobby so he could scream at his kids in solace."

He shrugged with a heavy breath.

"And now I'm here."

Jim processed all of that with a long sip of his coffee, his face serious. Caleb took a drink as well and prayed for some grace.

"I think I know the answer," the Guardian said at long last, "but humor me and explain why you didn't call me as soon as you heard from Dean that Sam had gone missing?"

"Because I knew you'd call Dad, who I knew would call John."

"And you didn't want John to know because?"

Caleb glared at him over the rim of his mug. "Because when John knows, Dean ends up concussed."

"You don't think that maybe if I was there when he got there, things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand?"

The younger man pursed his lips hard, still using all of his effort to keep himself in line. "All due respect," he said at last, "but when it was Dean who ran, you were standing right there, and he still ended up bleeding on the ground. You yelling at Johnny afterwards doesn't mean it didn't happen."

There was a long pause, and Caleb braced himself.

"That's fair."

The concession was quiet and guilty, and brought the psychic's eyes up instantly.

"I haven't always protected those boys like I should have," Jim continued softly. "Especially Dean. John should have never been allowed to lay a hand on him in my presence." A hesitation before he went on, "I don't like that you didn't call me. You broke protocol and trust. But… I see why you did it. We broke your trust first."

There was a long moment of silence between them.

"I'd like to find a hunt for us to take together," Jim offered finally. "Try to rebuild that. Or at least start the process."

Caleb nodded slightly. It was semi-disciplinary. He was being babysat by the Guardian for at least a little while. But all things considered, he was getting off very easy.

"Now," the pastor continued with a tone that said he was ready to move on from the incident, "talk to me about Dean."

Something about the way he said that had tears Caleb hadn't known were lurking being blinked desperately back from his eyes.

He swallowed hard, doing everything he could to beat them back, but his words still came out choked.

"Jim, I don't know if he can handle this."

"How was he doing before?" the Guardian asked, his eyes serious and sad. "I've called every few weeks, but he's acted like nothing happened and nothing is wrong."

"Sounds like Deuce alright," Caleb sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face. "He was doing better, he really was. Back in March, he called me with a gun in front of him. Johnny'd ditched them and Sam was upset and ran his mouth. Pushed him over the edge. But he called me."

"That's incredible progress, Caleb," Jim affirmed.

"Yeah," the younger man agreed. "He… he did great. And I met up with them in Cheyenne, and me and the Runt had a talk, and me and Dean had several talks and a cry-fest or two, and then Johnny finally showed up, and Dean told me to go before I dropped the gloves with him."

Jim obviously couldn't help his tired, knowing smile.

"And then I stole him for a few days so we could go to opening night, and he wasn't real keen on talking about it, but he was… stable, at least. But he flat-out refused to talk about him for two weeks, and all he'd say when Johnny kicked me to the curb is he'd be okay. But I… I don't know if he will be."

"Tell me what you're most worried about."

Caleb spread his hands a little. "Johnny's livid, Jim. And I think he's more pissed at Dean than he is at the Runt. Maybe he won't beat him up again… I mean, God, he better not… but he doesn't need his hands to tear that kid to pieces. And when Sam's mad at his dad, he takes it out on Dean. Every freakin' time. He gets caught in the crossfire every freakin' time. And now I'm not even supposed to be talking to him, and neither of them know… know that he…"

He couldn't find it in him to finish, but he didn't have to.

Jim was nodding slowly. "I'll ask John to report to the farm," he offered after a long moment. "I promise I'll reprimand him for what happened with Dean. And at least I'll have a day or two to make sure Dean is doing alright. I'll keep checking in. I know you will too, whether you're supposed to or not."

Caleb confirmed that with a small inclination of his head.

"With your help, it seems he's come a very long way," the pastor continued. "And I know you and Mac sat down with him and walked him through some healthier ways to cope. He's a strong boy, Caleb. I believe he's going to be alright."

Hopefully, he had enough faith for both of them. Because no matter how much he wanted to trust the kid, Caleb couldn't say the same.