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: Dean has the weight of the world on his shoulders, including more guilt than anyone was meant to bear. He can put up all the mental walls he wants, but Caleb doesn't have to be psychic to know the brokenness in his best friend's eyes.

tw: implied depression, talk of death

set: 1998

category: gen

summary: Dean and Sam show up to the farm without their father, and that's just the first of many signs that something is very wrong.

word count: 2,313

It could be a beautiful morning.

The first red flag was only two people climbing out of the Impala after it pulled up outside the farmhouse. For a moment, a stab of anxiety shot through Caleb, thinking it was Dean who was missing and remembering the boy's home incident, among others, when he'd been missing and John had failed to notify them or do anything about it.

But it was Deuce in his dad's jacket, not John himself, who was tiredly pulling two duffles out of the trunk, handing one to his lanky teenage brother.

Caleb hadn't heard from John in a few months. He'd had some contact with Dean, but the kid hadn't mentioned anything about his father getting hurt or going missing. Or about him and his brother being alone.

Mac came into the kitchen with a smile in his voice. "You got Winchesters out there?"

Caleb frowned as he watched Dean slowly trudge through the snow to the house, wondering if he was hurt. "Only two."

Before his father could respond, the dogs caught onto the newcomer, exploding in barks as they sprinted to the door that was now being pushed open. A few moments of tired greetings to the animals later, the two teens appeared in the doorway which led from mudroom to kitchen.

An ugly bruise and an accompanying cut stretched from Dean's forehead down his cheek, and Caleb had to put in a serious effort to keep the smile which had found his face at the sight of his best friend.

"Long time, no see, Strangers."

Dean's own smile only seemed slightly forced. "Yeah, give me a minute. I forgot how ugly you were. My eyes need to adjust."

Caleb's grin grew a little as he crossed the room and folded the younger man into a hug. "Said like a true girl."

And then he was hit by the second red flag.

Usually, Deuce had a normal amount of mental blocks up which kept him from really reading him unless he tried to push past them or the emotions were exceptionally strong. But with close proximity and especially physical contact would come a read that neither of them could do anything about, just a vague idea of Dean's primary mood.

Not today. Today, he got nothing but the mental equivalent of a concrete wall being dropped a centimeter from his nose.

It would have taken a lot of time and effort to get a block that strong set in place.

It stung a little, and worried him a lot.

Both sentiments were deepened when Dean made a point of not looking at him as they pulled back, turning to The Scholar immediately instead.

""Hey, Mac."

"Dean, Sam" the doctor greeted them with a fond smile. "It's good to see you."

Caleb shook away his distraction with the older brother and ran a hand through Sam's long, unruly hair. "Yeah, you too, Runt."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna be taller than you before long."

He had been on quite the growing spurt lately, but Caleb just grinned back at him. "Yeah, and you'll still be a runt."

Dean looked around the room curiously. "Where's Jim?"

"Out feeding the horses. Should be back in a minute." Mac hesitated before asking, "Where's John?"

Caleb didn't miss the scoff that passed Sam's lips.

Dean shrugged, looking away, as he turned back to collect the bag he'd dropped to hug Caleb. "Wish I could tell you."

"Wait, you don't even know where he's at?" Caleb cut back in sharply.

Dean continued to avoid both their gazes as he picked up the bag and patted the nearest dog on the head. "Looking for the demon that killed mom, hunting in the meantime. Other than that…"

"For how long?"

His best friend shrugged once more. "I don't know, Damien, when did we do that werewolf hunt together?"

"The werewolf… you mean October?"

"Yeah."

Caleb opened his mouth, but nothing but sputtering came out of it. Mac had more success finding words.

"Dean, are you telling me your dad left you guys alone for two months and didn't even tell you where he was?"

"Don't know why you're so surprised," Sam muttered, then brushed past his brother into the deeper part of the house. "I'm gonna go help Jim before I get yelled at for being honest."

Dean watched him go with a small, tired sigh, then reluctantly looked back at Mac. "He said he had a lead on the demon, but didn't want to bring Sam cuz it was a risky one. Calls once a week to make sure we're okay, but he won't say where he is."

"What happened to never hunt alone?" Caleb asked incredulously.

"Look, Damien," Dean responded with a hint of anger in his voice. "I'm sorry. I know I should be with him, but he won't let me."

"What?" It took a moment for Caleb to process that. "No, Deuce, I… I'm not mad at you."

"Yeah." Dean shouldered his own duffle and walked to the other side of the kitchen to retrieve Sam's from where he'd dropped it. "I've heard that before. I'll be back in a minute."

As he tiredly ascended the stairs to his and his brother's room, Caleb looked at his father and saw the same disbelief he was feeling written all over the older man's face.

"I'm gonna kill him."

Mac exhaled slowly. "I understand the sentiment."

"Deuce isn't his personal nanny!"

"I know."

"How could he…"

"I don't know, Son. I don't know."

They stood in silence a moment longer before Mac tiredly nodded for them to relocate to the living room. They each sank down in a respective seat before Caleb spoke up again, his voice quiet.

"Hugging him was like having a brick wall dropped on my mind."

Mac looked up without raising his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

The single syllable carried on it the heaviness of worry they were both feeling.

The silence resumed until Dean's footsteps could be heard on the stairs once more and he slowly trudged back into the room, his steps undeniably reluctant. He dropped into an empty chair without looking at either of them.

"Please just don't freak out and make everything worse."

"We're not trying to make anything worse, Dean," Mac replied evenly. "We're just trying to understand what's going on and why you didn't call any of us."

"Because we were fine!" the younger man exclaimed a little defensively. "You act like I can't take care of us! I've been taking care of us for fifteen years!"

"We know, Deuce," Caleb sighed tiredly. "That's the problem."

Dean glared back at him. "What problem? The one where Sammy spent an entire quarter… and half of the one before it… at the same school? Where he finally has a steady group of friends and a girl and everything? Where I've got a job and we've got an apartment and we're not living off of stolen credit cards in crappy motels? I don't see any of that as a problem!"

"Then what is?" the younger psychic asked sharply. "Because something's got you building the Great Wall of China in your head, and I don't think it's anything you just named."

"I…" the kid faltered, but recovered quickly. "I was just sick of you snooping in my mind, Damien. Nothing more to it than that. Glad it's working."

"Dean," Mac cut in before the two could truly begin to squabble. "All of that sounds great. I'm glad Sam's gotten some stability. But your dad shouldn't just run out on the two of you like that. You're not Sam's father."

A scoff passed the boy's lips. "Since when?"

He went on before either of them could answer.

"Honestly, it's a lot easier to parent without Dad around to fight with him."

"Son…" Mac began, but he was cut off by the sound of the back door opening and Jim and Sam stomping the snow off of their shoes.

"Please," the older Winchester hissed. "Just cool it. Sam's pissed enough at Dad without you two adding flames to the fire."

It was Caleb who took a breath to argue this time, once again cut off by Dean.

"Damien." The frustration on the younger man's face changed, just for a moment, to a desperate sort of pleading. "Please."

He was helpless against that face, letting out the breath he'd taken in a long sigh. He settled for a serious look sent his best friend's way that said they would be continuing this discussion later.

Then, Jim was entering the room with his arms out, expectant of a hug. "Dean, my boy! My goodness, it's good to see you!"

Dean got up and dutifully gave the pastor what he was asking for, murmuring, "Hey, Jim," as he did.

But Caleb didn't miss the hard swallow or blinked back tears as the older man squeezed him extra tight before letting go.

When he had, he stepped back and surveyed the room with a smile. "Sam's putting milk on the stove. Who wants hot chocolate?"

They spent the evening eating chili, drinking cocoa, and playing poker. Despite Mac's brilliant mind and Caleb's cunning nature, no one could ever compete with Dean, poker hustler extraordinaire, and by nine-o-clock, he'd bled them all dry once again.

And the third red flag that Caleb noticed was that he barely even rubbed the victory in, and the taunts which were present seemed forced and insincere. In every way, Deuce just… wasn't Deuce.

Sam stifled his third yawn in the past minute, and his older brother conjured up a bit of a smile. "Tired, Sammy?"

"Just because you play your music too loud for me to sleep in the car."

"Yeah, well, house rules," Dean sighed. "Go on, go to bed. I can beat you again tomorrow."

Caleb smirked as the teenager obediently got to his feet to head that way. "Still a runt."

"Shut up." The phrase, along with the eyeroll which accompanied it, were some of Sam's favorite things these days.

When the sound of the boy's footsteps had faded up the stairs, Jim's steady gaze turned to Dean. "So," he said carefully. "Two months?"

The younger man sighed heavily. "Can't you guys just let this go? We're fine."

Jim hesitated, but nodded a little. "I know you are. You do a fantastic job of taking care of him, you know. I just wish you would have called me. You could have stayed here. There's a good high school in town."

Dean bit his lip, his eyes fixed on the table, and didn't answer.

Caleb didn't need to get past the kid's mental Wall of China to realize what he wasn't saying.

"John told you not to."

Dean remained silent a moment longer before confirming quietly, "He doesn't want us to be a burden."

The sigh which escaped Jim's lips was genuinely pain-filled. "You're no more a burden to us than Sam is to you, Dean. We're family. Family takes care of each other."

"I know that." His tone said he didn't. "But orders are orders."

"I know, Son," Jim sighed. "I hope you know none of us are angry with you. We're just worried. You do it so well, but you're still very young to be saddled with the full responsibility of looking after your brother."

Dean just shrugged a little. "Like I told them. It's kinda easier when Dad isn't around. The way he and Sammy get along anymore…" He shrugged a little.

There was a long moment of silence before Mac asked, "What day does your dad usually call?"

"Uh… Sunday."

"So tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"We'll talk to him then. Hopefully he's headed this way."

"Yeah." Dean swallowed hard. "He promised Sam he'd be here for Christmas."

"Then I'm sure he will be." Caleb had to wonder if Jim was saying it to convince himself as much as Dean.

Quiet stretched once more before Jim straightened with a small smile.

"I think Sam had the right idea. I'd love to see you all at church in the morning."

Caleb and Dean let out identical amused breaths that said that was almost certainly not going to happen, but they nevertheless obediently got to their feet, Deuce gathering the poker cards back into their box while Jim collected the mugs from around the table to rinse in the kitchen.

Caleb for his part exchanged the mutual murmur of goodnights with the other men before following his father upstairs towards their bedrooms. Only once he was inside did he realize he'd never carried his bag up after arriving that afternoon.

With a tired sigh, he turned and headed back downstairs, to where the black duffle was tossed at the foot of the coffee table. He heaved it over his shoulder and turned back towards the stairs, but froze when he heard Dean's voice from the kitchen.

"Jim, can I ask you something?"

"You know you can, Dean," came the soft reply.

And then came the fourth flag, redder than all the others combined.

"If… uh… if something happens to me. You know, with hunting and everything. You'll take care of Sammy, right?"

The pit of worry which had opened in Caleb's stomach upon first seeing his best friend split into a bottomless cavern of utter sickness.

"You know I would, my boy," came Jim's careful, concerned reply. "I promise I would. But why do you ask?"

Caleb could see Deuce shrugging in his mind's eye, looking away and focusing on stacking mugs into the dishwasher. "Just… it's a dangerous job. And since Dad isn't around… I just… worry sometimes. That's all."

"Losing you would leave a hole that could never be filled for all of us, Dean," Jim said seriously. "But we would take care of your brother."

Blatant lie as it might be, Caleb almost wished he'd have told him no.