tw: suicide mention, self-harm mention, abuse mention, depression, talk of death

summary: Back in New York City, Caleb tries to prepare for John's arrival.

word count: 4,255

notes: Yeah four-thousand words later I definitely lied about the 7-part thing. It might be eight, it might be fifteen. No one knows at this point.

"I know. I know. I… I'm sorry."

To anyone listening to Dean's side of the phone conversation without knowing the man on the other end, it would sound like he was being berated military-style.

But Caleb knew the repeated, tearful apologies were in answer to repeated, "Dean, we care about you. We're here for you. If you need help, call. It's what I'm here for," that the kid was absolutely positive he did not deserve.

While Caleb had been the one to call Jim and tell the story, the phone had eventually been handed over to an utterly ashamed and panicked Dean, and he'd been speaking to the pastor for nearly ten minutes.

Caleb didn't know how much longer he could last without breaking down completely.

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

A pause.

"But… But I… I just don't… I don't want to do this, Jim. I can't… I'm not…"

Another pause.

"That this doesn't surprise God."

Pause.

"That He… He's getting me the help I won't ask for."

Pause.

"That when I can't, we can."

Pause.

"I'm just sick of being broken, Jim!"

It was getting harder and harder for Caleb not to run in there and hug him.

"Yes, I am!"

Pause.

"I know. I'm sorry."

It always came back to that.

"I know. I just… I know."

A longer pause. Dean probably not responding to whatever final plea the Guardian had made.

Finally, "He's not here. He's… he's at Mac's."

Pause.

"At Caleb's."

Pause.

"Yeah. Okay." A hesitation. "Thanks."

There was yet another pause, but then Caleb heard footsteps in the hall, and Dean appeared out of the hall, phone held out to him.

"He wants to talk to you again."

His gaze was glued to the floor, his face tear-stained, shame rolling off of him.

Caleb accepted the phone, squeezed the boy on the shoulder, and crossed the room as he raised the device to his ear.

"Hey."

"Hello again, Caleb." The pastor sounded tired and heartbroken.

"How did it go?"

"I don't know," Jim sighed. "He's in a very dark place right now."

"No kidding."

Jim didn't respond directly to that. "I'm going to call Sam. I was just wondering how much you'd told him."

Caleb exhaled heavily, glancing back in Dean's direction, but finding an empty place where the boy had been standing. He must have gone back to his room.

"I told him the truth. Not everything, but I… I didn't know how else to get through that brat's thick head."

"How was he being a brat?" The Guardian asked tiredly.

"Going on about how he deserves to be treated like an adult, how Dean just plays soldier to John, how he deserves privacy… like he's not the one who ran off and got himself deprived of it and screwed Dean over in the process."

"You told him it was his own fault?" Jim almost sounded amused.

"Isn't it?"

"It is," the older man confirmed with a weak chuckle. "It just sounds awfully familiar."

Caleb realized what he was getting at and couldn't help a bit of a rueful smile even as he rolled his eyes. "That was different."

"Not exactly the same," Jim conceded. "But not entirely different, either."

"Yeah, whatever." He peered down the hallway, but Dean really had disappeared. "Look, I'm not too keen on leaving this kid unsupervised for too long at the moment, so I'm gonna let you give the brat a call. Let me know how it goes."

"Take care of him, Caleb." The sadness had returned to the pastor's voice full-force. "I'll talk to you soon."

The line went dead, and the psychic snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket as he headed back down the hall.

The door to the guest room, Dean's room at the moment, was open, but that only slightly eased his nervousness. They'd both crashed in the living room the night before, and since then, the only extended period of time that Dean had been out of his sight was when he could hear him talking to Jim. He was trying to be subtle and not annoy the kid, but there was something about the way he was reading… as John's arrival time got closer, the more unstable he became.

The Knight's reappearance was the main reason for him and Mac choosing to separate the boys to their respective penthouses instead of consolidating at Mac's place. After the last time, neither of them wanted Dean anywhere near him until they knew he had at least partial control of himself.

Since Caleb didn't plan on being anywhere but between them when they did reunite, that was more for John's safety, than Dean's.

Caleb hadn't spoken to the senior hunter, but Mac had… or listened to him yell… and confirmed what they'd already known… he was not happy. And he didn't even know any of the reasons why his sons weren't where he'd left them.

Caleb found Dean sitting on the bed, head in his hands, silently crying. He swallowed hard, his chest throbbing in a special way as he reached up and lightly tapped on the doorframe.

Dean only responded by shrinking into himself like he was trying to disappear.

Caleb slowly crossed the room, helplessness eating at him like a disease. What he wouldn't do to just be able to fix it.

He'd fared pretty well when it came to chick flick moments the past several months because they'd flowed directly out of crisis situations. Once the urgency died down and he was left with an utterly broken, intensely ashamed kid who wished he didn't know anything at all, it got a little harder for him to keep his head above the water.

His instinct was to try to make a joke, offer his young friend an olive branch out of the emotional vulnerability he hated so much, but what could he say when things were this incredibly dark?

So he did the only thing he knew to… slowly sank down on the bed next to him and wrapped one arm around those shaking shoulders. He was instantly rewarded with the boy sinking into him, one hand releasing his head to cling to Caleb's arm instead, his entire weight leaning into him.

Caleb squeezed him a little tighter, shut his eyes against a rush of water works, and prayed to whoever was listening to just make it stop.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually, shallow, wet breaths steadied into the evenness of sleep.

He couldn't say he was surprised. Deuce hadn't slept much the night before. He'd know, because he hadn't slept at all. There would be a time when he had to face a fresh round of nightmares ending with a bullet in the head slumped against his shoulder now, but he would delay that time as long as he possibly could.

He searched what he could read of the boy's head for any trace of nightmares of his own, but he seemed to be at peace for the moment, so Caleb gently detached him from himself and eased him down on the bed. The back of his hand against one wet cheek checked for any sign of a fever, but found none.

The cops had done a good job of cleaning up not only the fresh, deep cut from the day before, but also any others from the past days and weeks that needed it, and Mac had checked over their work and been fully satisfied, but that didn't stop Caleb from watching for an infection.

The boy looked so painfully young when he was asleep, and Reaves couldn't help but stare at that pain-etched face for another long moment before carefully getting to his feet.

He didn't go far. The wall by the door offered him a good vantage point of his sleeping little brother and path down the hall to the front door, so he sank down on the floor and allowed his head to drop back against it.

Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

He didn't realize he'd dozed off himself until a sharp buzz from his pocket startled him awake. He jerked upright, eyes sliding from the bed to the hall, but finding everything as it had been when he'd fallen asleep.

So he pulled out his phone to inspect the culprit of his consciousness.

A text from Mac.

on our way.

Here came the storm.

with johnny?

yes

how bad is it?

better than at first

what did you tell him?

that dean is in a dark place and he needs love not discipline

k.

Dean being asleep now was an act of mercy which even Caleb had to admit seemed divine. This way, he would have plenty of time to gauge John's status without Dean's self-loathing person rushing straight into his wrath because he thought he deserved it.

He lingered where he was for a last, long moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

This was his turf. If he needed to, he could throw John out. Screw the consequences and everything that wasn't protecting the kid sleeping several yards away.

Finally, with a soft groan, the psychic pushed himself to his feet and checked the room for what had to be the fiftieth time for anything Dean could use to hurt himself. But he found nothing he'd missed the first forty-nine times, so with one last check on Dean, he stepped out into the hall and softly closed the door behind him.

They'd be a while yet, but he wanted to be ready when they got here. And he didn't feel terribly able to sit still at the moment.

So he paced, up and down the hall, psychically checking with each pass that Dean was still peacefully asleep.

This was fine. He was safe here, John couldn't do anything to him. Not in this house. Not with Caleb there. Everything was going to be fine.

But he didn't stop pacing.

After what seemed like forever, he heard the elevator leveling outside the door, and a moment later, a sharp knocking sounded on it. It wasn't the demanding pound it could've been, but Caleb would have known without his powers that the man on the other side was not pleased.

He was prepared for the way John immediately brushed past him, his shoulder braced to make sure the older man's didn't simply shove it aside.

The Knight didn't look at him as his eyes swept the room. "Where's my son?"

Caleb shut the door behind a quiet and wary Mac and Sam and crossed his arms over his chest as he faced the senior hunter. "Asleep. Don't wake him up."

The Winchester's gaze finally snapped up to his, and it was not happy. "Cut the attitude, Junior."

Caleb set his jaw and reminded himself he couldn't just punch him unprovoked. "Not gonna happen."

"You're not even supposed to be around him right now, and you really wanna go with me?" John growled, taking a step toward the younger man.

"You are supposed to be around," Caleb retorted sharply, matching the pace with one of his own. "But you weren't. I was. So yeah, I do."

"They're not toddlers, Caleb!" the older man spat. "I should be able to leave them alone for four days without all hell breaking loose!"

"Yeah, cuz you never left them alone when they were toddlers," he scoffed. "You waited until Dean was six for that. Father of the year, honestly, Johnny."

"Talk to me like that again, Junior!" John snarled, closing the remaining few feet between them and shoving Caleb hard in the chest. "See what happens!"

Caleb returned the shove, but harder. "You know how much I would freaking love to do that? I'll go with you anytime, old man!"

"Enough!" Mackland cut in, quickly inserting himself between them and pushing them apart. "Both of you! Everyone in this room cares about Dean! No one is the enemy here."

"I do not need his help taking care of my children, Mackland!" John snapped, pure fire in his eyes. "He's been crossing lines for a long time now, but this…"

But Caleb interrupted, his voice dripping with incredulous disbelief. "You don't need my help? You don't… since when do you not need my help? Since you couldn't be bothered to show up to a freakin' baseball game? Since how many hunts when I've saved them from your stupid recklessness? How about since you couldn't look up from your own grief and personal vendetta for long enough to get your four-year-old to feel safe enough to talk again? Or my personal favorite at the moment, since I had to pull you off of Dean cuz you decided to beat his brains out for something Sam did!"

It took everything inside of him not to add three instances now where he'd been too absent to even know the kid needed talked down from a cliff ledge he'd shoved him onto in the first place.

"My son does not need protected from me!" To John's credit, the roar was a soft one, like he was actually putting thought into not waking Dean up.

"Yeah?" Caleb retorted. "Tell him that!"

Mackland between them was the only thing keeping them from blows.

"Cuz he's terrified of you, Johnny! Scareder than I've seen him of any monster in years. Maybe scareder than I've seen him of anything except hellfire when he was four!"

"Shut up!" John tried to shove past Mac, but the doctor stood his ground. "I don't wanna hear another word out of you until I ask you a question!"

Caleb scoffed once more. "Yeah, well that's tough. Cuz this is my house, and your welcome's wearing real thin already."

"That's great, because I'm taking my son and leaving!" The Knight made a move towards the hall, but Caleb had leapt around his father and blocked his way before he took the second step.

"Like hell you are."

John took another step towards him, but Mac yanked him back, quickly reinserting himself between them. "I said enough!" he reiterated. "Both of you sit down! We're going to talk about this like adults."

Caleb didn't have to say anything to make it clear he wasn't budging until he was sure John wasn't going to thunder down the hall the minute he wasn't in the way. They stared each other down for a long moment, but finally, John gave into the pressure on his arm from Mackland and turned to drop down on a couch with a heavy huff.

Caleb reluctantly followed suit, but made sure to pick a seat that still put him closer to Dean than John was.

When Mac and Sam had sat down as well, John's glare swept over all of them. "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?"

He was met only with strained silence, and swore violently.

"He's my son! If something happened, I should have been the first to know!"

"Well, you weren't!" Caleb snapped. "I was! Because he's terrified of you!"

"If he was capable of keeping track of a sixteen-year-old, this wouldn't be a problem!" John raked a frustrated hand through his hair as he said it. "Did he really want a repeat of the last time?"

"No!" The word came out a shout, Caleb on his feet again in an instant. "That's exactly what he was scared of!"

"Well then he shouldn't have…"

"Have what?" the younger man cut him off furiously. "Have believed his brother when he called in a panic saying he needed him? That little rat used every single weakness you've made sure he has against him!"

Sam opened his mouth, but a sharp look from Caleb advised him against defending himself.

"He screwed up on the one thing I ask of him, Junior!" John retorted. "Twice now! You wanting him treated like some kind of a little girl isn't going to keep him from answering for that!"

Caleb opened his mouth, but anger strangled his words, and he had to take a deep breath and try again. "Where'd he screw up, huh?" he asked, his voice low. "Cuz the way I see it, the brat is sitting right here, and he's fine. Last time we didn't call anyone and he was gone for two weeks. Fine. We've all paid for that mistake. Dean got Sam to come back… he just needed a little help to do it."

"I never left!" the teenager cut in angrily. "I was down the street at the pizza place!"

"You shut up!" Caleb and John snapped together, immediately glaring at each other when they realized they had.

"If you had any brains between the two of you, you would have made yourself scarce before I ever got back," John told Caleb dangerously. "Not herded them off to your freakin' penthouse like I'm some kind of abuser."

"Oh and you're not?"

Caleb knew he'd stepped across a line, and he didn't care. John had, too, when he decided to give Dean a concussion.

But Mac was on his feet as quickly as John was, pushing them apart and back onto their respective couches.

"Enough! Caleb." He gave his son a pointed look. "That's enough." Steady gaze turned to the Knight. "John, I was the one who made the decision to bring them here. That place you had them staying in was the worst of the worst."

"Not everyone has the luxuries you do, Mackland!" his friend spat. "They were fine!"

"I'm not asking for luxury," the Scholar countered evenly. "I never have. But that was unacceptable. And Dean was in no state to be left alone anyway."

"Dean was fine!"

"No, he wasn't!" It was Sam who was on his feet this time, fire that only his father brought out in his eyes. "Dad, I screwed up, but you screwed up first! What I did pushed him over the edge because of you!"

"Sam," Caleb warned, but neither Winchester was listening to him.

"I don't want to hear another word out of you, Sam!" John bellowed, standing up yet again. "If you could just stop acting like a child, none of this would be an issue!"

"No, if you would stop treating me like a child, none of this would be an issue!" Sam retorted. "And if you hadn't made Dean afraid to breathe around you!"

"I said shut up, Boy!" John took a step towards the teenager, but Mac was quick to insert himself between them.

"John, that's enou…"

But Sam was talking again before he could even finish, speaking right around him. "You're just mad because you can't control me! You know I'm gone the minute I graduate! But you're gonna kill Dean before then, and then you won't have either of us! Is that what you want?"

"Sam," Mac and Caleb snapped together, both of them seeing him losing his temper and with it control over his mouth.

"What do you mean, kill him?" To the man's credit, there was a hint of worry sprinkled through the fury in his voice. "If someone doesn't tell me what's going on right now…"

"You wanna know what's going on?"

"Sam, don't…" Caleb tried desperately, rising yet again, but the kid was past controlling.

"He almost shot himself! Because he was scared of what you were gonna do to him! That's the kind of father you are!"

"Sam!" Caleb deflated as he gasped the word, regret and guilt tearing through him. "Sam, you…" He turned away as frustrated tears bit at his eyes, slamming his fist against the wall in helpless anger. "I told you…"

"You told me to teach me a lesson!" Sam snapped. "Well, he needs taught one a lot worse than I do."

Caleb didn't respond directly, just swearing as he allowed his head to drop against the wall in front of him. This couldn't possibly be going worse. Dean was going to…

He swore again. He was going to be sick. Dean was going to…

"He… he what? What the… what do you mean he…"

Caleb was barely processing anything, and he wasn't sure if John was angry or sad or somewhere in between.

"He almost shot himself," he snapped, pushing himself off of the wall and trying to retake control of the situation. "Because he looked at the past miserable few months and the prospect of admitting to you he'd lost Sam again, and decided he'd rather die. And if you even think about getting angry with him for that, I swear, Johnny…"

"Would you shut up for two seconds, Junior?" John dropped heavily back onto the couch as he gave the command.

Caleb felt his jaw clench, but obeyed for the time being, turning to Sam instead. "Go sit with Dean."

"What? No, I…" He cut the boy off.

"You've done quite enough, Sam. I told you… you want to be treated like an adult, you keep a secret like an adult. And you just freakin' failed."

The boy opened his mouth to argue further, but stopped at something in Caleb's eyes, growling in frustration, but obediently disappearing down the hall.

"Tell me the full story."

John's voice was low and dangerous, but he wasn't off his handle yet, so Caleb sat down as well and exhaled slowly, desperately searching for which pieces to tell and make it sound like all of them were there.

"I had a vision," he said at last. "Of Dean shooting himself because Sam had disappeared. Woke up thinking it was real, but Dad came up and called him to show me it wasn't. But then it started coming true. He was sitting there with a gun to his chin because… because he was freaking out, and he decided he couldn't repeat the last couple months. But I got him talked down. He was at the police station because of Sam's call, and they… helped me get him safe. Kept him there until we could make it."

"He was that afraid of what I was gonna do?" The words could have been regretful, but the tone was more frustrated than anything.

"Do you remember what happened last time?" Caleb snapped.

"I didn't…"

"You slammed him against the wall and punched him square in the face!" the younger man cut him off. "And you would have done more if I hadn't stepped in."

"He was fine."

"Physically, he healed," Caleb sighed heavily. "That's not the biggest issue here, John."

The senior hunter swore again, his head dropping into his hands. "I wasn't trying to hurt him! This isn't as easy as it looks!"

"Not hitting your kids isn't exactly rocket science."

"That's not… fine! I hit him, and I shouldn't have!" Head was still down, fists balling around his hair. "That doesn't mean he should fall off the deep end and try… try to kill himself like a…"

Caleb pressed his eyes closed and held up a hand to stop him there. "Don't. Don't act like he's just unstable. This isn't something that happens overnight. That kid's in so much pain, Johnny…" He angrily blinked back tears that were suddenly biting at the back of his eyes. "And all you and Sam can do is keep putting him between you and making it worse."

John was quiet for several long seconds, before he swore yet again. "I don't have time for this right now!"

Caleb let out a laugh of utter fury. "You don't… of course you don't." He swallowed hard to bite back a hundred insults he knew would do nothing but make the man angrier in the end. "Well I do. So if you can't handle it, leave him here, and I will."

"I also don't have time to babysit Sam because Dean can't handle him right now!" John snapped. "I get a real lead on this demon, and they decide to…"

"To be human beings that you brought into the world and dare to remind you that you're supposed to be a father?" Caleb spat. "How dare they, honestly?"

"Enough! You don't get it and you're never going to!" The Knight finally looked up, fresh anger in his eyes. "And you're not even supposed to be talking to them right now!"

"If I wasn't talking to them right now, Dean would be dead, you…"

"Caleb," Mac cut him off, his tone utterly exhausted. "Careful. I think Dean is awake."

The younger psychic deflated, but his glare at John said everything it needed to.

"I'm taking them to the farm," the oldest Winchester sighed after another strained pause. "If anyone can control them right now, it's Jim. And I'm not gonna extend it this time, but you're still gonna stay away from them until September."

"Are you serious?" The hiss only came out soft for Dean's sake. "I just talked him into putting down a freaking gun, and you're telling me…"

"I'm telling you in gratitude for that, I'm not making it longer!" his mentor snapped dangerously. "Keep pushing it, and I'll change my mind."

Caleb turned, punching the wall once again as he released another stream of curses, and stormed in the same direction Sam had gone several minutes before.

They were right back where they'd started, on that cursed day in Flagstaff, with that terrible, sick fear eating at him anew.

And if there was one thing he'd had enough of the past two days, it was deja-vu.