tw: suicide, depression, neglect mention
summary: A few months later, Caleb gets a phone call.
tw: suicide, depression, neglect mention
notes: Happiest of Birthdays to our beloved Dean. To celebrate, here's the epilogue. Kinda hate it, but here it is anyway.
word count: 1,494
three months later
Caleb dropped down onto the hotel bed with a frustrated sigh. Three days of research on what had looked like a serious and pressing case had revealed only a wanna-be production company faking the deaths of "town newcomers" who were really just actors to set the scene for their newest underfunded brainchild of a tv concept.
Of course he was happy no one had really died, but in the time he'd wasted here, someone else somewhere else in the country most-likely had.
With nothing better to do, he did a psychic check on his family. He hadn't been using anything to subdue his powers, so there was no need to check them all off as still alive, but sometimes he just got anxious and did it anyway.
He frowned when he got to Dean. Still alive and uninjured… or at least nothing serious enough to alert him… but something was off. Had been the last few days. Like the signal was dull or there was some kind of interference.
Like Deuce was increasing his walls again.
He'd texted him when he first noticed. Simple, to the point.
U good?
I'm fine. Y?
Cuz a birdie told me the Wall of China's making a comeback
Sounds like your birdie needs a check-up
Deuce
I'm good. Really.
Fine. Text if ur not
Will do, Reava
That was two days ago.
Caleb stared at the line of messages, drumming his fingers on the nightstand hard. He and John still weren't exactly on speaking terms, but that was on Caleb's side, not John's. He could call and ask if they could meet up.
Except John would probably know he had other motives, and so he'd probably say no.
Maybe he could get the runt to tell him where they were. Just… show up.
That could work.
Dean would kill him.
But only if something was wrong.
If it wasn't, he'd be thrilled to see him.
So either way…
He was about to text Sam's number when the phone in his hand started to buzz.
Caleb's stomach simultaneously lifted and dropped at Deuce on the call screen.
He took a deep breath and pressed to accept.
"Hey."
Radio silence.
Nervousness turned to sick panic in his chest. "Deuce?"
Nothing.
"Dean!" The word came out sharp, but he hoped his friend would be able to tell its true motivation. "Dean, if you don't…"
"Hey." The word came out weak and quiet.
Part of the weight lifted off of the older man's chest. "Hey. There you are."
He got to his feet and started shoving his things back into his duffle with his free hand. More silence on the other end.
"Talk to me, Man," Caleb said, keeping his voice steady with an effort. "You hurt?"
"No."
"You in trouble?"
"No."
"Okay." How to say it without making him shut down even more? "You… good?"
"No."
Caleb nodded a little, fighting back the tightness in his throat with an effort. "Okay. That's what I'm here for. Where are you?"
No answer.
"Come on, Kid, I need you to work with me here."
"Wyoming."
"Like Cheyenne or like the middle of nowhere?"
"Cheyenne."
Caleb was in Beaumont. Almost all of Texas, all of Colorado, a little slice of Oklahoma in between. But Cheyenne was basically on the border, so Wyoming itself was a non-factor. Probably around twenty hours counting stops for fuel and caffeine.
"I'll be there in a day." He zipped his duffle and threw the room key and a ten dollar bill on the nightstand. "Now where's Johnny?"
A strangled laugh reached him from the other end.
Caleb bit his lip, but couldn't help a small smile of his own. "You didn't think it was funny the first time you watched it."
"Dude, I was seven."
"And I was a terrible babysitter, I get it."
Dean didn't answer, so he returned to the question as he excited the hotel and tossed his duffle into the backseat of his jeep. "Seriously, though. Where's your dad?"
A hesitation. "He was supposed to meet us here. Got delayed in Billings."
"Okay…"
"I was gonna take Sam back to Missouri for spring break. But Dad told us to be here instead."
"And now he's not there."
"Yeah."
"And the runt's not happy about it."
"Yeah."
Caleb exhaled slowly as he backed out of his parking place with one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding his phone to his ear.
"Okay. Whatever he said, he didn't mean it, and he's not really mad at you."
Dean didn't say anything.
"Talk to me, Deuce."
"Talking's not exactly the easiest thing right now." The words were barely audible.
"I know, Kiddo," Caleb replied, swallowing down the emotion that rose in his throat. "And once I get there, you don't have to say a thing if you don't want to. But right now, talking's all we've got."
There was a long pause. Then, "I don't think I can do this anymore." Once again, Caleb could barely make out the horribly broken voice.
The older man was keeping his anxiety at bay with an intense effort. "I know. But you've been there before. You can do this, Deuce."
"I don't really want to."
"I know," he repeated quietly. Then with more strength, "But what're you gonna miss?"
"Damien…"
"No. You know the drill. I want at least five."
"Sammy's graduation."
It was always his first answer.
"Good. Two."
"The new Star Wars movie coming out."
"Opening night. You and me and the runt. Just a couple more months. Three?"
"Speaking of opening nights…"
Caleb's Christmas present for him had been tickets to the first Sox game of the season.
"Less than a month to go on that one. Don't waste my money, Dude."
A long minute of silence. Then, choked, "That's all I got, Damien."
Caleb once again found himself blinking back tears of his own. "Okay. That's okay. Three's good. Is three good?"
No answer.
Caleb's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he merged onto the highway. This was not good.
"Okay," he said at last. "New plan. Where's Sam?"
"In his room."
"How mad is he?"
"I'm not going in there."
There went that.
The psychic bit down hard on his cheek, desperately searching for a new solution.
"This is pathetic, Damien." Dean was quickly losing his battle against his tears.
"It's not pathetic…" he started, but the younger man cut him off.
"Yes, it is! You shouldn't have to… to do this! I'm… I can't…"
"Deuce. I will be there in twenty hours. I just need you to give me twenty hours, Man."
"And then what?" Dean snapped. "I lose it on your shoulder again and then in a few months we repeat the process? I can't live with myself like this, Dude! I'm not… I'm not getting better!"
"The hell you aren't, Man. I know this isn't easy, but I'm not gonna sit here and let you ignore all the progress you've made."
"What progress, Caleb?" He was truly sobbing now. "I'm sitting here staring at a gun like you didn't… like I… like…"
The confirmation of exactly how close to jumping the kid was made his stomach turn all over again, but he didn't address that yet.
"You are sitting here," he countered evenly, "on the phone with me, because you picked up the phone and called. You realize that? You really gonna tell me that's not progress from your barricade breaking at two o'clock in the morning?"
The boy was quiet.
"I know it hurts, Kiddo," he said quietly. "Maybe now more than it did then. But I cannot tell you how freakin' proud I am of you for picking up the phone tonight. You hear me? You did that. That's huge."
Another long moment of silence. Then, timidly. "You're not disappointed?"
"Not even close."
"You're really proud?"
"So proud, Deuce. You've got no idea."
Yet another pause.
Caleb could hear his heart pounding in his head.
"Twenty hours?"
"And counting. I'm gonna hug you so tight, Man. It's gonna be disgusting."
He could feel the boy wavering. He tried for a final push.
"Think you can put the gun away?"
A hesitation. "Yeah."
"Yeah?"
A little more surety in the boy's voice. "Yeah. Just… just gimme me a minute."
A minute or so of movement on the other end. Caleb wasn't sure who he was praying to, but whoever it was, was getting an earful.
"Okay," came the young voice at last.
"Locked up?"
"Yeah."
He'd been holding his breath for half an hour now, and it shook as he let it out. "Okay. Good job. You're okay."
"You're not gonna hang up, are you?"
Caleb laughed a little. "You kidding? It's a long drive across Texas, and you're my entertainment."
A breath that sounded like the hint of a smile on the other end. Then, "Thanks, Damien."
"Told ya, Kid. It's what I'm here for."
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