whumptober 2k22

day 7 - the way you shake and shiver - silent panic attack

fandom: supernatural (brotherhood au)

whumpee: Dean Winchester

caretaker: Caleb Reaves

other characters: Sam Winchester, John Winchester (mentioned), OC

tw: panic attack, references to drugging & assault, self harm mention, neglect

word count: 3,612

summary: reunited at last after months of separation due to sam's untimely escapade to flagstaff, caleb and dean go out to catch up. dean has been avoiding bars since having his drink spiked while earning lodging money in a poker game, and he isn't prepared for the toll reentering one takes on his psyche.

notes: like i said in the previous installment to this series, this part will reference the truth a bit, but you don't really have to read it to get it–I feel like you'll be able to get the basic ideas. essentially, they're just on the same timeline and will eventually hopefully be connected by other bits.

Dean resisted the urge to check his phone for the fifth time in the past two minutes. It wasn't gonna happen. Caleb was a busy man, and he was no doubt doing lots of very important Tricorp and future knight things. He'd probably reach out within a few days, but it was absurd to expect him to drop everything and call on the very day which marked the completion of his John-mandated exile.

Dean knew the way he'd counted down the days to this one, to September 1 and an end to secret, check-in phone calls and texts, a return to the relative normalcy of meeting up and hunting with Reaves whenever they pleased, was pathetic, but at the moment, he simply didn't care.

John was gone again, Jim wouldn't give him cases by himself and Sam was on a hunting strike, and Sam had also been in a mood for about three months now. Dean was bored, sick of the fighting and the venom and everything else. He was in dire need of a parenting break. A mom's night out, as lame but accurate as it was.

Caleb would no doubt call that girly or something, but Dean also knew he'd be more than willing to provide it.

His attention was drawn by a sharp knock on the motel room door. Sam immediately looked up from his homework, sending a seething glare in its direction.

"I thought he wasn't supposed to be back for another week."

Clearly, he was no fan of an early return by their father, and Dean couldn't really blame him. John coming back usually meant them moving on, and he couldn't help but feel for the kid, constantly jumping schools mid-unit and yet still somehow keeping his grades high enough to be full-ride material.

If he was being honest, it was hard to watch–the applications and homework and scholarships and constant talk of college. Not that he wasn't prouder of the kid than he'd ever been of anyone or anything in his life. He was.

It just reminded him of one of the darkest periods in his young and incredibly dark life, of the things John had said and the way he'd coped and Caleb's face when he found out. Even three years later, it still hurt if he stopped and thought for long enough to let it.

And, it made him feel even guiltier than he already did about a return to a habit Caleb had somehow broken him of after five years of it having a total hold on him. A one-time relapse had turned into the only thing that got him through the past several, miserable months, and he didn't like that his excitement to see his best friend again was accompanied by sick anxiety at both the pressing need to quit and the desperate hope that he could do so quickly enough to avoid Caleb finding out a second time.

If he was being honest, he wasn't particularly excited at the idea of an early return by their father either. He wanted to see Caleb, but he didn't really know how Caleb's reunification with his mentor was going to go after they'd quite literally attacked each other the last time, and the last thing he needed was more fighting.

Maybe the motel had finally caught onto their credit card scam or something.

Ever since he'd been drugged while hustling lodging money a month or so earlier, he'd carefully ensured that he didn't have to go back out again anytime soon and tried not to think about why.

With a soft sigh, Dean got to his feet and made his way over to the door, checking the peephole with apprehension in his chest.

After the first check, he thought his mind must be playing tricks on him. But a second look found the same, desperately welcome sight as before. He couldn't even start to wipe the grin from his face as he flung the door open.

Luckily, the smile on Caleb's was about as stupid as his felt.

"Aren't you a banished fugitive or something?" Dean quipped.

"Not anymore, I'm not."

That was as long as either of their resolve lasted, and Dean just about flung himself at the older man in the same moment as he opened his arms to ask for it.

Dean breathed in sharp and long, sitting in the familiarity of Caleb's embrace and the smell of his flannel for a long moment. It was over. It was finally, finally over.

"You okay?" the question was quiet and gruff and tight with worry.

"Yeah," Dean breathed, his voice barely audible. "Yeah, Man, I'm good."

"Good." Caleb pulled back at last, one hand remaining on Dean's shoulder as he looked the younger man up and down. "Cuz you look like hell."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

He stepped aside and nodded for his best friend to come in, avoiding his gaze as he did. It had been a long several months, and he knew his clothes were looser than they were supposed to be and the dark circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than they'd been before, and he didn't really want to talk about it.

There was a short, tense moment of silence after Dean closed the door behind his friend, broken by the awkward clearing of the psychic's throat.

"Hey, Runt."

Sam barely glanced up from his work. "Hey."

The two of them clearly weren't overly pleased with each other either, but their mutual anger at John was apt to help them get along a little better.

Caleb crossed the room to peer over Sam's shoulder at the page full of calculus problems the kid was currently wading through, cringing as his eyes traveled over them.

"Disgusting."

"Mhmm," Sam hummed like he was talking to a five-year-old.

The tone was clearly far from lost on Caleb, but the older man visibly took a breath before replying, clearly trying to be more polite than the teenager was.

"Gonna keep you occupied for a while?"

"Mhmm," Sam repeated.

"Long enough for me to steal your brother for a while?"

"Yep."

Sam clearly wanted nothing more than for the two of them to get out and give him the space to himself.

"You're not gonna go anywhere?" Caleb kept the question level and even, but it was loaded in and of itself, and Sam's glare responded in kind.

"No, Caleb. I won't go anywhere. I have bigger things to worry about right now."

"Just making sure," Caleb sighed, then turned around, jerking his head for Dean to follow him back towards the door. "Come on, Deuce. You clearly need some air."

Dean didn't argue, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on over the flannel he was already wearing as he trailed the older man back outside.

"Call if anything happened," he directed over his shoulder.

Sam didn't answer, but Dean didn't expect him to.

The door closed behind them once more, and Caleb paused with his back to it, exhaling slowly. "It been like that this whole time?"

"Like what?" Dean questioned, glad that his friend's back was turned and he didn't have to work to avoid his gaze.

The relief was short-lived, as Caleb turned to face him. A vague gesture at the air followed by the dual mime of chokeholds made his point well enough.

Dean couldn't help but smirk a little. "Yeah, I guess that about sums it up."

His friend didn't match the expression, his shoulders dropping in clear guilt. "I'm sorry, Deuce."

The younger man shook his head a little, brushing past his friend, further down the street. "Not your fault, Damien. And it's not so bad."

Caleb didn't answer, but did follow him on his trek down the street.

"Anything worth paying for around here?"

"Yeah, there's a place a few blocks down," Dean tossed over his shoulder. "Decent food, pretty cheap."

He sensed Caleb nodding a little, and they fell into silence as they continued that way. Dean didn't like the slight awkwardness hovering between them after months of not being allowed in each other's presence, but he was confident that would fade quickly enough.

As long as him and his stupid coping methods didn't ruin things.

Sure enough, by the time they were seated on the bar of Mandy's, they were talking about baseball and Tricorp and how on Caleb's most recent hunt, Bobby had gotten them covered in supernatural goo that had taken a very awkward trip to the dry cleaner to get out of his clothes. Mac was good, Sam was on his way to full-ride, and they didn't talk about Johnny.

"So what about you?"

Dean glanced up from his drink, which he'd felt the compulsive need to stare at for the entirety of their time sitting there, just momentarily.

"What?"

"What about you, Deuce?" Caleb pressed simply. "You know what me and our stupid freakin' uncle have been up to. What about you?"

"Babysitting," Dean said with a small shrug, eyes back on that drink like it would sprout legs and walk away if he left it unwatched for too long. "Jim won't let me hunt alone and Sammy won't hunt and Dad keeps running off, so… babysitting."

"Any girls?"

Dean snorted a little. "No."

"Why not?"

How to tell him this was the first time in a month he'd gotten his alcohol from anything but a very sealed bottle out of a very sealed case, and liquor stores weren't quite as good for finding hookups as bars were?

How to tell him that was to not to.

Instead, he shrugged. "Just haven't been feeling it."

"No?" He glanced up at the older man once more, and saw Caleb's flit just momentarily to his very covered wrists before coming back up to his face, careful and concerned.

Dean shifted uncomfortably and stared back down at his drink. "It makes me uncomfortable when you give me bedroom eyes, Man."

Caleb snorted. "If you think those are bedroom eyes, you need a date worse than I thought."

Dean just shook his head a little, taking a long drink to avoid having to respond directly.

There was a moment of silence between them before Caleb nudged his elbow to indicate what was probably an older and younger sister, both of them probably between the two of them's ages, sipping their drinks near the pool table.

"Looks to me like they want someone to teach them how to play."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Probably shouldn't assume they don't know how to play pool, Damien."

"Oh, I assume they know how to play very well," Caleb chuckled. "But it still looks like they want someone to teach them."

Dean looked back at them, and he couldn't argue with that. They were clearly positioned as they were to draw the attention of someone, and that someone could very easily be the two of them.

"Maybe you should go ask them."

Hopefully, they'd say no. If they didn't, he'd try to dig out the part of him that should definitely be thrilled about an opportunity like this one.

"Maybe I should." The older man got to his feet and set his shoulders. "Maybe I will."

"Gooood luck," Dean sighed, drawing out the word as he watched him go.

What was wrong with him? Sure, he hadn't felt quite like himself in a while, but ever since they'd gotten in here, he'd been having to put a conscious effort into breathing.

As his best friend approached the pair of girls by the pool table, Dean's attention was drawn by another, who he'd noticed sitting down a few seats down the bar a few minutes earlier.

"I won't make you teach me how to play pool to walk me home tonight," she said with a slight smile as she approached with a small swagger in her step.

Dean felt both of his eyebrows shoot up. He'd met some pretty forward women in his life, and he'd been a pretty forward man in his life, but he hadn't been prepared for this.

"What?" she asked, clearly noticing the expression on his face. "Your friend's over there trying to get you a different date. It's now or never."

Dean opened his mouth without being sure what he was going to say, but as he did, she reached the place where Caleb had been sitting and leaned forward, her hand propping her away from the bar.

About two inches away from Dean's drink.

She was talking again, but her voice was nothing but vague echoes bouncing around his head. He couldn't take his eyes off of her hand, sitting there next to his drink what he knew was a fully innocent way, but simultaneously seemed to be such a suspiciously convenient position to just…

To just…

He felt himself gasping for air, but there didn't seem to be any oxygen in it. Behind the picture of her hand and his drink on the rough bar surface, another played in a terrible sort of slow motion, the memory of another night and another drink that he took his attention off of for just a little too long, the fleeting realization that he had before he'd continued to drink it anyway, the terrible, helpless feeling of a brain that wasn't working and a body that soon followed, the casual threats the men after him had thrown around, of a fate much worse than being robbed.

A hand on his shoulder sent a spike of hot panic racing through him, and his fist had flown in that direction before he really knew what was happening.

It took his a good several seconds of continued gasping to register the surprised, worried face of his best friend, who'd caught that fist the second before it connected with his face.

Caleb's mouth moved, but once again, the words it spoke when it did were lost on Dean completely.

The bar was simply too loud, the lights too bright, the memories and fear too present in every corner of his mind, and he couldn't… he couldn't…

Caleb was clearly asking him a question, but on top of not being able to comprehend it, there were few things he felt less capable of at that moment than speaking, and he just gasping again before pressing his eyes tightly closed against the screeching ring in his ears and the glare of the overhead lights.

Make it stop, he silently pleaded, unsure if he was making the request of God or his psychic best friend.

Please. Please make it stop.

Colors exploded behind his eyes, the screech he knew was only present in his head got louder, and the world seemed to tilt around him.

The next thing he knew, he was gasping in the cool, fresh air of fall, and the sweet dimness of dusk had replaced the fluorescent lights which had previously harassed him.

Caleb's face came into focus as the feeling of the older man's hand wrapped around one of his slowly brought him the rest of the way back to earth.

"Deep breaths, that's it." There was a bit of concealed tremble in the psychic's voice, but other than that, it was calm and steady and so utterly strong.

"You're okay, Kiddo. You're okay."

Dean obediently continued to pull in shaky breaths, struggling to match the exaggerated guide his friend was giving him.

When he could finally do so without such an intense struggle, he felt the last of the strength leave his shoulders, and he finally allowed his head to sink back against the stone building behind him, his eyes closed in both exhaustion and the desire to avoid Caleb's.

The older man stayed as he was for a long moment, his gaze heavy on Dean's face, before he finally squeezed his hand a little and released him. Dean felt him sit back on his heels, but the weight of his careful consideration didn't lift.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible without lifting his head or opening his eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry," came the steady, worried reply.

Another moment of silence stretched between them, this time broken by Caleb.

"It would be nice to know what I'm working with, though," he said quietly.

"It's nothing." The words would have been more convincing had they possessed a single ounce of strength.

A hapless breath of laughter fell from Caleb's lips. "Yeah, try again."

Dean exhaled heavily, finally opening his eyes and reluctantly looking up at his friend. "It's embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than the first thing you ever said to me being that you knew your ABCs?"

Dean scowled at him. "I was five."

"That's the point, Kiddo," Caleb scoffed. "In fifteen years, I could've picked a much more embarrassing story, believe me."

"Yeah, well, this is different," Dean said heavily, averting his gaze once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friend's dart momentarily back to his cuffs. "Yeah?"

Dean tucked his arms across his chest so his hands and wrists were hidden between his elbows and his wrists. "Yeah."

It was Caleb's turn to sigh. "Look, Kid, I'm pretty sure reality can't be worse than my imagination at this point, so how about you just rip off the bandaid?" A hesitation, then, gently, "I don't have to tell you I'm here to stay, do I?"

"No," Dean whispered. "It's just… embarrassing."

"ABCs, Deuce," Caleb repeated simply.

Another moment of silence stretched between them. Then, without him really meaning for it to, it slipped out.

"I got drugged."

"You what?" Forced calm steadiness immediately gave way to borderline panic in Caleb's voice.

"A few weeks ago. While I was hustling poker. Ignored my drink like a freakin' idiot. I guess some guys wanted the money. They followed me out and grabbed me, but I fought back and ran, and then I ran into a cop, and…" A deep, shaky breath, and then the rush continued. "That girl. She just… had her hand really close to my drink and–and I…" Another heavy sigh, as he blinked back humiliating moisture from his eyes. "I don't know. I know it's dumb."

Caleb swallowed hard, clearly trying to collect his thoughts and figure out how Dean needed him to react.

"What happened to the guys who did it?" he asked finally, his tone low and dangerous.

"Arrested."

Caleb nodded slightly, like he was trying to force himself to be satisfied by that.

There was another short moment of silence. Caleb chewed hard on his bottom lip for a beat, then another, before finally letting out a breath he'd seemed to be holding and sinking back to really sit down rather than kneeling as he had been.

His gaze was careful and sad as he regarded Dean. "I'm sorry, Deuce," he said at last, his tone soft. "Been there, and I'm sorry."

That brought Dean's gaze off of the concrete and up to his. "What?"

The older man shrugged a little. "Went to a party in high school. Thought a girl liked me. Turns out she just thought I was nuts and wanted to push me to show it. Almost worked."

Dean didn't say anything, allowing his gaze to drop once more as he turned that over in his mind. The whole ordeal had made him feel so pathetically weak, but somehow, he didn't think of Caleb the same way when he pictured the same thing happening to him.

"So are you gonna stop beating yourself up about it now or what?" Caleb asked after another long moment of silence.

Dean exhaled heavily. "Depends on whether or not this crap keeps happening."

"It's happened before?"

He shook his head. "First time I've been in a bar since."

"Ah."

More quiet.

"It'll take time, Kiddo. But it'll get better."

Something about the way he said it brought humiliating moisture biting at the back of Dean's eyes. He blinked desperately, but it persevered all the more, and he broke in on himself, the first sob wracking his whole body as his head hit his upright knee.

It only stayed there for a moment before he was being gathered like every bit the child he felt, Caleb hugging him and gently pulling him to his feet at the same time. Dean didn't feel capable of doing anything except collapsing with his face in the older man's shoulder and continuing to cry.

"Alright." There was a softness about the psychic that he'd try to remember to give him hell for later. "You're alright."

He held him tight for another long moment, Dean clinging to the grounding feeling of his familiar but long-missed embrace.

"Let's go back to the hotel, yeah?" Caleb prompted after a moment, his voice still painfully gentle. "Buy some beer on the way. Pretty sure TnT's doing a Star Wars marathon. I'll even get an extra room so Teenage Moodswings doesn't get his panties in a knot."

Dean just nodded a little as the older man moved to a more functional walking position, one arm still wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and began to guide him back in that direction.

They walked in silence for a moment before he felt Caleb's gaze back on him, gentle and mild. "There anything else you wanna tell me, Deuce?"

Dean shook his head. He had the sinking feeling the smarting cuts on his wrists weren't gonna last all that long without discovery, but on top of the fact that he did not want Caleb to know, he simply didn't have the energy for that right now.

Right now, Star Wars with his big brother was more than enough.