"But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive." - Genesis 50:20 KJV

Have you ever been working on a longfic so long that you got to write a oneshot to clear your pallet? Like I cannot write any more of my other stuff until I wrote something else.

This is that something else.

It was inspired by Reading "Pillars of Fire" by L. Burke on . It's incomplete but without that fic I never would have come up with this.

This is my Halloween gift to you. It has nothing to do with Halloween and is only horror in the sense that what happened in Caleb's childhood is generally horrific.

Also... this is my 100th Ao3 fic!

Very exciting.

Anyway, please enjoy and beware of general hospital trauma.

~TH~

"Are you sure that it's even up here? Did you check the Impala?" Sixteen year old Caleb Reaves asked, digging through yet another box marked 'Winchester'.

John grunted, shoving away a small crate with his foot. "It's up here. I gave it to Jim when I got my ring."

Caleb had to wonder if that had been some kind of show of trust. A promise that he would be sticking around. He opened yet another cardboard box, finding a stack of papers. They had been looking for some old notes that John had used for research in his early days of hunting, before the Brotherhood. Caleb didn't understand why they couldn't just run to the library to find out the information but John didn't like to be questioned so here they were, rummaging through the attic at the Farm. There were many other ways that Caleb would have liked to spend his summer. If not hunting then at least with girls. Going through a dusty, non-air conditioned, attic was not his idea of a good time. Hopefully Mac would get here soon and make them come down with a rant about mold and other deathly allergens.

Thankfully, this box seemed to actually hold a semblance of what they were looking for. Maybe they could finally get what they needed and get back to air conditioning. Or at least an open window.

Caleb started sifting through the papers. Most of them were boring documents, old insurance papers with the correct name and a Kansas address, a couple rental agreements in various states, unfortunately, very non-hunting related stuff.

Then his heart stopped, his breath catching as his hand brushed a thick stack of papers wrapped in a folder. But the stamp is what the teen's eyes were drawn towards. It was stamped with a symbol he remembered far too well.

Brooklyn's Children Psychiatric Center.

The place of his nightmares.

These were official files.

What possible reason could John have for having his files?

Maybe John secretly thought that Elkins was right. Maybe this entire thing had been a ruse to get close to Caleb so he could take him out. John had never treated him like he thought he was a demon but that didn't mean it wasn't part of a bigger plot.

With trembling fingers he opened it and saw a too cheery pamphlet. Caleb had never seen a smiling child there. Kind, soft eyed doctors were also out of the question. There were a few pamphlets for other nation wide psych hospitals and information on grants and affordable payment plans. Behind the information was a piece of paper that claimed the last bit of oxygen in his lungs.

It was an admittance form. An in-patient admittance form for the children's psych ward. And there, printed in bold black ink was the name Dean Winchester.

Caleb was going to be sick.

The entire paper was filled out, a doctor had signed off on it. And at the very bottom, next to 'Parent or Legal Guardian' was the name Johnathan Winchester.

"What the heck is this!?" He hadn't meant to shout it, but the sudden overwhelming panic that was coursing through him didn't ask for permission.

"What's your problem, Junior?" John sounded annoyed, taking a few steps towards the boy to see what he was holding.

Caleb spun on him. "You're sending Dean to a freaking psych ward? Brooklyn of all places? What the heck's your problem?! He's seven years old!"

John's eyes flashed momentarily as he yanked the papers out of his hand. "It's none of your dang business, kid."

"I won't let you." He seethed in response. "I won't let you do that to him."

"I'm not doing anything. They're old papers, Caleb. Look at the date." He struck the paper with the back of his hand, holding it out for Caleb to see.

The year was marked 1984. Two years ago.

"After the fire."

"Yes. I didn't know what to do. I didn't think I had a choice! You wouldn't understand."

"No, but I understand being on the receiving end of their 'tender care'! And he was what, five?! How does that make it any better?!" Caleb didn't care about the reasoning or the thought process. The thought of Dean anywhere near the white walls and prodding doctors and drug cocktails and freaking padded cuffs was going to make him lose Pastor Jim's world famous cookies all over the floor.

"I had child services breathing down my neck. They thought I wasn't 'providing adequate care' and threatened to take them both if I didn't do something! Brooklyn was the only one that offered affordable coverage through certain grants and benefits." John ran a hand through his hair, and the boy could now see that the older hunter's hand was also trembling. " You think I liked it? Being around all those headshrinkers pushing drugs on my son? He wasn't speaking, Caleb! He was nearly completely unresponsive for months!"

Only one part of the tirade stuck out to the boy. "What do you mean they were pushing drugs on him? You mean you actually admitted him!"

Caleb didn't yell at John. Teachers? Often. Mac? Sometimes. John? Never.

But right now he didn't care who heard. He didn't care if John had him running maneuvers for months or refused to train him all together. He didn't care.

All he cared about was the memory of that mute little boy clinging to his brother. The mental image of a five year old Dean being strapped down while the doctors injected experimental drugs into an IV port caused him to rapidly blink away unbidden the tears.

"We were working on the admittance process. He was out-patient." John seemed to have calmed down from his tirade. More exhausted than angry. It didn't help Caleb's mood at all.

"You never should have let them near him."

"They were trying to help. We all were."

"Clearly it didn't!"

John ran a hand over his face. "Clearly. That's why they wanted to move him to in-patient care."

"They would have locked him down. He never would have gotten out."

"Don't say that." The Knight grit out, anger once again flaring. "It would have been temporary. Just until they figured out what was wrong!"

"Well it's true!" He was an exception not the rule. He was released because a respectable doctor agreed to take him. He was found because he was a psychic. Dean didn't have any of those advantages. John probably wouldn't have stayed around long before rushing off to chase the demon. And once John disappeared, Dean would have been a ward of the state with no hope of ever escaping that living Hell.

"He needed help! Help I couldn't offer him!"

"You're his father!"

"I had just lost my wife!"

"And he had just lost his mother!"

"What is going on in here!" The voice of Jim Murphy cut through the air like a gunshot. The pastor rarely raised his voice, but when he did, everyone stopped to listen.

Caleb hadn't even realized that John was only inches from his face. Who had adopted the position was unknown. It was probably a joint effort.

"You can be heard from the kitchen and I believe horses heard you in the barn!"

Normally Caleb would have felt guilt at the words. But right now he was angry and he didn't care where that anger was directed. "You knew too, didn't you?!"

"Know what, Caleb?" Jim seemed truly exasperated. "What I know is that whatever is going on needs to stop."

"Tell the kid to stay out of my business!" John growled. "He's not Dean's father, I am."

"Yeah some father. Willing to hand over your son to a bunch of psychopaths the moment things get hard!"

"You shut your mouth, Reaves, before I shut it for you! I love my boys more than anything! I wouldn't let anything happen to them!"

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what it was like in there!"

"Caleb! Johnathan!" Jim was stepping between them, pushing them back. "Stand down!"

John took a step back, fists still clenched. The younger man didn't move.

"Caleb." Jim repeated.

The boy loosened his offensive stance, crossing his arms and letting his glare say everything he was thinking.

"Good." The Guardian said, but still did not move from his position. "Now, would someone like to tell me what is going on?"

Neither man said anything for a long moment.

"Johnny tried to throw Dean into my old stomping grounds at Brooklyn Psychiatric."

Jim dropped his arms, his eyes falling onto the file now lying open on the floor. "I see."

"He doesn't understand." John argued through clenched teeth. "I was just trying to do what I thought was best."

"No you don't understand-!"

"Stop it." A gentle hand on Caleb's chest halted him. "John, I need you to pick up Mackland from the airport."

The Knight crossed his arms, looking more like a petulant child than a renowned hunter. "I thought you were going."

"I think it would be best for you to go and me to stay with the children, don't you?"

Caleb could nearly hear John's teeth creak as he clenched his jaw. He turned without another word. Stomping could be heard, followed by a resolute slam

"How could he even think about doing that?!" Caleb spun on his heels and began pacing, anxiously running a hand through his hair. "To his own son!"

"Sometimes difficult decisions have to be made."

"Difficult decisions?! Jim, he wouldn't have survived in there!"

"Caleb, I understand your concern. But if Dean had been admitted, which thankfully he was not, it would have been a different branch entirely. The younger children are kept in a different unit than the unit you were in."

It was true. Caleb had been kept with the older children. And aside from that, Caleb had been considered a violent patient. He knew if he had stuck around for a few more years he would have been considered criminally insane. Probably convicted for multiple murders. Dean wouldn't have been let anywhere near Caleb's ward.

It really didn't make him feel any better.

Jim must have known this. He sighed, picking up the discarded file and coming to sit on an old trunk that looked like it hadn't been opened since the sixties. The pastor patted the open space next to him and Caleb grudgingly obeyed.

"Son, I understand why you are upset. If I were in your place, I would be too. But I think in this instance it was a blessing in disguise."

Caleb scoffed. "Blessing? Jim you were in there. Nothing about that place was good."

"It led me to you, didn't it?"

"A coincidence."

"Now, you know I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in Providence."

"I don't know that claiming God sent me to psych is going to help grow my faith, Jim."

"Perhaps not, but without it, not only would you not be with us today, but neither would Dean."

Caleb's heart was suddenly pounding in his chest but he wasn't sure why. "What do you mean?"

"I found Dean the same way I found you. Through a contact in the hospital. John was waiting on the papers to come through. I was able to convince him to give your father a chance before completing the admittance process."

"How did- Dean's not psychic." It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. It wasn't right. He had been found because he was a psychic. There was no reason to suspect Dean of being anything but a traumatized child.

Jim thumbed through the papers, finally handing a slightly crinkled hand drawn picture to Caleb. "Dean didn't speak, so they attempted to communicate with him in other ways. Drawing was one of the only ways they had any success."

Caleb studied the picture. Even if it wasn't much more than lines and shapes, it was grotesque. Near the top of the page was a stick figure woman with a red blotch over her stomach. Orange scribbles covered the entire page. But near the bottom was a man stick figure. And his eyes were yellow.

"What-?"

More papers were passed to him. They were all different in some way, but all had a man with yellow eyes. Sometimes the man had horns. Sometimes fangs. One picture even showed the man smiling but even the crude picture showed that it was not a pleasant smile. Some pictures held a box that was likely meant to be a cradle. Most but not all showed flames, often complimented with a bleeding woman.

The only absolute constant was the yellow eyes.

"He saw it?"

"We believe so. The doctors didn't know what to make of it. They assumed it was just his mind trying to block out a tragic memory but instead recreating an even more violent one. A friend of mine noticed yellow-eyes. Your case was still fresh on his mind and he asked if it might be connected. It was."

Caleb didn't know what to think. His mind was reeling. He hated this. He hated it a lot.

"But they never actually admitted him?"

"Mackland took over Dean's care. Discontinued any drugs that had been prescribed and suggested a stay at the Farm as the treatment plan."

"What'd they have him on?" He didn't know why it felt important but it did. He'd hated the drugs. The way they made him feel. The way they screwed with his head and made the nightmares worse. The way they made him sluggish or anxious or somehow both at the same time. He didn't even want to think about the way they'd affect a still developing five year old.

Jim pressed his lips together. "It's none of your concern. And it's over now."

Not a comforting answer. "Deuce's never mentioned any of this to me. I never sensed it either." He shook his head. Still not sure how to process all the information that had been thrown at him.

"I'm not sure how much he remembers. It was a very traumatic time on all fronts. I'm sure he'd come to you if he felt the need."

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me?"

The Guardian raised his eyebrows. "After your reaction today I think that would be understood."

Caleb offered a sheepish grin. "I may have overreacted a bit. I just- seeing that stamp- then the name on the paper-"

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder. "I understand, Caleb. We all do. But, you have to understand that John was only doing what he thought was best."

"I can't even think about him in there. I wouldn't even wish that on Joshua."

Jim tried to cover his laugh with a cough and it brought a small smile to Caleb's lips. "I'm sure he appreciates it. But, son, understand we got to him in time. I wish we had gotten to you before-"

"No, it's okay. I'd rather it be me than Dean."

The smile sent his way was an odd mix of proud and sad. "I'm glad we rescued you both. It's a place neither of you will ever have to worry about again."

Caleb nodded.

"Well," Jim slapped his knees, pushing himself up to a standing position. "I highly doubt Samuel slept through the shouting match and I think it is far too quiet for him to be awake and not in trouble. Let's check on our boys, shall we?"

All of the papers were shoved back into the folder, but Caleb noticed that Jim did not return them to the box. It didn't really matter. He had seen them now. There was no unseeing that.

And he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. But Dean was here and he was here and they were working on making eachother whole again. It was taking time but they'd make it. Together they'd make it.

~TH~

Just a little one shot about my traumatized boys. This is my first Supernatural fanfic without Dean in it. Not sure how I feel about that but I'm also actually proud of this and it's been awhile since I've been truly proud of a piece.

So please comment but please be nice lol.

I'll hopefully get a chapter of "Haven't to Deserve" before Friday but I'm really struggling and between classes/work/rehearsals to get everything in so I can't make a promise even if I'd like to.

Please be patient! I am working on it! I just needed a little something that wasn't one of my long fics.

Enjoy your night and be safe!

Would absolutely love some comments!

Thoughts on John's decision? Caleb's response? Jim?

Dean wasn't in it, but thoughts on Dean?

Really just anything lol I need some good comments as I am running low on seritonin

Much love and God bless,

Jamie