summary: John refuses to answer the phone, and Dean struggles to keep his head above water in the case and in the camp.

tw: neglect, anxiety word count: 3,298

notes: I'm so sorry for the long delay. My life is a literal trainwreck however that's why we fanfiction, right? Sure. Comments, however, will momentarily bring back my vanquished will to live, so I really would love you forever if you'd leave me some. Love ya anyway.

That evening, he found some decent service in a private corner, called Jim, fed him a string of lies about life in Santa Fe and how Sam was doing with his soccer program, then tried John's phone. Three times.

He hadn't realized he'd allowed himself to so desperately hope the Knight would pick up, but when he became clear he wasn't going to, he found himself fighting tears. He just needed someone with access to literally any resources. That was all. Bobby and Mac were researching the case, and John had promised to pass that on.

Apparently, that meant as much to him as Sam's soccer practices.

And there was no way he should be surprised by that.

So, he fought back those stupid, pathetic tears, shoved his phone back into his backpack, and went to attend the stupid campfire Crew was having that night.

The next morning, they had breakfast duty off, so after eating, they were sent to do their own private Bible studies. They were supposed to stay in the general vicinity of the dining hall and lawn, but he definitely wasn't going to go and pray in a corner when he could be doing something worthwhile, so, with a quick check that no one was watching, he headed up to cut through boy's camp and return to the scene of the crime.

Hopefully, he could follow that creek and get some more clues about not only the monster's identity, but also where it had taken its victims.

He thought he was home free, going to bolt up the last set of stairs that would put him on a path which should be empty this time of day, when Cade, who'd sent them to do their studies and presumably gone to do his own, appeared around the bend, heading down those same stairs.

Dean bit back a violent curse the second before it fell from his tongue.

"Hey, Dean," the counselor greeted him, a mildly curious note in his voice. "Forget your Bible at the cabin?"

Dean had the feeling he knew that he had zero intentions of doing anything related to Scripture, but if he wasn't going to call him out, he was going to take advantage of his patience.

"Uh, actually…"

The question was, how to get rid of him? If he said yes, he might walk back to the cabin with him, the problem being Dean didn't actually have a Bible to collect. He'd gotten through their group studies without revealing that, thanks to the booklets they were using having the verses printed inside of them. He had the feeling he wasn't going to get away like that for much longer.

"I don't have one."

Maybe he would go to get him one and he could ditch him, come up with an excuse later.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Man." The remorse was heavy in the man's voice. "I should have realized that a long time ago."

Dean just shrugged a little. He wasn't going to pretend to care. "It's not a big deal, really…"

But he was never gonna get off that easy. "Come on, I keep some on hand back at my cabin."

So much for being left alone to run wild.

He tried not to let his disappointment and frustration show as he obediently trailed the counselor in the same direction he'd been headed before, but with a very different destination.

"The camp also has them for us to give out to you guys," Cade explained as they trekked towards the cabins. "But it's a simplified children's version of the NIV, and that might be fine for the younger kids, but I don't like it for you guys. Sometimes, it oversimplifies it to the point of being not really correct anymore in comparison to the original Greek and Hebrew. So I keep RSVs on hand. I know you guys can handle it, and I just like to honor Scripture and its intended meaning as much as possible."

Dean just nodded a little, at a genuine loss of what he was supposed to say in response to so much information that he cared absolutely nothing about.

The sentiment obviously wasn't lost on Cade, who laughed a little after a single glance back at Dean. "And all of that probably means absolutely nothing to you, doesn't it?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied with a small shrug.

Once again, he simply didn't have it in him to even pretend to care about this stuff.

"Totally fair."

They walked in silence for a moment before the counselor broke it once more.

"Oh, hey, I met your little brother."

That at least peaked a bit of Dean's attention, and brought his gaze up to the older man's. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." A small smile. "He's quite the kid."

"Yeah. Yeah, he is." If there was one bit of common ground between them, it would be found in Cade liking Sammy.

"He told me you're good at baseball."

And they were right back onto a topic he did not want to talk about. The older he got, the weirder John got about school and baseball, and the more hopeless Dean felt whenever he thought about either.

He looked away again, shrugging a little. "I mean, I play. Sammy thinks I'm a lot better than I actually am."

"And how about the big universities he said were scouting you to play for them?"

Sammy and his big freaking mouth.

The teenager exhaled heavily. "I mean, yeah, they've come to some games, but–"

Cade didn't wait for him to lie again. "And offered you scholarships. Already."

Dean's fondness for Sam was lapsing just a little in that exact moment.

"Absent parents make colleges give you money."

Another soft chuckle from Cade. "I don't think they come to your baseball games because your dad's not around."

Dean was silent for several long seconds, trying to find any other way out of this conversation, before he finally gave in, saying softly, "That's just not in the cards for me, okay?"

"Sports, or college?"

"Both."

"Why not?"

He sounded like Mac, and Dean didn't appreciate it.

"I told you. Family business."

"That couldn't wait a few years?"

"No."

"And that's what you want?"

He needed to back off.

Through gritted teeth, "Yes."

A long moment of quiet that said loud and clear Cade didn't believe him for a second.

Scratch Mac–he was sounding and acting like Caleb, if Caleb was a church boy. And Dean was not here for that.

Finally, they reached the Crew counselor's cabin, and Cade ducked inside, emerging a second later with a Bible in hand.

Dean's heart sank as he slid his backpack off and dug his own out of it.

"How about you sit? I'll show you where to start."

Screw his entire life.

If Dad was going to subject him to this, the least he could do was pick up his freaking phone.

A little guilt throbbed through him as he obediently took a seat on the cabin porch and reluctantly accepted the outheld Book.

Where was this frustration at his father coming from?

He was probably doing important stuff. Maybe he really did have a lead on the demon.

"I like to start in the Gospels," Cade said as he began paging through his Bible, "but we're already studying John as a group, so Romans is pretty sweet too. Kinda like Christianity 101."

Dean opened his own Bible, finally resigning himself to his fate. biting back a scream, and trying to remember how, exactly, he'd gotten into this mess.

The day only got worse from there.

After lunch, they went back to the I and were told it was their weekly chance to call home–information their parents had been given so they could be prepared to answer. A set of five phones mounted to the wall provided the means, and the other students mostly lined up with enthusiasm and a little excitement. A few others made comments about how they didn't particularly want to talk to their parents, but even they seemed confident they would pick up.

Dean didn't like the sick feeling it all put in his stomach.

He didn't see Cade in the room, and he wasn't too keen on asking any of the other counselors if he could leave, but the last place he wanted to be was there, listening to everyone else talk to their white-picket-fence parents, and the last thing he was going to do was humiliate himself by trying to call his father.

That was frustrating enough when there weren't any witnesses.

But this worked out for him, anyway, seeing as his counselor and Paul's letter to the Romans had ruined his plans to work on his case earlier. With one last glance around to confirm that Cade wasn't there to ask permission, he turned back in the direction of the door anyway.

He doubted it would surprise the older man that he wasn't really into this.

However, he was intercepted on his trip outside by another counselor, tall and skinny and instantly pretentious.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asked in a tone Dean didn't exactly appreciate.

He swallowed down his defensiveness and innocently indicated the direction of the door. "I–uh–I don't really wanna call my dad, so I was just gonna go do a Bible study instead… if that's okay…"

He couldn't tell him no to doing a Bible study, could he?

"No, come on, this is your only chance to call home for the rest of the week." A hand he definitely didn't appreciate being on his shoulder guided him back in that direction. "I'm sure your dad will love to hear from you."

The teenager made an attempt to pull away, but the guy held on.

"Nah, man," he tried, "I appreciate the thought and all, but I'm kinda trying to leave home at home, focus on God, you know? I don't really need him pulling me back into his headspace."

He hated the way the churchy language rolled off his tongue after so much time spent with Jim, listening to him talk to his congregation, not to mention the past few days of drowning in it.

"But you're not gonna be able to stay away forever."

This guy didn't know when to stop.

"I think you should work on being able to be around him, or at least talk to him, without letting him affect you like this. And you're really not gonna have another chance, so you do need to do it now."

"Seriously, Bro, another week before I talk to him again sounds pretty good to me…"

But the counselor was firmly guiding him toward the shortest line, and it didn't seem like he planned on losing.

As they stood in line, Dean continuing to unsuccessfully attempt to convince him to let him go, the clock on the wall taunted him, ticking away minute after precious minute that he could have been anywhere but there.

Over twenty of them passed before the overbearing dude was finally pushing him forward, to the phone the person in front of him had just stepped away from.

"If you don't think he's gonna pick up, this'll be easy," he pressed. "But you've gotta try."

Dean was just trying to hold in both his frustration and the anxiety inexplicably rising in his chest, and it had become very clear the easiest way out of this was going to be just giving the jerk what he wanted.

If, by some miracle, John did pick up, he'd try to ask him whatever veiled questions he could. And in the much more likely case that he was greeted by that same, aggravating voicemail, he could at least get on to his hunt.

He felt like he was in prison or something as the counselor watched him punch the numbers into the phone.

A throbbing feeling he didn't like passed through his chest as he realized that, if he was actually there as a camper, not an undercover hunter, he would call Caleb, and Caleb would pick up.

The same ringing which had frustrated him so much the night before began a new rendition of the same old song. Then, "This is John Winchester. In case of an emergency, leave a message." He didn't wait for the beep to rub it in, setting the phone back in place just a little too hard.

"I told you," he mumbled, turning away before the guy could argue.

He had. He'd known this was coming.

So why did it still hurt?

It was absurd. These kids lived in a fantasy world of perfect families and Bible studies, and he was a freaking monster hunter.

Who cared if it was a little harder to get his dad on the phone?

He looked over at the sound of the door opening, and couldn't help but roll his eyes a little as Cade finally made an appearance. Moments too late to save him from humiliation. Helpful.

Dean looked away again, but he felt the counselor's eyes find him, and he knew he probably looked miserable.

He needed to get out of here before another hunting opportunity was wasted on another chick-flick moment.

He didn't even try to be subtle or sneaky as he beelined it for the door. He hadn't been told to stay here, and now he'd already tried to get a hold of his dad, so no one could argue with him if he told them he was gonna go talk to God or something.

However, this time he was left in peace as he exited the I and quickly walked further down the trail to cut the same path as he had before.

It was a good thing, because he was appalled to find tears biting at his eyes as he walked.

What was wrong with him?

As he came over the next hill, his stomach dropped at the sight of a gaggle of twelve-year-old boys coming his way from down the trail. He instantly recognized the counselor leading them as Sam's.

His brother could be pretty oblivious at times, but he had a special sense for situations which would give him reason to be angry with their father, and Dean didn't have it in him to defend him right at that moment.

The only thing between him and the group of boys was the A-Frame, which housed the male PCs on the upper level and was a child-free haven for the counselors on the lower one. Crew weren't supposed to spend much time there, but they were allowed to go in and out and keep personal food in the same area as the counselors kept theirs. Not that Dean had any personal food, but that was what he'd been told.

He couldn't face Sammy right now.

Mind made up, he quickly ducked off of the path and in through the back door of the A-Frame. Miraculously, it was empty.

Dean fell back onto the nearest couch without really meaning to.

He needed to pull it together.

He had no reason to be upset.

Except that he and his twelve-year-old brother were alone on a mountain with a child-abducting monster, and he was beginning to feel completely over his head, and he couldn't call Caleb or Jim or Mac or even Bobby, and John couldn't even answer his stupid, stupid phone.

The boy dropped his head into his hands and took a deep, shaky breath.

He didn't know what to do.

He didn't think this monster was one he'd hunted in the past, and he didn't even have his father's journal to consult for clues, much less Bobby's library or a local news archive or the freaking internet.

Did Dad just want him to charge in blind and hope he had something that he could use to subdue it?

He wouldn't allow himself to fully form the thought that this was unfair and messed up, but it hovered in the back of his mind guiltily.

He could do this.

He just had to… had to…

He had no idea what to do.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door he'd just come through opening again. He jerked upright, feet under his in an instant, and was slightly relieved to recognize Rylyn.

Except that it was clear he'd been crying.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled, not wanting to disturb the older man's clearly much-needed respite, and took a step towards the door, but the counselor held up a hand to stop him.

"You're fine." His voice was weak and choked, the smile he offered up trembling and utterly fake. "You look like you need a minute as bad as I do."

Dean didn't answer, and he didn't sit back down, but he also didn't leave as Rylyn did take a seat, looking at the twenty-year-old's face and feeling once more a wave of compassion for him envelope him.

He knew something wasn't right, and that was knowledge that could break you.

There was a long moment of silence before Rylyn asked softly, "It's call-home time, huh?"

Dean was surprised by the question, and faltered for a moment before fixing his eyes on the floor and nodding a little. "Yeah."

"Mine never picked up either."

That did bring his eyes up, to meet the older boy's, which were watching him with a compassion of their own. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded a little in quiet thanks for the empathetic form of encouragement. He felt the strange urge to return the favor.

"I'm really sorry about your friend," he said after a moment, finally sinking back down on the couch behind him. "I–uh–I don't know how you're still working after that."

"Helps that I'm homeless and jobless if I quit," Rylyn said with a hopeless shrug. "No happy white-picket home to run back to. But–uh–thanks. Seriously."

Dean nodded slightly. He hadn't thought of the counselor literally having nowhere to go. "How many transferred?"

"Maybe half," the older man told him quietly. "Some were too scared. Some were too upset. Most of the ones who are left didn't really know her that well."

"But some do?"

He felt bad about using this as an opportunity to milk him for information, but he was desperate.

"Yeah," Rylyn confirmed heavily. "Me and her three other best friends up here. We all took a week off, then came back for this round of campers." A pause, then a guilty admittance, "I think we all know something isn't right. And we all wanna know what really happened."

"Have you talked to her parents at all?" He knew he was pushing it, but the guy seemed upset enough not to notice.

He scoffed a little, and continued to answer Dean's questions without seeming to think about them. "No. I think the cops have talked to them, but they haven't even come out. She was pretty much in the same boat as you and me."

Dean nodded once more. A confirmation of what he'd already suspected–this girl did not have a good relationship with the parental units.

He didn't know if that had anything to do with anything, but it was about all he had to go off of at the moment.

They sat there in commiserating silence for another minute or so before, exhaling slowly, Dean stood once more. "I should probably go."

"Yeah," Rylyn agreed without moving. "I should get back to my kids."

Dean moved towards the door, and when he was almost there, the counselor finally got up as well, a soft groan escaping his lips.

"Hang in there," he called weakly after Dean.

The boy looked back for just long enough to offer him a hapless smile. "Yeah. You too."

Shazza19: Thanks again for your comments! In regards to your last one... no, it does not appear John is planning on answering his phone anytime soon. This is why we loathe him. Hope you enjoyed the update!