Dean sat on the balcony overlooking Central Park feeling sorry for himself. In his lap was his old friend Jose, which didn't seem to be helping as much as it used to. For the past three weeks Sam and Mac had run down every rumor or myth about lycanthropes. So far everything had been a dead end. The clues led Sam to several museums and libraries throughout the five boroughs. His geek brother was in heaven. Not only did he get to visit the museums and spend time in the musty libraries, he actually liked the city. Dean, on the other hand, hated it. There were too many people for Dean's taste. Give him a small town were he could hustle the unsuspecting locals any day.
Dean sighed and took another swig from the bottle. He was disappointed to find it was empty. Looking into the bottle didn't seem to be filling it up so he dropped it next to his chair. The bottle broke against the bottle of Corazon he'd finished earlier. He hadn't planned on getting drunk when the others left this morning, but what else was there to do?
He'd been stuck in the condo as his wounds slowly healed. His leg was still in a cast and his ribs were tapped but at least he'd gotten rid of the sling. The staples were also gone and now the damned claw marks were starting to itch. Even the bite marks on his left forearm were healing. He was able to get around on the crutches, but that wasn't good enough. It was hard for the older Winchester to be idle. He was used to being on hunts. This was the first time in awhile he had done nothing for a long stretch of time. He wanted to be out there helping Sam. Not that it was going to do much good, but at least he wouldn't be stuck here with time to think. Dean knew exactly how this story was going to end. It didn't matter how hard his brother tried, he wasn't going to be able to rewrite the ending.
"Fuck this!" Dean cursed, pushing himself out of the chair.
He hobbled over to the railing and looked down. Mac's condo was on the tenth floor and had a spectacular view of the park across the street. Dean didn't see any of it as he leaned over the railing. Maybe there was a way he could spare Sam the pain.
Caleb yawned as he rode the elevator up to the condo. For the past two days he'd been hunting a wraith in Brooklyn. When the plea for help had come from an old friend, Caleb had jumped at a chance to get away for a few days. Dean was starting to get on everyone's nerves. The older Winchester was combative with everyone. Not that Caleb could blame him. Dean wasn't used to being stuck in one place for too long. Caleb sighed and concentrated on putting up some barriers against Dean's wildly fluctuating emotions. As he stepped off the elevator Caleb braced himself as he reached for the door. He pushed it open and was surprised at quietness of the condo.
"Mac?" He paused. "Sam?"
Caleb was about to call Dean's name when he felt like he'd been sucker punched. The younger man was standing next to the balcony railing just like in his vision. The hunter moved cautiously towards the French doors and opened them. He moved slowly, not wanting to frighten Dean into making the vision a reality. Caleb was afraid to call Dean's name. He didn't want the younger man to turn around and stare at him with cat's eyes.
"Dean."
Caleb tensed as Dean turned towards him. The younger hunters eyes were red rimmed, glassy and thankfully human. He noticed Dean's crutches were nowhere in sight but did notice the two empty bottles of tequila. Caleb walked slowly towards Dean. Two bottles of tequila meant Dean would have alcohol poisoning.
"Tell me Deuce that you did not drink two bottles of tequila."
Dean blink owlishly at the older man. "Caleb?" The younger hunter glanced at the bottles. "Hell, no, Mac's bottles weren't even half way filled."
Caleb felt relieved that he didn't have to take a trip to the emergency room. "Having a personal pity party, Deuce, or can anyone join in?"
"Fuck you, Reaves. Go back to hell where you came from!"
"Man," Caleb slid a hand through his hair. "You always did get pissy when you were drunk…or when you were hurting."
Dean glares at him. "Trying to play shrink with me?"
"Somebody needs to. Although, I'd prefer just kicking your ass, do this thing the manly way."
"You can't kick my ass, even with this bad leg."
"Then how about we just try talking for a change."
They shared a look and even Dean cracked up. "Not enough Tequila in this damn place for that."
"Mac's going to kick your ass when he gets back, you know that right?"
"What the fuck difference does it make?" Dean said, defensively. "They aren't going to find anything useful. We all know how this is going to end. The good little soldier is going to go down in a blaze of glory. Maybe take a few innocent victims with him before his kid brother has to shoot him."
"Dean," Reaves took his arm. "You don't know that."
"A lot you know," Dean snorted, pushing Caleb away. "You've been some help."
"Yeah, well, you've been a little shit for the past week," Caleb retorted. He really did suck at this emotional stuff.
"Whatever."
Dean tried to push past the older man and walk back inside. His broken leg had enough abuse for one day and refused to hold him. If Caleb hadn't been close Dean would have taken a header onto the concrete balcony. As Reaves caught the smaller hunter, he began to struggle. Dean was too drunk to land a good punch and Caleb easily held him off. The older Winchester brother stopped struggling and looked at the family friend. He could see tears pooling in Dean's eyes but he knew the younger man would never shed them. They were a sign of weakness -avoided at all costs. Caleb knew Dean learned to hide his emotions at an early age. It was always ingrained into the boy to be a good soldier and to suck it up. Well, Reaves thought, John could be real proud of himself. Suddenly, Dean's eyes took on a desperate quality as he twisted his fists into Caleb's shirt.
"You got to promise me something, man."
Caleb sighed, knowing he couldn't refuse. "Anything."
"Don't make Sam end this. You know how he is...the kid feels guilty over the state of the ozone because of the spray deodorant he used in high school."
"Deuce..." Caleb started.
Dean grabbed his wrist, squeezing it. "Promise me, Caleb. Promise me you'll finish it. You...not Sammy."
"It won't come to that. We'll figure something out to help you."
"What will help me is knowing I don't have to worry about Sam thinking it's his responsibility to kill me. Like that damned kid from Old Yeller!"
"You think Sammy is just going to stand by why I put a silver bullet in your heart?" Reaves felt sick even saying the words. "Do you know what you're asking me?"
Dean and he shared a long look. The younger hunter knew how his friend felt about him and Sam. The older hunter may never admit it but he'd do anything for them. Even kill for them. "I'd do it for you."
"Fuck!" Caleb pulled away. "Fuck this whole brotherhood shit!"
"So you'll do it?"
"Isn't there some kind of clause about killing each other?"
"There's a more important one about saving each other."
Caleb shook his head. "Leave it to you, to fuck me up even after your dead."
"What can I say? It's a talent."
"Do I at least get the Impala?"
Dean laughs. "No. But I'm leaving you, Sammy."
"Like that's a windfall."
"More than you know."
Reaves knew Sam was Dean's most treasured possession. He stared at the blond man then grabbed his forearm. "You have my word."
"I knew you'd do it," Dean smiled, squeezing Caleb's arm.
"How could you be so sure?"
"Hell, you didn't want me coming back and haunting your ass now did you?"
Caleb shook his head. Only Dean would think to come back and haunt for fun. The younger man sighed and began to fall to the side. Caleb could feel Dean relax and knew if he didn't get him up there'd be hell to pay.
"Whoa, Deuce, can't sleep out here."
" 'fraid Mac'll kick your ass," Dean snickered drunkenly.
Caleb shook his head as Dean's body finally realized the amount of alcohol the younger hunter had consumed. Hauling the younger man to his feet was no easy task. Caleb was finally forced to sling Dean over his shoulder as he passed out. He hoped he wasn't doing any damage to Dean's ribs as he carried him down the hall. Once he was in the bed Caleb prop pillows under the cast and threw the covers over the younger man.
"I swear I'll find something to help you Deuce, even if I have to go to hell to do it."