Sam exited the C train and followed Mac up the stairs. It was odd not having Dean with him. They'd only been hunting together for a few months, and Sam was used to his brother's presence. Without it, he felt like a part of him was missing.
Today, Mac had taken him down to the Smithsonian for the American Indian Museum. He had a tip that a medicine man, visiting the museum, might be able to help them. Sam had been impressed by the Beaux-arts building. This brought a smile to the young hunters face thinking how much Dean would have teased him about knowing the architecture of the early 1900's. Sam glanced at the doctor as they walked along Central Park West. He'd been meaning to ask Mac something.
"Why don't you just spit it out?"
Sam took a double take and frowned. "Are you reading my mind?"
"No," Mac smiled. "That is Caleb's cup of tea."
"How'd…"
"I could see it in your eyes," Mac said. "You've been wanting to ask me something since you got here."
Sam stopped walking. "How much money is in the safety deposit box?"
Mac turned and looked at Sam suspiciously. "How do you know about that?"
"Dean wrote a will."
"He what?"
Sam laughed at the look on Mac's face. "Believe me, I was just as surprised. I found it in the lining of his leather jacket."
"I see." The older man nodded.
"But, the thing is I don't want the money."
Mac gave the younger man a hard stare. "Dean knew you would feel that way. He wanted me to hold it for you just in case you needed it. He told me you couldn't stay mad forever."
"No, it's not like that." The young hunter protested. "I was never mad at Dean. Its just Dad made it clear I wasn't welcome back."
"I know what you father said." Mac admitted, taking Sam's arm and leading him across the street into the park. "He was wrong. We argued about it. He regretted it afterwards. Your father didn't know how to take it back."
"Yeah, right," Sam scoffed. "But, we aren't talking about Dad."
"Why do you need to know how much is in there?" Mac sat on a bench inside the park. He decided this conversation was best had outside the condominium.
"Curiosity- mostly," Sam smiled. "Dean was always good at poker."
"You mean a good hustler," Mac scowled making the younger man laugh. "He was lucky they didn't catch on in Vegas."
"Dean isn't stupid," Sam replied. "He wouldn't cheat there."
"Still doesn't tell me why you want to know."
"Whatever," Sam answered angrily. "I still don't want it."
"Why?"
"He should use it for himself." The young hunter stood up and paced. "Take a vacation. Go to school. Anything besides hunting."
"You truly don't understand your brother . . ." Mac commented.
"I understand Dean," Sam interjected defensively. "He never thinks about himself. Always worried about how to please Dad. God he should have come to college with me."
The doctor watched as the younger man paced. He was amazed Sam couldn't see why his brother hunted.
"Did you ever think this was what Dean wanted to do?"
"No, this is what Dad brainwashed him to want." Sam argued. "What sane person would put his life on the line everyday to hunt evil?"
"Someone who cares," Mac replied. "Someone who doesn't want people to get hurt."
"Hurt?" Sam laughed bitterly. "The only person who gets hurt is Dean."
"This time saving you."
"I don't want him to save me!" Sam yelled. "I want him to think about himself for once. I want him to live!"
Mac grabbed the young man's arm to stop the pacing. "Sam, I think you know why Dean does it."
"Because he thinks he has to protect me." Sam said. "Like I'm incapable…"
"Samuel!" Mac barked, sharply bringing the younger mans rambling to a halt. "You can say the word."
The former college student laughed and dropped on the bench next to the neurosurgeon. "Have you met my father?"
"Yes, well, your father was never good at showing his feelings."
"And Dean learned from him," Sam sighed. "I know Dean loves me, and I know he'd die for me. But, I don't want him to."
"You would do the same." Mac pointed out.
Sam scoffed. "How fucked up is that?"
"Language," the doctor warned. "You may not be a conventional family but a family none the less."
"Yeah, a pretty screwed up one," Sam admitted. "But it's all I have."
"You won't lose it," Mac gripped his arm. "I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Sam leaned back against the bench. "Do you think this shaman can help?"
"I do," Mac said confidently. He stood up and ushered the young hunter to the corner.
"I hope so," Sam sighed.
They crossed the street and walked to the condo. The older hunter greeted the doorman by name as they walked inside. It was a short walk to the elevators and they stepped directly into one. As the doors closed Mac turned to Sam.
"$9,000."
"What?"
"That's what's in the safety deposit box."
He looked at Mac shocked. He knew Dean was good but not that good. They were both still laughing when the walked into the living room. They were greeted by Caleb sitting on the couch. The dark haired hunter gave them a cold stare over the rim of his whiskey glass.
"Don't you think it's a bit early for that?" Mac asked.
Caleb glared at his father as he poured another glass and shot it back. "No, not really." He put the glass down. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Maybe," Mac answered.
"Where's Dean?" Sam asked.
"He's sleeping off some tequila."
"He's what?" Mac said surprised.
"Yeah he started with your good stuff," Caleb laughed. "That fifty dollar bottle of Corazon. When that was done he lowered his standards to Jose."
"He drank two bottles," Sam said shocked.
"He didn't drink two," Mac corrected. "They were both only half bottles."
"Yeah, he told me that." Caleb pushed his long hair back from his face.
"I have to go check on Dean." The youngest Winchester did a light jog into the other room.
They watched as Sam disappeared down the hall. When Mac heard the door to the bedroom close he rounded on his son.
"What the hell is going on?"
"God, Mac," Caleb dropped on the couch.
Aames watched as the dark haired hunter put his head in his hands. Mac sat next to him and reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. When he touched Caleb, Mac was assaulted by images of Dean standing on the balcony. The images were similar to the ones his son described before. The vision changed and Dean was clutching Caleb's shirt, pleading. He couldn't hear the words, but he knew that Caleb had agreed. Mac let go and looked at his son.
"What did you do?"
"What I had to," Reaves stood.
"Caleb?"
The hunter turned back towards his father with a haunted look in his eyes. "I promised Dean that I would be the one to kill him. Not Sam."
"Oh son," Mac said, grabbing his shoulders. "I promise it won't come to that."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
Mac smiled and squeezed Caleb's arm. "Sam told me the same thing."
"Kids pretty smart," The longhaired hunter conceded. "For a brat."
"I'm going to check on Dean."
Caleb nodded and Mac left him sitting on the couch. When he got to the room he opened the door to find Sam sitting on the bed next to his brother. The older Winchester was snoring and Sam smiled.
"Dean never snores."
Mac came over and took Dean's wrist. "With the amount of alcohol he's had I'm not surprised."
"He can hold his liquor." Sam said. "I've never seen him drunk."
"I doubt you ever will," Mac said, looking at his watch as he held Dean's wrist.
"No, he'd never lose control like that if we were hunting," Sam pondered out loud. "Is he alright?"
"He's fine," the doctor assured. "But he's not going to be much fun when he wakes up."
"I don't care," Sam sighed, placing his hand on Dean's chest. The steady beat of his brother's heart was reassuring.
Mac smiled as he walked out and left the brother's alone.