Caleb stood on the balcony drinking a cup of coffee. The sounds of the city were in full swing as cars and buses rushed by on the street below. The longhaired hunter sighed as he stepped back into the living room, heading for the kitchen. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard he poured the dark brew. He added some cream and two sugars, going into the bedroom with the mug.
After the shaman had finished with Dean he warned that the young man would be sick for a few days. He just never warned them how sick. Three days ago, the blond hunter's fever spiked at one hundred and four. Mac considered admitting him to the hospital, but waited and Dean's fever broke after a day and a half. He was sleeping, which was more than could say for Sam, who hadn't slept in two days. He caught a couple of catnaps while sitting with his brother. The apartment was quiet, but as Caleb made his way towards the bedroom he could hear Metallica wafting through the bedroom area of the apartment. The longhaired hunter stopped in the doorway to see Sam cross-legged on the bed with his back towards him. Caleb opened his mind and reached towards Sam, stopping when the younger man turned towards him.
"Thought you weren't suppose to read people without their permission?"
"Who says?"
"Never mind," Sam sighed, turning back towards Dean.
Caleb walked over to the bed and nudged Sam. "Here."
"Thanks," the younger hunter accepted the mug.
"Want a break?"
Sam sipped the coffee, shaking his head. Reaves knew there was something bothering the younger man.
"Look, Runt, if you won't let me read you, then you gotta tell me what's wrong."
"Nothings wrong," Sam denied albeit not convincingly.
"Like hell it isn't." Caleb sat next to the dark haired hunter. "I can feel it."
The youngest Winchester stayed silent for several minutes, drinking his coffee. Reaves was about to leave when Sam finally spoke.
"My vision was wrong." The younger hunter kept his gaze focused on the coffee cup. "You didn't shoot Dean."
Caleb nodded. "Not all of them will come true."
"How do you know the difference?"
"This isn't going to help," Reaves sighed. "You won't."
"So the actions I take can change the outcome?"
"Sometimes," the older man was pensive. "If your vision reveals some one killing another person - you check it out. Sometimes you can prevent it, sometimes you can't."
Sam became contemplative, letting what Reaves told him sink in. He took a sip of his coffee, watching his brother over the rim. Dean's skin was pale causing the dark crescent of his lashes to stand out. The white bandages around his ribs and the cast on his right leg were all that remained of his ordeal.
"I wish he'd wake up."
"Sleep's the best thing for him."
"I know it's just…"
Caleb knew Sam was worried. For the past two weeks Dean made living in the condo hell. He was in pain and uncertain of his fate. Reaves glanced at the older Winchester, and noticed his eyes were rapidly moving under his closed lids. Sam gave him a hopeful look as the longhaired hunter stood up and reached out. Placing his hand on Dean's head.
"Well?" The younger Winchester asked, after a few minutes.
"I don't remember you ever having a dog."
"We didn't."
"He's dreaming about a white dog." Caleb relayed. "Take a look."
Sam placed his hand over the psychic's. An image of a large white dog came into his mind. They sensed no threat, but could feel Dean's surprise. Surprise changed to fear as a mountain lion lunged towards Dean. All three felt the sensation of falling into darkness.
Mac sat at his desk, spreading Dean's leather jacket over the blotter. The leather was soft and well-worn. The lining had seen better days. It was repaired in several places with meticulous stitches. John always said his son's stitching left minimal scarring. The neurosurgeon ran his hands over the lining until he felt the paper. Sam had returned the will to its secret compartment. The will had settled towards the bottom, the lining slightly frayed at its hem. He carefully removed the paper, not wanting to make the hole larger, placing the jacket to the side. The paper was wrinkled and folded several times. Aames unfolded and smoothed out the piece of notebook paper. The older man smiled as he read the will. Even in a serious document Dean's unique humor shined through. Leaning across the desk he grabbed a pen and signed the paper as a witness. He made a copy, returning it to the lining and placed the original in his file cabinet in the too large 'Winchester' folder.
The clock on the mantel chimed on the one o'clock hour. Mac's stomach rumbled to emphasize the time. He left the study, hearing Dean's hard rock emanating from the bedroom. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he walked down the hall. A feeling of foreboding came to him as he neared the resting man's room. He reached out to open the door, and felt himself falling.
"NO!"
Dean's scream broke the connection, and Mac stumbled into the room. Caleb snapped out of the link and stared at the blond hunter. Green eyes were slit like a cat. The older hunter cursed and jumped back as Dean covered his eyes with his hands.
"Ahhh," the oldest Winchester brother curled on his side, away from the offending brightness.
"Dean!" Sam grabbed his brother's wrists.
"Hurts," Dean fought to regain control of his wrists to cover his eyes. "Too bright."
"Caleb, draw the curtains," Mac instructed, sitting on the side of the bed.
Reaves reluctantly did as he was told. He grabbed the heavy curtains, pulling them across the windows.
"Dean," Sam repeated.
"Not so loud," Dean whispered piteously.
The youngest Winchester glanced from Caleb to Mac, but he could see they were confused too.
"Dean," the doctor coaxed. "Let me see your eyes."
Reaves braced himself as his friend cautiously opened his eyes. He released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Dean's eyes were normal. Mac gently held the hunter's chin with his left hand as he covered the younger man's eyes with his right. He flipped his right hand up and down several times.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked.
"Everything's all right," The doctor released Dean. Sam helped the older man settle his brother back against the pillows. "His pupils are a bit sluggish. He's going to be sensitive to bright light for awhile."
"How do you feel, Deuce?"
"Like I have a double Jagermeister hang over," Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Dean, I want a straight answer," Mac warned.
"Everything hurts."
"How about your ribs and leg?"
Dean blinked open his eyes. Now that he was awake he could feel every pain. His leg was the worst. "Now that you mention it, my leg's killing me."
The doctor nodded, leaning over to grab the bottles on the nightstand. He popped the lid on one and dumped out two pills. Caleb handed him a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser. Dean gratefully took the pills and drank the water. When Mac was satisfied he was all right he relinquished his spot to Sam.
Dean smiled. "Miss me?"
"Hell no, Jerk."
"Right," Dean smirked. "Bitch."
Mac just shook his head as he left the room. Caleb smiled glad everything was starting to get back to normal. He stopped at the door and looked back. Reaves could see Sam holding Dean's hand and he wasn't surprised the older boy let him.