The morning of Caleb's dreaded sentencing dawned. For a moment, after his brain had propelled him to consciousness, he laid there, hoping against hope to prolong the inevitable that seemed determined to push him out of bed and get him moving.
Sighing against his pillow, he finally rose when it became clear that his body would not allow him the blessed reprieve he had been hoping for. Moving around his room, he stripped out of the clothes he had fallen asleep in, and into some fresher, cleaner ones.
He would change later for the court hearing, but was determined to start out the day in something that wasn't what he normally wore to the courthouse. It seemed, to him, that he had been visiting the courthouse so much recently, that he had his outfit memorized.
Trying not to feel the trepidation that was wearing thin on his nerves, he scrubbed a hand over his face as he ventured down to the still dark kitchen. The rest of the occupants inside the house were still asleep.
A quick look at the clock above the stove, confirmed why. It was only seven in the morning. It was rare that he could pry either of the boys out of their beds before nine, especially if they had had nightmares during the night.
Grateful for the momentary solitude, he tried to enjoy his coffee, while trying not to dwell on the fact that it could be his last coffee as a free man. Even though Dawn assured him that she would put up a strong argument that he should gain probation instead of prison time, he was realistic when he considered those chances.
When had a convicted child abductor ever received probation?
It would be wonderful, especially when he factored in the enforced separation that he and the boys would be forced to go through if he went to prison, but he wasn't so confident about his chances of actually obtaining it.
The thought made him sick to his stomach, but it was one that he was hard-pressed to forget. If the State made a big enough deal of him receiving a prison term than a probationary one, the judge would most likely impose it.
He hated this, he hated the uncertainty, and he hated the fear for himself and the boys, and he hated the fact that, for some reason, the people that held the ultimate power of deciding his fate, couldn't see the absolute love and adoration he had for those two boys, and that he would rather throw himself off a cliff than see them get hurt.
It was terrifying to imagine the worst possible outcome, to be taken out of that courtroom by deputies in handcuffs, and be on his way to prison, but it was something he had to prepare himself for, even if it was completely horrific.
"Hey," Dean said, as he finally came down into the kitchen.
"Hey, bud," Caleb said softly, as he finished the last of his coffee. "Want some?"
Dean shrugged, as he settled himself on the chair in front of the island counter. "Yeah, sure."
"How did you sleep?" Caleb asked, as he studied the thirteen-year-old intently.
He was up earlier than he was on most days, and Caleb could see the way he was struggling to hold in his yawns, as he accepted the cup of coffee that Caleb gifted him with.
"Not good."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Sam slept with me again."
"Another dream?"
Dean shrugged. "I guess."
"Is he still sleeping?"
Dean shook his head. "No, he's up there getting dressed."
Usually Dean was an open book with him, but when he barely spoke to him unless Caleb initiated the conversation, he knew that something was up, and it wasn't hard to guess what, as Dean suddenly turned away from Caleb, using his shirt sleeve to wipe his eyes.
Out of everyone, Dean had been the one that had been the most affected by what had transpired with Caleb and his continued legal battles with the courts. This time, it was worse on him, because he knew the penalty that Caleb was facing if a judge decided to hand down the harshest sentence.
"Are you okay?" Caleb asked, trying to crack through the tough walls that Dean had put up around himself.
No answer; only a shrug.
"Come on," Caleb said. "It's just you and me, let's talk."
"There's nothing to say."
"Well," Caleb said thoughtfully. "Obviously there is."
"I'm just tired of this crap happening to us."
"You mean with what's going to happen today?"
Dean nodded, his green eyes shining briefly with tears before he determinedly scrubbed them away. "Yeah. It makes me sick to my stomach when I think of what they're doing to you."
Caleb nodded thoughtfully. It made him sick, too. This was his life on the line, and the boys, who would be faced with yet another major loss in their lifetimes.
"It does me, too. We have to, as hard as it may be, to imagine something good coming out of this."
"Like what?" Dean demanded, finally turning to face him. "You going back to jail for life?"
"No, me getting out on probation. That's what I'm hoping will happen today. That way, we won't have to think about running, we won't have to do anything but sit our butts here."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. I just...I can't go through this anymore."
"You mean with-"
"With having to say goodbye to you at every single turn."
"I don't like it either, Dean," Caleb said, as he started getting the breakfast food together. "I hate it, as a matter of fact, but it's the hand that we've been dealt."
"It doesn't mean that I have to like it," Dean argued.
"I know that."
"When is the-" Dean sighed, trying not to break down completely. "When is the...sentencing?" It was difficult for him to even speak the words.
"Around noon. I have to be there a little bit early."
"What time?"
"Around eleven or so."
Dean nodded, biting down on his thumbnail. A nervous habit that he had had for as long as he could remember, and especially now, when everything was going straight to hell, his thumb had been getting quite the workout.
"Alright," he said, his voice cracked.
"We'll have more of a chance to talk about it over breakfast, when Sam comes down to eat."
Instead of the usual, animated feel that breakfast normally had, it was mostly silent. Each person tense, as they absorbed the weight of what would happen that day, as they quietly ate the food in front of them.
For Dean, it was complete devastation, as he desperately tried to internalize it. Not let it show on the outside, how much this had all affected him. It was hard though, as he furiously bit down on his food, using all the weapons at his arsenal to carry him through that morning.
For Sam, it was confusion. He had only really been "in the life" a short time. It was completely dizzying to him, to realize that people who were supposed to be good, had convicted his beloved guardian based on lies from the prosecution.
"So," Caleb said, as he attempted to start a conversation to the otherwise silent table. "What is everyone's thoughts about all this?"
"About what?" Dean asked, as he twirled the food around the plate, before finally stabbing it with his fork.
"Everything that we talked about."
"You mean yesterday?"
Caleb nodded. "Yeah."
"I want to go. If they expect you to serve time for something that you didn't do, then we absolutely need to go."
It wouldn't be fair, Dean figured, for Caleb to take the fall for something that he had had absolutely no part in. He was not the monstrous abuser that the opposing side had made him out to be, and their family couldn't be divided because of the malicious, wrong allegations made by another.
Caleb nodded thoughtfully, considering Dean's words, and the heavy weight they carried with them. It wasn't fair, and Caleb absolutely recognized that as fact.
"Sam," he said, turning to the nine-year-old. "What are your thoughts on all that we talked about yesterday?"
Sam shrugged, as he distracted himself from answering by picking at the pancakes that he usually loved. "I don't know...I don't want you to leave. I know that."
Sam had only been a year old when John had been killed. The family he knew with Caleb, Jim and Bobby, was the only one he knew. He didn't know life without one of those guys in his life, and the fact that he had been faced with losing not only Jim, but now Caleb, it was very confusing and upsetting for his brain to comprehend.
"I don't want that, either," Caleb said, shaking his head, as he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I don't want to leave you kids at all. Not for one second."
"What about me?" Bobby asked, jokingly, as his mouth spread wide in a teasing grin.
"Shut the hell up," Caleb said with a slightly forced laugh.
"Anyway," Dean said, "if the choice is to either stay here and let you rot, or to leave and take our chances, I'd rather do that."
"Well," Caleb said, "Bobby and I were talking about it late last night-"
"About what?" Dean interjected.
Any "talk" that diverted from the original plan of leaving, made Dean very anxious as he glanced back and forth between Bobby and Caleb, wondering what he had missed out on.
"We were saying," Bobby said cautiously, knowing what a delicate subject this was for Dean to handle. "That if Caleb were...to get an extended sentence, we would wait a month to do anything until his appeal was heard."
"Why?" Dean asked, even though the logical part of him was understanding the genius behind that idea, especially if Dawn would be able to get it downsized when the time came.
"Because," Caleb said, as he clasped his hands in front of his face, breathing deeply. "If Dawn is able to swing a successful appeal in a few weeks, then this can all go away without having to resort to anything drastic."
It was obvious Dean wasn't in favor of that plan, but there was nothing he could do about either, and even though he hated to admit it, the plan made sense. It was just that he didn't want anymore time spent away from Caleb.
"I just don't want this family to be apart anymore," Dean said quietly.
"I know," Caleb said gently, "but this does make sense, doesn't it?" he prodded, trying to appeal to the part of Dean that he knew would see the brilliance in waiting vs jumping the gun on it.
"I guess."
As he walked into the courtroom with Dawn for the start of the sentencing hearing, Caleb tried to control the frantic racing of his heart. The breakfast had been hard, the goodbye to the kids had been even harder, with Dean not even bothering to hide his tears as he gave him a tight hug goodbye.
Sam, while more subdued than his older brother, was still clearly upset. It was those images that Caleb walked into the semi-crowded room with. Sighing deeply as he settled himself at the defense table, he tried to imagine a positive outcome for the afternoon, as he glanced over at Dawn.
"Hey," he whispered, trying to catch her gaze.
"Hi," she whispered back. "Are you doing okay?"
"Ask me after," he said, swallowing convulsively as he stared at the front of the room where the judge would be making his appearance soon. Whatever decision he made, Caleb realized he would have no choice but to live with it.
Even if the outcome was them eventually, staging a prison breakout.
Or him roughing it out for a month until a successful appeal went through.
Or even the miraculous outcome of him getting probation.
"All rise!" The bailiff ordered, as the judge entered the room
Once they sat back down, the real panic began, because he knew that it would start now. The prosecution would hammer in their asinine reasons as to why he should be sent to state prison, and Dawn would be making her counter-arguments as to why it shouldn't happen.
"Does the State wish to proceed?" the judge asked, directing his attention to the prosecutor, Mark Williamson.
"Yes, Your Honor."
After that, Caleb had to listen to more than an hour of the prosecution stating their reasons for why a lengthy prison term should be the appropriate outcome. The number one reason was his past criminal history, and the manner in which the boys had been taken.
"Caleb Rivers knew what he was doing when he transported the two boys across the state," Mark said, as he nailed the final nail in the coffin. "He was well aware of the court order, and he committed a federal offense when he decided to kidnap them."
Caleb shook his head, bowing his head briefly to wipe away tears. "No," he whispered, catching the look that Dawn gave him.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"This man," Mark said, "has a history of lying, he has a history of fraud and other charges to his name. It seems that every once in awhile, he ups the ante a little bit, and this time he committed the crime of kidnapping a child."
Once he was done, Dawn finally got her chance to dispute the damage that the prosecution had done. As she got up to talk, Caleb leaned foreword, trying to catch every single word that she spoke. It was his last chance for a judge to give him leniency, and he was hoping that he would.
"He was convicted of kidnapping," Dawn said. "The jury believed that, and that was the decision they made with the power that they held. Now we are here a sentencing. I know, and my client knows, that some_ sentence has to be imposed, and we respect the burden the court has in following the laws in this state.
Before you make your decision, I am asking that you consider the mitigating circumstances that surround this entire case. It is sealed in police records that Sam Winchester has a stalker. Perhaps my client's actions weren't made with the greatest of judgment, but he was only trying to protect the boys that he adores.
That's all."
Caleb nodded, hoping that the judge would listen to the more sound argument she was presenting, than the insane one that the prosecution was trying to pass off.
"He did not do this out of a malicious reason, he did not kidnap the boys to cause them any harm. He did this out of a deep, deep sense of protection for the boys. The crime should fit the punishment, and the crime that he committed was not your typical case of kidnapping. My client is sorry. We are asking for leniency so this family will be able to be reunited."
After that, it was solely up to the discretion of the judge. As Caleb waited for the final decision to be handed down, he could feel himself hold his breath, his stress level increasing to almost maximum level, as he glanced over at Dawn, and was met by nothing but her calm and reassuring presence.
"Does the defendant wish to make a statement to the court before I impose the sentence?" the judge asked.
He and Dawn had talked about what he would do when presented with the option of making a final statement before the judge handed down his decision, and Dawn hadn't seen the harm in him making a brief statement to the court of apology, and to plead in person for a lighter sentence.
"Yes, Your Honor," Caleb said, as he stood. "I know that there's nothing I can say to change the course of events that brought me here. The only thing I can do is apologize for the problems that this has caused, and for you to know that my intentions were to never bring harm to those kids. I love them, they're my life, and the only thing I can do is to ask you to allow us to be a family again."
Sitting back down, trying desperately to control the influx of tears, he waited for the decision to be handed down. It was nerve-wracking for him, but he tried to control the panic that he could feel, as he watched the judge contemplate the enormous task ahead of him.
"I can understand the special circumstances of this case," the judge said carefully, as he addressed the courtroom. "I can also appreciate the circumstances surrounding this case. I don't know if the defendant is being entirely truthful or not, but the facts of the case that are documented that can excuse the behavior, I can understand."
Caleb held his breath.
"However, I cannot excuse, by the defendant's own words, how he purposefully ignored the court order, and not only did that but was caught outside of Minnesota. No, he may not have been trying to hurt anyone or the children involved, but what he did was still defined as kidnapping."
"Your Honor-" Dawn interjected.
"I am imposing a prison term of twelve years, with the possibly of parole after six years served. The defendant is remanded into custody."
The last chapter
