One Week Later

Going on a case was the only thing that felt even remotely natural after everything that had been disclosed to them by Missouri. Not only that, the family had made a trip to visit the parents of the young girl that had been kidnapped. They just confirmed everything Missouri had confided in them, and that their daughter had begun to show signs of "abilities" that mystified her doctors and family alike.

With that revelation, it felt destabilizing to attempt a job, but life went on. People needed to be saved regardless of the crisis his family was struggling with. Absentmindedly examining a nick in the handle of his knife, the other issue Dean found himself worrying over was a more present one. It would be one of the first cases Caleb would be going on since his release, and since his PTSD diagnosis. Inhaling a deep breath, Dean tried to push the tightness out of his chest at the thought Caleb was attempting too much too soon.

After all, his panic attacks had not stopped since they first started, and his nightmares only seemed to be getting worse. Not that Dean doubted for a second Caleb would knowingly lead him into an unsafe situation where he was concerned, but it was the opposite of that word Dean was thinking over. Striding out of his bedroom and down the stairs before he could change his mind, his eyes fell on one of his workout gloves on the kitchen counter.

Ever since Caleb had been released from jail, they had resumed their regular training sessions down in the basement. The high-intensity of their time in the workout room had allowed for Caleb to sweat out some of his more unpredictable mood swings and had enabled them to resume the deep bond they shared with each other. Moving around the counter to snag some drinks for the road, he wished they had had more time to prepare for the case. The workout session they had earlier that morning had ended abruptly when Sam had yet another bad dream.

At the moment, they were at a standstill in their search of the YED. In order to progress further to find him, they were utilizing all the resources they had at their disposal.

"Where are you going?" Sam wondered as he watched Dean gather some snacks for the road.

"Case. With Caleb." Dean did not miss the look of hesitancy that passed over Sam's face as he watched his brother gather some more things for the trip. With a case that was appearing to be unpredictable at the start, it was better to go in prepared for anything than to be surprised when they got there. Never more aware of that than at that time, Dean found himself packing more than he was normally instructed to.

Sam hung around the counter, sneakily treating himself to a pile of candy that was lying in front of him. Never one to mince words when he was upset about something, Dean found his brother's lack of comment surprising. It did not take a genius to know that Sam was nervous about them leaving, and he could well understand why.

"What kind of case is it? Demon, or-?"

"We're not really sure." Dean trailed off at the sound of Caleb's footsteps on the stairs. It had been a good day; no nightmares that he was aware of, and no panic attacks that had become the norm. "Supposed to be a haunting of some kind. A huge castle."

Sam's eyes widened as he ventured further into his brother's room. "Really?"

Dean nodded, allowing an uncertain smile to cross over his face. "Really."

A haunted castle was something he had only dreamed of investigating before. Having the chance to actually go in and solve something like that? It was priceless, and momentarily eased any lingering fears Dean had over going on the trip. It would be long, but it would be well worth it.

"What are the details?" Sam had his hand cupped under his chin, watching his brother intently.

"Henderson Castle. Built forever ago. Legend has it, the owner died natural, but apparently he has some juice that's making him go crazy on the guests."

"Guests?" Sam had latched onto Dean's last words.

"Yep. After Frank bit the dust, the new owners turned into a cute little B&B."

"But...how can the spirit be mean if he died normal?" Sam's eyebrows had raised in question.

"That's the million dollar question."

What was supposed to be a new start for the castle, had turned into a repeat of its dark history when the guests began mysteriously dying. Some were bloody, but most were innocent enough to pass for a natural cause determination from the coroner. Feeling his heart kick up when he knew what others did not, Dean looked over when Caleb strode into the kitchen. His bag was lazily slung over his shoulder, and his eyes bore no sign of the insomnia that had wracked him ever since he got home. Knowing full-well that appearances could be deceiving, Dean was just determined to enjoy as much of the 'old' Caleb as he could. It seemed Sam was in that mindset, too, and teasingly flew into Caleb's arms to give him a big hug.

Caleb, of course, returned the gesture and tickled Sam's sides until Sam was squirming dangerously in his arms, his body shaking with laughter. Unable to resist the smile that crept over his face, Dean joined in the assault and contributed to Sam's fake misery. These were the times he secretly lived for; the times that reminded him that there was still hope Caleb would be able to get better and overcome the trauma his mind was inflicting on him. Studying his face closely when he let Sam down, Dean was able to detect a slight shift that only he was able to perceive because he knew Caleb so well. He was nervous about something, but it was not to the point where it was crippling .

"How are you going to kill the spirit? Or demon?" Sam wondered, following his family around the home as they picked up last minute things.

"Different ways for different things," Caleb explained, passing a sheath over to Dean. "If it's a pesky little spirit, you salt and burn the bones. Or whatever it's attached to. If it's a demon-"

"Then it depends."

"You got it, Sammy."

Attaching the sheath to his hip, Dean followed Caleb out to the garage where they were about to take off. The car was packed and ready, and Jim was gathering some last minute research for them. As always, hunting was a family affair, no matter who was taking on the case. Pausing at the passenger side door, Dean let out the breath he did not realize he was holding as Caleb prepared to get in. Catching his eye, Dean wondered how best to approach the topic at hand.

"Are you sure?" Dean started, ignoring the tears that threatened to push past his guards. Never once did he think his family would ever go through something as terrifying as they were going through with Caleb and Sam. It made every evil thing they had ever gone up against, seem like harmless ponies and kittens.

"About the case?" Caleb's voice was soft, gentle, the same it had always been, and resigned to the fact that things were much different than the last time he had gone on a hunt. "I'm...I'm doing okay, Dean."

"Okay," Dean began, sliding into the front seat, feeling the cool leather on his back and legs. "But what does 'okay' mean?"

In the reality of what they were battling, 'okay' could mean many different things depending on the day. 'Okay' could mean that Caleb had gone a night without having a panic attack. It could also mean that he had sailed by without having a night terror that followed him the rest of the day. As the car stayed in park, Caleb debated his answer to him. Dimly aware of the pounding of his own heart, Dean did his best to keep it under wraps.

"It means that I somehow got through the night last night without waking up to blood soaking the bed, or-or John's corpse lying on the floor." It gutted Dean to hear how broken Caleb's voice sounded. It made him seethe with rage at the circumstances that led to his arrest.

"That's-that's good, right?"

Caleb nodded slowly, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. "To be honest, I kinda need this job. I need to know that I can still do this and not get thrown in jail."

That seemed like a fair enough reason, and so Dean did not object when Caleb started the car and pulled out on the road. Soon, the harsh beat of a rock song filled the car with sound that pierced the silence that had fallen over them. Leaning against the cool window, Dean breathed in and out as he allowed the song to fill his being. Beyond that, his thoughts laid squarely with Henderson Castle, nestled deep in Michigan. With any luck, they would be able to positively identify the spirit or demon wreaking havoc, and be home before too long.

"Mad driving skills," Dean observed, a smirk playing on the edges of his mouth when Caleb sharply turned onto the highway.

"You know it. You have to be quick on roads like these, where the traffic is insane."

"Yeah, I guess."

Dean couldn't wait to drive. He already had a number of cars lined up that he would love to own. If only he could reach the age where he could legally drive. Four years seemed like an eternity from then.

"I bet you can't wait to drive," Caleb noted, seeming to read Dean's exact thoughts.

"Seems like torture to wait."

"It won't be too long. It might seem that way, but it won't be that bad."

Dean nodded, as he brought his hand up to his mouth to scratch something. "When are you going to start training Sam?"

Sam had only just started learning the basics of what his family did, and had just the precise art of learning to shoot targets. The harder physical combat training would come once he got a better handle at what he was doing then. If it was Dean's choice, Sam would never have to learn anything more.

"There's no set time. I figure that he can observe us when we do stuff, so he'll get the idea."

Dean hated that his brother even had to be in that position, to have to learn to fight, to kill. It seemed too impossible, too cruel for him to even contemplate.

"You nervous?"

Dean nodded. "About Sammy."

"I know, but we'll ease him into this. It will be okay."

"He's already started asking questions. He thinks what we do is cool. That we're cool. Which," Dean said with an exaggerated scoff, "we are."

Caleb shook his head, grinning. "You're something else. Alright, so how long does it say on the map?"

"Uh," Dean said, as he took out the map that had been stored in one of the storage places by the door. "About a thousand years."

"Awesome," Caleb said with a yawn. "We'll find a place to check into, and then we'll start doing the research."

"We have to get there first."

AN:

For those of you who do not live in Michigan, Henderson Castle is a real place, and a real B&B . And legend does have it that the owner does still prowl around its halls.