Chapter 4

There was a warm, familiar, and safe presence, a gentle touch that reached into the sleeping world and called him back to consciousness.

"Mom."

Caleb's heart clenched at the mumbled word that was clear as a bell to him. He'd been there. That moment between dreams and waking where your heart can believe, just for a moment, that the person you yearn for, the one you only see in your dreams, might actually be there. He didn't answer, he just gripped the small hand a little tighter, offering what comfort he could, before the harshness of reality set in.

Dean awoke to the depressingly familiar smell of hospital. It took a moment but then he remembered, he'd needed an operation on his ankle.

"Damien?" At least that was what he tried to say. His best friend appeared in his eyeline immediately. A straw then appeared too and he took a sip of water.

"Are you okay?" There was real worry in the familiar golden eyes, and a tautness to the brow that spoke of a migraine.

"Did something happen? Did you have a …"

"No," Caleb interrupted before Dean could build up a panic. "It's nothing, I'm fine," Seeing he wasn't believed, he gave a half truth. "Just my concussion, nothing to worry about."

Dean nodded slightly.

"Then why are you holding my hand, Reava?"

Caleb managed his first genuine smile since he'd seen the hospital sign coming closer. The truth was, since losing him during the MRI scan, he'd been maintaining a physical as well as a psychic connection every minute he was able. But he wasn't about to admit to that. Reluctantly, he removed his hand.

"Just keeping you from picking your nose in your sleep, Deana."

"I don't do that!"

"Don't you?" Caleb teased.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked down at Sammy who was sleeping on his bed, the opposite side from Caleb. He had carefully tucked himself against the raised rail, presumably to avoid the wires that Dean had been hooked up to and the extensive bruising that was making itself known more and more as Dean became more awake. Instead of WooBee, he had Dean's other hand grasped in both of his and tucked against his chest.

Dean tried to shift a little to get more comfortable.

Caleb's hand was back, if just resting on Dean's arm now. "You need me to call Mac?"

Dean shook his head then stopped as a wave of nausea rolled over him.

"I'm getting the doctor." Caleb reached for the call button but Dean's hand came up to stop him.

"No, I'm okay." Caleb paused and as Dean calmed when he did, he sat back down. "Sammy?"

"Did you miss Barnacle boy, stuck to your side?"

"He's okay?"

"He's fine." Caleb frowned, he was missing something.

"He was hurt, I hurt him," Dean said, looking down at his brother.

"No, you didn't, Deuce." The sharpness in Caleb's tone had Dean looking at him, startled. Caleb softened, "Sammy told us what happened and Mac looked at his hand, it's fine. He's hurt it worse by falling in the playpark."

Dean searched his friend's sincere eyes and then shrugged as his gaze drifted back to his brother.

"Where's Dad?"

"I'm serious kiddo, what happened wasn't your fault, you know that, right?" Reluctantly, Dean nodded. "Johnny boy knows it too." Caleb knew he was on the right track when Dean looked at him.

"Then where is he?"

"Mac dragged him to the cafeteria for coffee."

Caleb leaned back in his chair as Dean's eyes flicked around the room. The kid was closed off and he knew now was not the time to press. Dean's eyes had settled on the cast covering his lower leg and Caleb saw an opportunity for a change of subject to lighten the mood.

"I know, nice blank canvas," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"You broke your leg too," Dean reminded him.

"Non-displaced fracture, only a boot needed." Caleb swung his booted foot up to rest on Dean's bed.

Dean frowned, momentarily thwarted, but then mischief lit his eyes. "If there's no plaster to draw on, I guess I'll just have to find something else," he said casually. He had once, inadvertently of course, put the idea into four-year-old Sammy's mind to draw on the faces of sleeping members of the extended family at the farm. He had not reckoned on the unfortunate choice of permanent marker. Caleb, who had got off lightly with a stick man on his cheek, remembered the incident vividly and narrowed his eyes at the younger boy.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" Dean smiled angelically.

SPNBROAU

Down in the cafeteria, Mac was sitting opposite John.

"… think about what?" The fortified Knight growled.

"Why Dean doesn't want Samuel, or Caleb, to know what happened."

John's mouth opened but then, rather than attack, or even defence, all the hot air seemed to escape out of it and he deflated. Dean was trying to cover for him? Dean thought he needed to cover for him? "My God, that look on his face …" He could picture it so clearly, that split second after the bag hit and before Dean had taken off. Devastation ravaged John's features. He could feel himself falling, lost to the void without his anchor. Worse than that bag hitting his son, worse than the broken bone, the bruises, the blood, was Dean's quiet acceptance of it, of all of it.

"It really was an accident, Mac," John's voice had become strained. "I lost my temper, but I never meant to …" he couldn't lose his boys, he couldn't lose Dean. Dean held them together, held him together. "You sure he's going to be okay?" The MRI had found nothing broken but the ankle and the operation had gone smoothly. There was some intramuscular bruising that would make movement difficult for a while, but it should heal with time and rest.

"Physically." Mac said pointedly. John nodded his understanding and, as satisfied as he could be that his message had been received, Mackland softened. "I would prefer him to stay in hospital longer but there are no signs of internal injuries." John had told Dean he'd spring him as soon as doctors gave the all-clear following the operation. Mac was worried John would be signing an AMA the moment the kid woke up. "But I'm sure between the cast and a nice stay at the farm he'll recover before he finds more trouble to get into."

"The farm?"

"I called Jim, he's coming to pick both boys up."

John looked unhappy that this had been arranged without him.

"Running to Daddy?" John sneered. "I don't need you making arrangements for my family."

"You still have a case to work and Dean can't look after Sam while he's incapacitated. Sam's class is winding down to the end of term anyway, and Dean won't be back in school with his injuries," Mac reasoned. He had actually called The Guardian because he was sure it would cause the future Triad extreme trauma to watch the current Scholar throttle The Knight, so he'd needed a cool head to sound off against.

John's eyes glanced around the room. He let out a breath, trying to let go of his anger.

"Fine but I'm going to need back up."

"Who were you planning to use? Don't tell me you were thinking of taking Dean on this hunt?"

"Don't start, Mac. The kid wants to learn and last I checked I wasn't the only one planning a future as a hunter for him."

Mac dropped the issue and moved on. "Next on rotation is Sawyer."

"Good, that kid could use some proper training."

"Senior," Mac clarified, keeping his face straight with difficulty. He knew how John was going to take that.

Sure enough, the Knight's face darkened.

"I suppose Caleb could go with the boys and I could stay and help out," Mac said lightly.

Suspicion instantly lit John's eyes. "You're volunteering to go in the field?"

Mac carefully kept his face passive.

A wicked glint lit Winchester's eye as he sipped his coffee. "What's her name?"

"Whose name?"

"Whatever piece of tail Junior is currently chasing."

Mac snorted. He didn't recall his own passage through the hormone fuelled years being quite so active as his son's seemed to be. He had been concerned about Caleb sneaking out to meet his latest interest rather than resting his ankle. It wasn't his only, or even his main, motivation but using his son's exploits as an excuse may be a way to ensure John agreed to his plan without flying off the handle.

"So we have a deal?"

"What deal?" John asked suspiciously.

Mac looked at him.

SPNBROAU

The car ride home the following day was like a poker game. Nearly all the occupants of the car were trying to read at least one other without being read themselves. Caleb didn't even have an advantage since his father had threatened to 'chemically castrate him' - psychically - with the 'good drugs' if he didn't rest his mind until his concussion was better.

The exception to this poker game was Sammy, who nattered on about trains and jellyfish and his absolute certainty that ice cream would make his brother feel better so they should pick up lots and lots of it on the way home.

Whether to shake off the tension of the ride, blow off some steam in general, or a distraction tactic from the scrutiny he could feel from his best friend, Dean initiated a 'sword' fight with Caleb, using their crutches, while they waited for John to unload the ice cream and unlock the front door. It resulted in Dean sitting in a hedge, and a complaint from a neighbour, who had a close escape from injury when her hat was knocked off.

Which is how Caleb and Sammy ended up sitting watch over a sleeping Dean who had been knocked out by the strong painkillers Mac had administered in the aftermath.

Sammy had set himself up comfortably to 'watch over' his brother. His bowl of ice cream was perched on Dean's chest; his open jellyfish book was on Dean's stomach; and a cup of juice had been wedged between Dean's thighs. Sammy alternated between these diversions and hovering his face just inches above his brother's, checking for - well Caleb wasn't sure what he was checking for.

Caleb kept himself busy decorating Dean's cast. No dragon had ever escaped with a clean white cast for long, as far as the psychic knew. Especially since he came along. He had tried to convince Dean there was a rule in the handbook banning the wearing of undecorated casts, but he didn't think he'd been successful.

He decided against his initial 'Deuce falling off a train' idea, in light of the fact something was clearly still bugging the kid and he wasn't sure what it was. He eventually vetoed Sammy's request for jellyfish; they were all starting to feel that if they never heard another damn word about the sea creatures again it would be too soon. In the end he decided on dragons. Firstly, he'd had a lot of practice in drawing them, and, as a secret second, no matter how much he and Deuce might deny it, all three boys drew a strange comfort from the tales Pastor Jim had weaved for them over the years.

Mac shook his head at the scene when he came to check on his patient. He wasn't sure he approved of the way they were using Dean; like a foundation to build their nest upon. But, as he saw the six-year-old lean carefully over his brother's face before patting his head with a small, 'it's okay Dean', and saw the careful pen strokes refining the outstretched healing paw of Cam, the blue dragon, Caleb was currently working on, he decided against reprimanding them. Instead, he wished he had a camera.

SPNBROAU

Whether it was because of what his brother and friend had got up to while he was knocked out, or just because staying still was something Dean was never very happy with, by the next day the eleven-year-old was determined not to take any more drugs that made him foggy and was eager to get out of bed.

Caleb made his way to Dean's room, having picked up that the kid was planning an escape attempt from the forced bedrest to join the others in the main space. Even though his crutches had been confiscated after the sword fight.

Caleb's crutches had not been confiscated. On the contrary, Mac was threatening to duct tape them to his hands if he didn't start using them.

"I've decided, no more cowboy movies for you," Caleb said, resting his shoulder against the doorpost as he adjusted his hold on the sticks. With Sammy distracted it was a good time to try and figure out what was bugging Dean. "What the hell possessed you to jump from a moving train?"

Dean shrugged, instantly regretting the action as it pulled on his bruises.

"I figured it would be like when Dad has me do it from the Impala."

"That's different, Ace," John said, appearing behind Caleb and pulling the teen's boiling blood from the heat. "The car was moving more slowly and you're not so far from the ground when you jump. Besides, I thought I made it clear that was for emergencies only."

"Yes, Sir." Dean's response was automatic. But really, he had thought it was an emergency. Sure, no one was bleeding but …

"Junior, I need to speak with my son." Dean was brought from his musings to see the commanding look his father was giving his best friend. Caleb glanced worriedly from John to Dean but as John cleared his throat the teen complied with the order and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dean lowered his eyes to his sheets as his father came and sat on the edge of the bed. John waited until Dean's eyes darted up to check his face and he smiled softly.

"What happened before, when Sammy got hurt, that shouldn't have happened," John started.

"I know, Dad, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have …"

"I'm talking about what I did kiddo," John explained.

"What?" Dean abandoned his examination of his bedspread to look at his father in shock. "But I…"

"Sammy told me what happened," John sighed.

"I shouldn't have left him alone with the hot tray."

"He's old enough to know the word no and to accept the consequences of ignoring it." John said with a firm look at his eldest. At some point Dean was going to have to let Sammy take some responsibility for himself but John wasn't about to hold his breath. "What happened, with the bag, it was an accident, you need to know that." John looked into his son's intense eyes. He saw no blame there but hurt still lingered. "It shouldn't have happened." He tried for a smirk. "I'm way too old to do what I did."

That got the corner of Dean's lip twitching upwards.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not, Ace." Doubt still lingered in Dean's eyes. John's cheek twitched. "So, it's only fair that you get a free shot."

"What?" Dean looked far more horrified than he had at anything else his father had ever thrown at him.

"You get to throw one punch. Just one mind," John smiled.

Dean looked into his father's face. His dad was completely serious and Dean already knew his answer but the offer opened some doors. Something that had been taut inside him suddenly loosened. He might not always like it, but he knew his dad, better than anyone. He understood the fear and fury that drove him, the doubts and determination that caused actions and reactions that left others frustrated and baffled. He knew his dad was a good man, a hero. And, he knew John Winchester wasn't a man to apologise, even when he was wrong.

"Can I pick a proxy?" Dean smirked.

"Hell no, and your best buddy doesn't need to know anything about this!"

Dean shrugged noncommittally, that cheeky look still lingering.

"Can I take a raincheck?" Dean asked, blinking his big green eyes at his dad.

"You want to keep one in the bag, huh?" John smiled at his son.

"Well, you never know." Dean couldn't imagine ever wanting to use it. The offer was more than he'd needed.

John ruffled his boy's hair. They would be alright.

"I am sorry about the cookies," Dean said more seriously.

"Yeah, about them …"

"What?"

"Your brother and Caleb ate them all."

"But Sammy needs them for school tomorrow," Dean cried, moving to get out of the bed. John pinned him, more by the look he gave than the hand lightly placed on the boy's shoulder.

"Don't worry, I've got it covered."

"You have?" Dean's scepticism was to be expected, John had a reputation for burning water.

"Relax, I brought in a ringer."

"Caleb, if you stick your finger in that dough one more time, I will make sure you do not have use of it for a week!"

The pastor's stern reprimand travelled through the closed door.

"You called Pastor Jim?" Dean was on the verge of shouting 'Christo', between the offer to be allowed to throw a punch at his dad and then his dad calling in help, he was starting to worry.

"Mac did. You and Junior are not the easiest patients and he seemed to think we'd need reinforcements." John looked somewhere between annoyed and amused.

"Yeah, like you and Mac are all sunshine and daisies when laid up," Dean grumbled, loud enough for John to hear but quiet enough to indicate he didn't want to be completely disrespectful.

John chuckled. "You may have a point." He patted his son's shoulder as he got up. "Get some rest."

As he opened the door, Sammy's voice travelled through.

"… but Pastor Jim can bake because he wears a dress."

A brief flash of bemusement crossed John's face as he wondered what had led his six-year-old to make such a statement. Then he rolled his eyes.

"Caleb! What have you been teaching my son now?" he demanded, marching through the door and pulling it closed behind him.

Though he knew Caleb would cover for him, Dean had half a mind to confess. Then again, he thought as he heard his father's rumbling reprimand through the wall, he had been ordered to stay in bed. Besides, Mac and Jim were here, Caleb wouldn't get in too much trouble.

The End

AN: So that is the end of this story. Thank you for reading, I hope you have enjoyed it. Special thanks to those who have reviewed, I really appreciate it :) Thank you again to Meilean for her help and support. Best wishes to all. xx