Mackland Ames, the Father
Part three
Disclaimer: see part one.

I had just returned the phone to its base, I rested my arms on the desk I was seated behind and placed my head on top of my arms. The emotions I had been holding at bay for the last nearly three days, since receiving that first phone call from Sam telling me my son had been hurt finally came flooding to the surface and I cried. Actually I did more than cry, I sobbed like a baby. I was thankful I was still inside the Tomb, but honestly if I had taken the call in the kitchen surrounded by Silas and his men I would have probably done the same damn thing. My son was safe. My son remembered.

The first forty-eight hours of this harrowing ordeal had been bad enough, but I knew that my son had been surrounded by men who would protect him with their lives if need be. First it had been Ethan and Elijah Matthews, then Sam and Dean. Then when they had finally made it back to the farm I was here. Even though Caleb didn't recognize me as his father, I was here and I could protect him.

One of the hardest things I think I have ever had to encounter in my life, and there had been many soul-crushing events in my past that I had conquered, was watching my beloved son walk through the door of Jim's farmhouse and seeing the confused, lost and scared look reflected in his golden eye's. All I wanted to do when he walked in was rush to him and wrap my arms around him, but I knew it would only confuse and frighten him more since I appeared to be a stranger to him. My heart lodged in my throat when he insisted I call him Caleb when I referred to him as Son, though as a doctor I understood the need for specifics in situations like this, but as I father it felt like I had been punched. My heart then broke when I placed my hand on his shoulder and he recoiled from me.

After the disaster of our 'introduction' a part of me was relieved when Sam intervened and offered to take Caleb upstairs to his room to rest, another part of me was devastated, my son didn't know me. Once Caleb left the room Dean had voiced his concern that maybe this was a good thing, that if the world was heading toward Hell in a hand basket then maybe one of us could go out without the burden of what we knew hanging over our heads. Secretly a part of me agreed with his line of thought, Caleb's life had been a roller-coaster of evil and supernatural since he was six-years old. But there was no way I could live without my son, as selfish as it sounds; I needed my son to continue the job I had been thrust into. Being the Scholar had been a difficult enough position when Jim and John were still alive, but once my brother's were killed the strain I felt myself under would have drown me many times over had it not been for my son.

When Dean entered the Tomb hours later telling Sam and myself that he had just explained the essence of what the Brotherhood was I actually felt my head swim. As he continued to explain it was because Caleb had found his Journal and read it, then found Dean's gravesite in the field adjacent to the pond I knew he had done the right thing. It wasn't until we entered the kitchen that my world again came to a crashing halt as I saw my son's hunters ring lying in the middle of Jim's kitchen table next to a still full mug of coffee. Caleb had reverted to a survival instinct so ingrained in his being that even with amnesia he had pulled from his past what he had done as a child, he had ran away.

I ordered Silas's men to start searching the property, normally Caleb would know this property with his eye's closed, maybe instinct would override his inability to remember and he would have taken to the woods. But Dean's yell from the yard dashed the hope that Caleb was near, the rented SUV I had gotten in Atlanta was missing, my son had left the protection the farm provided without his ring. As a psychic he was naturally vulnerable to supernatural entities that were out there, but as a hunter, without his ring, he was also vulnerable to the Demon's that were after the Brotherhood, who were after Sam and Dean and who would use anyone they could to get to them. Proof of that had been Bobby's possession. Though Caleb had the same protective tattoo the Winchester's sported, he was apparently still vulnerable since Bobby also wore an anti-possession amulet as well as his hunter's ring and the Demon's had found a way around that.

I immediately put a call into Caroline to start tracking if Caleb used any of his credit cards, while Dean and Sam headed out in the Impala looking for him. A half an hour later Caroline called saying that one of the cards had been used about thirty miles south of New Haven. I called Dean and Sam giving them the address, then waited. When the boys called from the gas station they said the clerk remembered Caleb because of the bruising that still littered his face, but that when he left he had headed north.

I shook my head, realizing he had laid a false trail, even in his amnesic state he knew how to cover his tracks. It was then that Dean came up with the idea to get Castiel involved. Unlike the Winchester's who the Angel could not track without the use of a cell phone, Caleb was open to any Angel who wanted to find him. So again I waited. I paced the house, looking at pictures Jim had taken over the years. Teenage pictures of my son, of him with the Winchester's when they were younger. Pictures of John and Jim themselves, some with me in them, some with the boys in them and some with my fallen brothers in candid moments that they didn't even realize someone had snapped the picture.

Then there was one of Caleb, it looked recent, possibly taken in the past year. It was here at the farm, I could only assume that Dean had taken it. Though he never let others know about it, the eldest Winchester boy had a knack for photography. I use to see him sneak Jim's camera around the house when he was younger, though I'm sure Jim knew all about it, since the boy was always able to find it and it always had film in it. Dean would snap shots of others when they weren't looking; his father working on the Impala, me with books and journals spread across the desk in the Tomb, Jim with his head bowed in prayer in his study. There were also pictures of Sam when he was smaller, his little cherub face covered in mud from playing with the dogs near the pond, or the little boy pouting on the back porch from some unknown travesty he was sure had been thrust upon him, possibly being told no, that he couldn't go on a hunt with his father. There had been a time when Sam had begged his father to go, but when the teenage years arrived all that changed.

Then there were the pictures of Caleb. How Dean was ever able to catch my son off guard, with the strong psychic link they shared was beyond me, but you could tell, Caleb had not known he was being photographed. One was of a teenage Caleb in the loft of the barn. It was someplace he would always go for refuge when things overwhelmed him, at least until he was ready to talk to me. The far away look in his eye's pulled at my soul, the expression was one of pain and loss, I could only assume it was around an anniversary of his parents death, that was usually the only time he would almost withdraw completely from everyone, even Dean.

However the photo I was looking at now, it seemed to tear at my heart. Caleb was sitting behind the wheel of his old blue Jeep that John and Bobby had gotten him when he was fifteen. They had spent every free minute they had working on it to have it running by the time Caleb turned sixteen. I hated that vehicle, it was a deathtrap in my eyes, but my son loved the damn thing. He drove it up until John died. It was then that he had parked it behind Jim's barn, covered it in a tarp and took over driving the large black truck that had belonged to John.

But now he was sitting behind the wheel, staring off, only seeing what was playing in his mind, I could only presume to know. It could have been memories of John and Jim, of happier times when we would gather on the farm for holidays or school breaks, or just for a long weekend. A chance to be normal, to take a day to be a family, without the supernatural dictating every move we made. Or it could have been the thoughts of what was laying ahead of us, Demon's and Angel's, Lucifer and Michael and their demand for Sam and Dean to be their Vessels in the epic battle of the Apocalypse. But whatever the thoughts, there was a glimmer of hope in his golden eye's. It was a hope that I had seen many times over the last several months. Dean compared it to Castiel's blind faith that God would rally in the end and ride in, saving the day. Jim would have been proud of my son's unwavering faith in the Devine, considering how Caleb use to fight tooth and nail to not have to attend Sunday services when he was younger.

In that photograph I found the faith that my son would be found and he would be safe and maybe, just maybe if God was on our side he would remember who he was and I would get my son back. It was as I laid that photograph on the desk in the Tomb that the phone rang, "We found him Mac, he's okay and he remembers us."

Sam's words echoed in my head, Caleb was safe and he remembered. "Can I talk to him?" I could feel my heart rate increase, I just needed to hear the familiarity in my son's voice that had been gone in the short time he had returned to the farm, I just needed to hear his voice. Tears filled my eyes when I heard the deep, though shaken voice of my son, "Dad?"

'Dad'. It was a word I had waited months to hear after I had adopted Caleb all those years ago. It finally coming after I had been injured on a rare hunt with Jim and Bobby, it had been the first real scare he had since he had come to live with me. I had been severely hurt and he, along with my father, had feared for my recovery. It had reminded Caleb so much of the losses he had endured throughout his life of those he had allowed into his life. I had been the first allowed in after so many years of him pushing others away and he had feared he was losing me. However, hearing it now started to heal the pain and fear I had been carrying around for the last several hours, for the last several days, knowing my son was lost and vulnerable in a world that was quite literally gunning for him, to get to us. "Oh thank God, Caleb. Son are you okay?"

I sat heavily in the chair as I waited for his response, "I'm okay…" A pause allowed me to hear the deep-breath my son released, "I'm so sorry Dad, I…"

I had to stop him, he had nothing to be sorry for, "You have nothing to be sorry for, I'm just so happy to hear your voice."

Again another sigh was heard and something inside me twisted, something was off. "Dad, I know what happened; I know why I didn't remember…it was Lucifer."

I felt my breath hitch; Lucifer had gotten to my son. The Devil had done something to my son that erased his memory of his family, of me. "Are you sure you are okay? Just come back to the farm, we'll talk about it; you can tell me what you remember. We'll figure it out together." I needed him here. I needed to see him, to touch him, to hold him in my arms to know my son was really safe, that the Devil hadn't hurt my son in some way.

"There's something I have to do first. I know you won't understand but…I need to go to North Carolina." Caleb's word broke; this was something he was begging me to understand even though every cell in my body was screaming for him to return home, to return to me.

North Carolina was where his childhood home was. Where his parents had died in the apparent murder-suicide. I couldn't begin to fathom why he needed to go to the place that held such horrific memories for him. However, I couldn't let him do it alone, "I can come with you. I'll meet you at the airport and we can go together." My hand shook as I held that framed picture in my hand, a tear slipping free.

"I need to do this on my own Dad. Its bad enough Deuce isn't letting me out of his sight. Please understand. I promise I'm okay, but I have to do this. I'll be back at the farm tomorrow night, but I have to go." The resolve in Caleb's voice told me it was something he alone had to deal with and as much as it pained me, I needed to respect his wishes, even above my own.

"Please Caleb, just be careful and come back to me safe, okay?" My voice cracked and I hoped he didn't hear it.

"I will, I'll see you tomorrow night." With that the phone disconnected. I returned it to its base and I cried.

It was almost another thirty-hours before I heard the rumble of the Impala pulling into the drive. Sam had called a while ago, letting me know they were back in Kentucky and would be at the farm within hours. Over the last day I had hardly slept, when I did it was fitful, with nightmares that my mind kept playing out of Lucifer doing something horrible to my son. It was now the wee-hours of the morning, much like the day when they had returned to the farm with an amnesic Caleb, but this time instead of fear and uncertainty in my son's eyes I prayed for the recognition of my son remembering who I was.

I couldn't stop myself as I rushed out the backdoor and down the stairs as the car came to a stop. However, I was proud of myself for not running toward the vehicle when the engine cut off. I could see Caleb's silhouette through the passenger's window of the Impala as it sat in the shadow of the porch light. The all too familiar creak of the doors let me know the boys were exiting, but it was the six foot plus frame of my son that I stared at, that I watched as he slammed the door shut and finally turned to face me. A few steps brought him into the edge of the ring of light from the porch. The swelling was gone from his face, only the bruising and few cuts remained, but it was the tear-filled eye's that finally propelled me forward. Tn three long strides I was face to face with Caleb. I finally saw recognition looking back at me.

"Dad?"

That was all it took to break my resolve as I pulled my son to me, my arms holding him tight. Many times over the years I would try and hug my son, sometimes he would relent to a quick embrace, other's he would almost shrug it off, not wanting to tarnish his 'macho' image he tired to maintain. However this time was different. This time I felt him latch onto me with the same intensity that I held him. I actually felt a shutter through his body as I heard a quiet sob escape my grown son. He had been scared, he had been alone and frightened and in this moment his was a child again. A child who needed the comfort of his father to help chase away the nightmares. I raised my hands and took his face in them, pulling him back just enough to see into his eyes. There was relief in them, relief he was home, relief he remembered me, and relief that he finally felt safe again. With a whispered voice I spoke, "I've got you Caleb, you're safe now, you're safe."

With a slight nod and another tear slipping free I felt him pull me back in and I felt his body relax as he allowed me to give him the harbor of safety only a father could provide. Tomorrow would bring us the next challenge, but tonight I was his father and my job was to protect him from his nightmares and for a little while that's exactly what I would do.

A/N: I mentioned part of a story from Sensue's 'suitcase of memories' story collection. Hope she didn't mind. This my final installment for this story. Thanks to everyone who read my story and thanks to Ridley for the wonderful 'Still Unbroken' fic that I just can't seem to let go of. Anyway, until next time-Montez