Deuce and Damien
Chapter 2
Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Dean had been watching from the top of Bobby's stairs. His father had put him and Sammy down for a nap then headed back downstairs. Within a few minutes Dean heard movement outside the bedroom door and caught a glimpse of Caleb quietly making his way by, a faint creaking of the stairs gave away where the teen was headed. As the five-year old made his way out of the room he heard raised voices coming from downstairs, but none were the booming voice of his father. From his perch on the top step Dean watched Caleb pacing outside the large room they had passed when they arrived, before his father ushered him and Sammy upstairs.

Dean watched the teen run his hands through his hair as it was obvious, even to a five-year old, that the older boy was getting mad about something. The teen's voice broke the silence in the hallway, "This is bullshit." Then Dean watched Caleb grab his coat from the hook as the older boy made his way out Bobby's back door.

Slowly making his way back to the room he was sharing with his baby brother, Dean grabbed his coat and gloves then quietly made his way down the stairs. Looking toward the door he knew his father was behind the small boy made his way to the back door and quietly slipped out, following Caleb.

Dean still had problems zipping his jacket so as he stepped outside the cold wind flapped it open, his tiny-mittened hands grabbing the edges, holding it closed as he ran toward a row of stacked cars, hoping to see Caleb as snow flakes started to fall from the sky.

Oxoxoxoxoxo

"How big is this place?" John had sat Sammy down in the playpen he had picked up at a second hand store, then made his way toward the door.

"Hold on a minute," Bobby grabbed John's arm, he hadn't known Winchester long, but the look the young father shot him had Bobby stepping back a few feet.

"What? My five year old could be out in this and you think I'm gonna sit and wait for the weather to break?" Covering the last few feet, John grabbed his jacket off the hook.

"I'm coming too; Caleb's most likely out in this as well." Mac stepped up next to John, donning his own coat.

"John, didn't you say you were from Kansas? You know how these storms work, a few feet from the door and you aren't gonna know which way to turn." Bobby hated the thought of the boys out in this, but not having children of his own, nor being around other children he didn't understand the pull the two father's were feeling.

"How big is this place?" John asked again, a hard glare boring into the man before him. Sammy had started crying at the sound of his father's voice growing louder; Jim made his way toward the toddler to offer some comfort.

"Fine." Bobby mumbled as he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, retrieving a layout of the property as well as four hand held radios. "I'm coming with you." The men surrounded the paperwork, "I've got fifty acres here, twenty covered in junk cars, the rest woods, we better damn well hope they haven't headed in there or we'd never find them in this."

"I don't think Caleb would have headed toward an unfamiliar wooded area…" Mac started.

"And if Dean's following Caleb then we need to focus on the yard." John leaned in closer looking at the layout.

Jim walked up to the desk, Sammy nestled to his shoulder. The small child, with his thumb in his mouth, was watching his father's movements. "You have shelters throughout the yard, for tools and parts, correct?" Jim asked, silently hoping that maybe the boys were together and may have taken shelter in one if unsure how to get back to the house in the storm.

"Toward the back, I've got a couple of lean-to's and a small shed. There's a barn on the other side of the property near the woods." Bobby grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, then handed each man a walkie-talkie. "If we each take a row and wait for one another at the end, we can cover the yard faster; if we don't find them along the rows we can check the lean-to's."

John nodded, liking the idea of a search grid, "Jim, you'll watch Sammy for me?"

Nodding the Pastor walked with the men toward the door, "Of course, just be safe and bring our boys back." Holding up the radio he was keeping he added, "Keep in touch."

John pulled the door open, the freezing wind and snow blowing in, causing Sammy to cling to the Pastor as Jim pushed the door shut behind the men, "Lord, guide their path." Jim whispered as he made his way toward the window, losing sight of Bobby, John and Mac as soon as they stepped from the porch.

Oxoxoxoxoxo

Dean never understood why his mother would call him in out of the snow. He could remember when his mom was still alive and they would play in the snow together, making snow men and snow forts. He could remember hiding behind the fort when his father was due to come home from work, His mother would wink at him as his father exited the car then they would both stand up and throw snowballs at John after he shut the door to the Impala. That would set off a reaction that had his father running for cover on the other side of the car, then the older man would send his own round of snowballs toward Dean and Mary. Eventually everyone would end up in the yard laughing so hard they couldn't make anymore snowballs. Dean could remember begging his mother to lay down with him and make snow angels, Dean loved the snow.

Then Mary would announce they needed to go in because they were getting cold. The small boy never felt the cold and would beg his mother for a few more minutes, but then his father would scoop him up and hold him over his broad-shoulder and carry the small boy in the house, giggles echoing in their wake. However, now Dean was starting to really feel the cold as he held his small coat closed, the wind trying to rip it open, the snow coming down so hard the child couldn't see more that a couple of steps in front of him. Now Dean hated the snow.

He had tried to look for Caleb, but the older boy was no where to be found, Dean was getting scared. He was determined not to cry, he hadn't cried since the night his mother died and he would not cry now, but he wanted to. He turned, hoping to see Bobby's house but all he saw was white as the snow continued to fall. With his little arms wrapped close to his body he stumbled forward a few more steps then tripped over an unseen object in the snow, his knee catching on the edge of something sharp as he cried out in pain. It was then that he couldn't stop the tears from falling, he was scared, he was cold and he was alone, "Caleb!" the young child called out hoping the older boy would hear the first word Dean had spoken in nearly a year.

Pulling his hurting knee closer to him, Dean tried to curl in on himself, hoping to get warm as the tears he felt fall from his eye's seemed to try and freeze on his small face. Burying his face against his knees as he brought his hands up to cover his head, Dean suddenly felt tired. The allusion of feeling warm caused him to blink slowly as his mind started to beg for him to close his eyes for only a minute. "Caleb!" the small boy mumbled again, really wishing the older boy was there to help him get back inside as he allowed his eye's to close, no longer feeling the freezing wind pulling at his coat.

Oxoxoxoxoxo

Caleb had his collar pulled up around his ears, the jacket zipped as far as it would go, his dark-haired head looking toward the ground as he tried to keep his nose and mouth covered. He knew winters were cold, but at least in New York there were many places to duck into if the wind got to be too much, but out in the open, with only rows of cars stacked four or five high, the wind just seemed to channel down the aisle. He knew he couldn't have been outside that long, but with the blinding snow and freezing wind it was feeling like hours instead of minutes.

"Should have paid better attention where you were going dumb-ass." The teen mumbled to himself as he came to the end of a row, looking up and only seeing more cars instead of Bobby's house like he'd expected.

"Caleb!"

The sound of his name over the wind had the boy turning around. He didn't see anyone but was sure he had heard his name as if someone was standing next to him.

"Caleb!"

"Who's there?" Caleb yelled as he turned again, still not seeing anyone, but the voice sounded young, child-like.

As he turned again he caught a glimpse of a figure near the end of one of the rows of cars, "Hey!" he yelled, running toward the person, not sure who would be in Bobby's junk yard in this weather. As he neared the spot the figure wasn't there, "Hello!"

Looking down the row of cars he again saw the shape of a person. Making a point of not taking his eyes off them, he raced down the aisle as the snow and wind continued to blow. "Hey!" he called again, only to stop several feet from the figure when he was met by the image of a woman with long black hair and gold-green eyes. He felt his heart rate and breathing increase as a photograph flashed in his mind, it was a picture he had last seen in his grandmother's house in New Orleans before Bird brought him to New York. The person before him was someone he had not seen in person in over seven years, not since the terrible night when he was six-years old.

"Mom?"