Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 6: Fools Rush In

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The wise in heart will accept and obey orders, but a prating fool shall fall.

~ Proverbs 10:8

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Though conversations with John never quite went the way Caleb foresaw them, this one really went off the rails. No pun intended.

"You better be calling to tell me that thing's dead or I'll have you scouring the forest for it 'til you find it," was John's conversation starter, and it soured Caleb's gut because it just drove home how perceptive Dean was. That John's son had understood that this whole hunt, Caleb's desperation to take the fugly down, to use Dean as bait, it had a lot to do with seeking John's praise, to not disappoint his mentor. 'Sure, don't disappoint John…just get his son nearly killed.' Because he hadn't thought the danger to Dean had been close, that he had intervened, like some hero, way before Dean was ever in jeopardy…but Dean's bruises today…told him how wrong he had been. About everything lately.

"I used Dean as bait," Caleb confessed, thought it was the best launching board he had, to make sure the blame for Dean's actions began and ended, not with Dean, but with him.

"And you put it down," John concluded, pride in his tone. "Youth and emotional stresses…guess Bobby was right."

John's pride, John's callous opinion that using Dean as bait was a sound decision only made Caleb more disgusted with himself, that he wanted to be more like John. "I used your son as bait and I didn't tell him. What part of that sounds like something you should be Ok with?! Let alone have you proud of me?!"

"Dean's not hurt, I would know if he was by your voice," John tersely observed, as if Caleb's snit was unjustified if Dean was still breathing.

Stunned, Caleb realized, "That's all that matters. He's right. It's all about victory and who cares if he gets hurt."

"You want to tone down that judgment five notches. This was your plan, not mine. Ahhhh," John drawled as he figured it out. "Dean's pissed at you for a change, instead of me. Not so nice being the responsible one, is it."

At his mentor's taunt, Caleb felt his eyes burn, rubbed at them before he hoarsely said, "Responsible….yeah. I was responsible for putting him danger, for ….breaking his trust in me…and for…for whatever he does next."

"Does next?" For the first time, trepidation had crept into John's tone.

"I think you should get here." Caleb didn't even care if there was a desperation to his statement, wanted someone to come and stop Dean, to make sure the kid lived to see sixteen.

"You didn't say he was hurt…"

"He's not but…"

"Everyone just ordered me to spend time with Sam so he doesn't….." John quit before he said 'run off again' but he didn't have to. Caleb was there when John got a dressing down from Pastor Jim and Mac about working things out with Sam, making sure his son didn't run off again, this time to somewhere they couldn't find him.

Caleb heard John's exhale through the line, his weariness of body and soul peeking through. "Now you're telling me you can't handle Dean just because he's mad at you."

"It's more than that, John!" Caleb knew John didn't respond well to high emotions so he drew in a breath but it only came out shuddering, as did his next words. "He's pushed me away…Mac too."

"Mackland's there? Kid, you've already got more backup then you should need."

"I'm not talking backup. I'm talking about Dean needing his father, needing you!"

And it was a terrible thing, to need to be in two places at once. John had felt it before: when he just had to save Mary, get her off the ceiling and yet, baby Sam needed rescuing. And then Dean came, was a boy of four but was suddenly his anchor, was there to take Sam, to save Sam allowing John to try and save Mary. And that's what Dean had been ever since, his stop gap, his anchor, the person he could trust to pick up the pieces, even when those pieces were his father's too fragile psyche.

"Whatever emotional funk he's in, he'll get over it," John said with confidence because that was who Dean was, the strong one who held their family together. "Besides, you screwed him up, you fix him, junior," and then he hung up before his resolve faltered, before he truly comprehended what a lousy father he was on all fronts, before he thought what he always thought when the weight of parenting was overwhelming him: "Mary I wish you were here" and "Please forgive me for screwing up our sons."

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Stabbing "end call" on his cell phone for the sixtieth time as Dean's voice mail kicked in again, Caleb wished he wasn't too terrified to go to Dean's motel again, was more confident that Dean wouldn't bring CPS down on his own head just to spite him. But Caleb couldn't risk calling Dean's bluff, wouldn't put Dean through the emotional ringer of being a victim of the callous system devised to protect children only to hand them over to sadists who only knew how to hurt the weak.

He was in the middle of his sixty fourth redial when he sensed the vision coming on and he was already terrified of what it would tell him. As he dropped to his knees, his Dad was suddenly there on the motel room floor with him, his hand comfortingly on his back, trying to anchor him to what was real. Then the vision took him, ripped him from whatever security he had and shredded it all to pieces.

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He was on a rickety hand bridge that spanned a mammoth gorge and below was water, again, with the freaking water. But this time…the height was dizzyingly high and he knew, to fall was to die, that the water below would not break a fall. Would decimate anything…anyone falling from that height. As he moved forward, feet testing weather worn boards, the bridge swayed, nearly flipped over entirely until he crouched down, settled the rocking with a low center of gravity. Only stood up when it was in no jeopardy of trying to flip again. Moving forward, he noted the missing boards ahead, had to do a little leap to clear them and he braced for the landing, the bridge seeming to sink as his weight hit it. But the ropes held.

And he could see the other side of the gorge now, that Jason was there, waiting, big adrenaline smile on his face. Had already mastered this stunt. ( Caleb spared enough of his terror to hate the kid at that moment – for getting Dean to do this, to risk his life for a thrill. And it was in that moment, when he had stepped outside Dean's prospective, sent that spike of hatred to Jason, that everything went wrong. He was jarred back into Dean's headspace…just as the bridge's right rope frayed away, sent the bridge and its occupant free falling to the water and rocks below.

"Dean!" Caleb screamed, suddenly jerked from the vision, from seeing what came next. He was nearly hyperventilating. It was only his father's "Take a breath Caleb, take a breath," that got him to do just that. Then he turned wide eyes onto his Father. "Dean…he falls, Dad. He falls..the bridge…."

Bracketing Caleb's face with his hands, Mackland gently but stridently instructed, "It didn't happen yet, son. It didn't happen yet." Waited until Caleb swallowed, gave a nod before he released him, dug out his own phone and started dialing Dean's number.

Psychically, Caleb sought to connect with Dean. Sensing his surrogate little brother's living essence, he felt only slightly less nauseous. Through their connection he begged Dean to not do what he was about to do and, though Dean wasn't a psychic, his blatant refusal came back to Caleb loud and clear. Cursing, Caleb knew what he was about to do, the lines it would cross, the possible consequences to Dean…but weighted against Dean being dead…none of it swayed his decision.

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They're making the climb to the bridge Jason was jonesing to cross when Dean felt the intrusion, Caleb's thoughts pressing against his mind, insistent to be heard. And he heard…and sent back his own message. 'Shove it, Caleb. What I do is none of your business.' Felt almost proud of himself when Caleb's anger came back at him, knew he actually sent his message and didn't even need any freaky powers to do it.

But his smugness lasted only a few more steps…until his head felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Pressing his palm to his forehead, he let out an angry yelp of pain even as he forced himself to continue walking, to not let Caleb play dictator on his off time like he did on a hunt. But the pain increased, had him stumbling. Jason caught him before he landed on the ground.

"What's wrong!?" Jason worriedly asked, carefully settling Dean down to kneel on the ground.

"Caleb's…trying to …" Dean bit out before he gritted his teeth, sent back a mentally snarled threat to Caleb. Ignoring the blood he felt trickling out of his nose, he tried to get to his feet. Everyone thought they had the right to decide on what or for whom or how he risked his life. And he was sick of it. His loyalty hadn't gotten his Dad's attention, Sam's devotion or Caleb's respect. Had just gotten him bloodied and bruised and alone.

Beside him, Jason was digging through his backpack. Dean didn't know he had brought anything out of his bag until he felt the older boy slip something over his head, something that fell lightly on his chest, over the amulet Sam had given to him. And the pain…. .Stopped. Agony to nothing.

"Mojo bag," Jason explained, tapping the little bag now dangling at Dean's chest. "Keeps the snoops out."

Sagging against a boulder, Dean hung his head and wiped the blood from his nose.

"Guess your babysitter really doesn't want you doing this bridge today," Jason quietly said, a little shaken at seeing just how far Caleb Reaves would go to try and stop Dean from this particular stunt.

"I don't give a crap what he wants," Dean growled, pushing to his feet and leading the charge, more determined than ever to cross the hand bridge, to defy death and Caleb.

"Maybe we should do it another day…you know, when your head wasn't about imploded?" Jason suggested lightly, true concern for Dean in his tone.

But Dean didn't respond or stop his relentless pace to reach the gorge. Would later think that he rushed to his own funeral, when the rope frayed, the bridge flipped right and sent him plummeting to earth without a parachute.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading & reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.