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 7: Without A Net

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Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.

~Psalms 37:24

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One moment, Caleb's hardwired into Dean and the next that connection is just….gone.

A piercing cry of utter despair burst from Caleb, vibrated through the room like an explosion, stopped Mac's heart. But Mac was moving anyway, was grabbing Caleb as his son lurched from the floor, grief and terror distorting his features as he lunged for the door, to escape, to not know what he knew. And Mac could barely hold him back, grabbed at waist and shoulder and the back of his son's neck, pulling his son into his arms, against his body, trying to hold him, to put down his struggles. But Caleb was keening by his ear even as he tried to push Mac away, to break free.

And into this insanity…a cell phone rang. Caleb's to be exact.

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Dean was no stranger to staring death in the face, of facing down a monster whose strength beat his own ten fold. And he always had a backup plan, always had some reserve strength tucked away somewhere in his soul, always put up a fight. This time was no different. Even as he was falling, he was scoping out other solutions, was refusing to accept this as his last hurrah, was reaching out…and snagging onto the strand of rope dangling from the bridge.

But his weight had the rope shearing away from the bridge, sent him swinging on a pendulum, Tarzaning toward the gorge wall made of unforgiving granite. Looking below, he saw that the wall, ten yards down, would ease out into a gradual slop of muddy terrain. And right then, mud trumped granite as far as landing pads went. So inches from the wall, he did the craziest thing…he let go of the rope.

Then he was free falling.

Until he impacted, back first, onto the muddy slope. It knocked the breath clean out of him. Then he was caught up in an uncontrollable mud slide down the west edge of the gorge, was rushing by and through the scant vegetation the last flood hadn't totally cleared away. Only to end up…getting deposited right into the gently moving river like the most awesome water slide known to man.

He plunged under the water, came up moments later, ears a little water logged, his body scratched up and aching but he was undeniably alive. "Yeah! I wanna do that again!" he shouted, loved that his voice echoed back to him. That the world heard him and acknowledged him right back.

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Shoving his father back with almost super human strength, Caleb frantically dug into his pocket for his phone, answered with a voice fractured by the emotions drowning him. "Dean!?"

But it wasn't Dean's voice that answered him but Missouri's. "Caleb, he's not dead. Dean falls..but he doesn't die. You hear me, Dean isn't dead."

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When Jason dropped him back off at the motel, Dean knew he was gonna draw looks, what with him still doused in mud, his hair plastered to his head, him bleeding on all four limbs and a little on his cheek. 'Least it's just my blood I'm sporting,' he thought. 'Not some monsters…not the blood of someone I was supposed to save.' Just his blood, no one else's, it was all he was accountable for now.

But his honed instincts hadn't shut down and he could sense something wasn't right about his room. And if he was just a normal, pimply faced teenager, he'd run to mommy or daddy, maybe call the motel managers…or the cops. However, he wasn't that lucky. Whatever waited for him, it was his to handle. Which was why he pulled his knife from his boot before he slid the key into the door's lock and kicked the door open.

And saw that it was just Caleb breaching his perimeter. The twenty three year old was sitting on his bed, his head bowed, apparently waiting to emotionally ambush him.

"Get out Caleb," Dean lethally ordered, hand pointing to the parking lot, like Caleb was one of Pastor Jim's dogs trained to listen to such verbal commands. It did, however, get Caleb's head to come up, for his former best friend's eyes to rest on him. Dean tried not to react to how bad Caleb looked, his eyes red-rimmed, his pallor sickly, his chic stubble almost crossing into beard territory. Didn't know if Caleb looked like that yesterday and he just didn't see it. But Dean hardened his heart. 'If he feels guilty for using me for his own ego trip, for trying to fry my brain today ...good. He should.'

"What? You wanted to see the pain you can put me in up close and personal," Dean bitterly challenged, stepping into the room because 'screw Caleb', he wasn't going to run scared from him. But when Caleb stood up, Dean took a step to the side, put the table between him and Caleb, though he knew that wouldn't do a jack bit of good if the psychic used his powers on him again.

Caleb's breath hitched as he noted Dean's defensive move, a move that proved that Dean thought he'd hurt him again. Voice so raw it sounded like he'd been immersed in a smoke filled room, Caleb said, "I…I shouldn't have done that."

"Fry my brain, backhand me or use me as bait," Dean snarked back because even afraid, his nature was to antagonize, to put up a fight.

"All of it," Caleb choked out, would have never believed he was capable of any of that against Dean, let alone all three.

"Good to know. Now get out." And Dean headed to his bag on the nightstand, started rummaging through it like his unwanted guest was already gone. Jerked his arm away when Caleb made a grab for it.

"You have to listen to me," Caleb stressed, knew he needed to get through to Dean, stop the kid's reckless behavior before what he feared happened today came true.

With a voice colder than Caleb had ever heard from the kid, Dean decreed, "There's nothing to say. We're done."

"Dean, no …"

"We're done!" Dean shouted, throwing his bag across the room, his breath puffing out of him as he stared down the older hunter.

And as much as Dean was trying to come off as an adult, able to make his own decisions, Caleb was hit with how young Dean looked right then. Of the bloody scrap on his cheek, the blood peeking out between the mud and blood on his torn shirt and jeans, the fact that even in the minimal space of the room, Dean's motions were careful, spoke of aching muscles, a right leg that twinged pain when he put all his weight on it. It was irrefutable evidence of what happened to Dean after Caleb's vision cut out, after the bridge collapsed. Of the miracle it was that the kid was standing in front of him instead of his body being dredged out of the river. The question came out of Caleb full of heartbreak and fear, "What are you doing to yourself, Dean?"

Knowing Caleb's eyes were drawn to the blood his face was sporting, Dean used the back of his hand to wipe it away, only ended up smearing a red swath across more of his cheek. "I know you're pissed you can't claim all this came from you," yanking on his ripped shirt to prove his point.

Choked, Caleb began, "Dean, I didn't mean…didn't want to…."

Dean didn't let him finish. "You know what they say about actions speaking louder than words. You, Sam …Dad, you're all spelling things out for me but it's taken me until now to get it. Proves how stupid I really am, doesn't it," bitter self-hatred in his tone.

Instantly Caleb defended Dean, "You're not stupid, Deuce! And..what things?"

"How far down I am on the who-gives-a-crap list. Funny thing is…Sammy and Dad…they've always been pretty vocal how little what I want matters to them. But you.." Here he gave a humorless chuckle. "I actually thought you had my best interests at heart."

Taking a step closer, Caleb declared, "I do!"

Dean pointed to his cut lip, the bruises on his jaw line, damage Caleb's backhanded slap had done. "Really?" Dean angrily goaded.

Caleb swallowed down his emotions, stuffed his guilt away, knew it wasn't about him, about how torn up he was inside over his actions, was about Dean, about healing Dean. "I screwed up. You were right…I wanted John to be proud of me. But I never…."

Dean didn't wait to hear what he said next. "Sam wants to piss Dad off and you want to worship him and I'm the one that gets hurt in the process. And Dad…he eats it up, is proud of Sam's spirit and your blind allegiance. Me, he barely knows I'm alive..until there's a hunt he needs me for."

It was automatic for Caleb, to protect Dean, to denounce hurtful beliefs…even …maybe especially when they had a ring of soul decimating truth to them. "Dean, that's not true." And though he didn't think Dean would welcome his hand on his shoulder, he didn't expect Dean to roughly shove him backwards with surprising force for a fifteen year old.

"You're gonna love telling this around the campfire. How the Knight's kid is a whinny baby, can't get his Daddy's approval or even be someone his brother and best friend can stand to be around," Dean growled, cursing himself for saying the things he had, for opening up, for not remembering Caleb was no longer on his side, maybe never was. Not if the choice came down to John Winchester's respect or Dean's friendship.

"Enough!" Caleb shouted, felt a little ashamed Dean flinched at his tone. "That's not how I see you or how Sam does."

But Dean was done swallowing down the lies. "For once in my life…I'm going to do my own thing and you're not stopping me."

"Own thing?!" Caleb repeated with disapproval. "You mean seeing if you can break every bone in your body or…or" But his next words, they invoked memories of his vision that day, of the terror of thinking he had lost Dean for good, couldn't be said without his emotions shining through. "Or kill yourself."

The worst thing was, Dean didn't deny his assumption.

"Either way, it's none of your business." Dean retreated back another step to the night stand. "I want you to leave, right now or I'll call the cops myself." Because that was still the best leverage he had, Caleb's fear. (And part of him knew it was Caleb's fear for him, his worry for him but he tramped that down, was too hurt to have that matter.) He went as far as picking up the motel phone.

"Dean, just calm down. We both know you won't do that," Caleb quietly, even gently said, almost hated to call Dean out on his bluff, to weaken the kid but desperate times called for callous moves. 'Like trying to "fry his brain" yeah, your methods are really working out well,' he couldn't help but chide himself. Realized that this wasn't going to be the time he got it right, not when Dean freaking dialed in a phone number.

Caleb didn't leap for the phone because, the number Dean dialed, it's wasn't short like 9-1-1. Knew if he reacted, Dean won so he stood there, tension humming off him. But his blood froze in his veins when the call apparently went through, when Dean started talking…to his school guidance counselor, the one Dean said was pressing him about how he got the cut on his face a month ago.

Too late Caleb recognized that Sammy wasn't the only actor in their group, the only "ttthhespian" as they teased Sammy for being, when they needed someone to pull out the big eyes and tears. To emotionally con someone to get something they wanted.

"Mr. Hall, you said…you said… I could call and talk," Dean let his voice dramatically tremble for the sake of the person on the other end of the call even as his eyes held not vulnerability but smug confidence as he met Caleb's gaze, saw the fear cross Reaves' features. "Anytime I needed to…well I need to."

Caleb knew if he took the phone from Dean, hang up the line, if he grabbed the kid and shook him like he wanted so badly to, if he even said one word…Dean's guidance counselor would make the call for Dean. Would think the kid was in danger and send 5-0 to the motel, to come to Dean's rescue…to haul the fifteen year old off to someplace "safe".

But Caleb couldn't make himself leave, to let Dean's self-destruction continue even as he knew he couldn't stay, couldn't even pull the kid into a hug because Dean would take his advance as a threat, couldn't speak because the guidance counselor would hear. And he couldn't chance even sending a message psychically, not after the way he had violated Dean earlier with his powers. But he needed a gesture to say everything he had been trying to say all along.

The guidance counselor was rambling on about how it was good to talk about things, that he was a good listener but Dean's full concentration was on Damien, was waiting for his ex-BFF to make his counter move. Watched in disbelief and confusion as Caleb slowly took off his Brotherhood ring, the ring that Caleb valued above nearly all of his worldly possession, treasured almost as much as he did the Brotherhood membership and members it represented.

Holding Dean's gaze, praying that Dean understood what he was trying to say, what his actions signified, Caleb sat the ring down on the kitchen table, saw the crease of more confusion that marred the kid's mud streaked face. But he couldn't stay and explain it, only had that silent gesture to convey what he was willing to give up to get the younger man's love back. Then he walked out the door, prayed that Dean didn't say the wrong thing to the counselor and get himself hauled off by CPS. That he'll have tomorrow to try again to make amends with Dean, to get his little brother back.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.