How Not to Train your Dragon
Rated: M (due to some potty mouths)
Disclaimer: All Supernatural belongs to Kripke and the Brotherhood AU belongs to Ridley C. James.
So here is my next foray into the Brotherhood AU. I've tried to inlcude several of our (or at least my) favourite themes (trouble-finding Dean, protective Caleb, foot-in-mouth Josh) I'll be posting this along side my current In the Shadows story. Gratitude and much love to Meilean for betaing and even more for her encouragement and support.
Caleb 23 - Dean 16 - Sam 12
Date – 1995 after May
Prologue
THEN:The Woods
Sixteen-year-old Dean Winchester was pissed at his best friend. To be fair, he was pissed at a number of people but the one that hurt most was his best friend. This was particularly problematic for the teen because his best friend also happened to be his only friend. And he could really use a friend right now.
The fact that he was limping through the woods, blood and rainwater running down his flesh, hardly able to catch his breath, was not helping his mood.
Damien had blown off the hunt for some dumb meeting, making a stupid comment about how Dean would never learn if he was always doing all the work anyway. It wasn't the teasing that upset the teen, it was the absence. It normally wouldn't bother him. He was proud of how well Caleb's business was doing. But Sam was away and it had brought up memories of another time his brother had been taken from him. He really wanted to see his friend and was disappointed they'd had to cancel the plans they had made for post-hunt relaxation. Just to make things suck harder, it left Dean hunting with a pissed off John Winchester.
Usually, Dean loved hunting with The Knight of The Brotherhood. Sure, John was even more of a drill sergeant in the field than his usual commanding persona, but there was no disputing Dean learned a lot watching the master at work. Besides, it was the closest thing he got to quality time with his dad.
If a hunt went well, afterwards he might even get a small glimpse of the man underneath the hunter, the man with the booming laugh and a twinkle in his eye. But things were not going well, Dean had messed up. He had seen the flash of fury as the thing they were hunting had run past him - or more accurately, run over him - and a foul-mooded Knight was no one's idea of good company.
Sharp pains assaulted his chest as the trail they were following got steeper. Just the hike alone might have done it but with bruised ribs and several lacerations, his father's command to 'suck it up' was quickly moving from hard to impossible.
To be fair, Dean was pissed at his old man too. His little brother, twelve-year-old Sam, wasn't speaking to him. Dad had laid down the law as usual but according to Sam, it was Dean's fault that their father had sent him on a tactical training course covering counter-surveillance, threat detection, and close quarters combat, for two weeks.
Emotions, usually ruthlessly held at bay, were trying to take advantage of the teen's weakened state and he swallowed down a lump as he grabbed a tree to stop a stumble becoming a fall. He blinked water from his eyes - it was just the rain damn it, just the rain - and pressed on before his father's back could disappear ahead.
Worst of all, the Scholar and the Guardian, who usually felt like beloved uncles to the two boys, had switched to their authoritative roles and backed up the Knight's plan for Sam's training.
Dean tripped and went down onto his hands and knees. He gasped, trying not to let it turn into a sob, even as tears blurred his vision.
"You're okay, up you get."
Dad must have turned back because he was now looming over him, one large hand grabbing his elbow and pulling him up.
"You don't get to quit, Ace. If you want to be a hunter it means doing the job, no matter what."
Dean nodded. He wanted to respond to the order but all that happened was a slight hitch in his breath. He cleared his throat.
"Just go, Dad. I'll be fine." His knees bent slightly, his body making the decision to sit without waiting for his mind's agreement.
John's grip on his arm tightened, keeping him upright. The other hand grabbed the other side.
"That thing is out there looking for someone to kill." There was a slight insistent shake. "We have a responsibility to stop it, do you get me?"
Chapter One
NOW: Pastor Jim's Farm
"Where the hell is he?" Caleb blew into Jim's kitchen a week later like a tornado. Even though it was past 2am, all three of the Triad were sitting at the table, coffee cups in front of them. John's hip-flask was on its side next to his cup, the cap tellingly absent.
Despite the abrupt entrance, Jim smiled at the young man in welcome. John, who had his head in his hands, hadn't even flinched.
Mac stood, reaching towards his son. "Caleb." He pulled him into a quick hug. "It's good to see you but what are you doing here? I thought your project started this week." His eyes scanned over the new arrival as if looking for injury.
"Last meeting was this morning, or yesterday morning I guess." Caleb glanced at his watch. "When I got out, there was a message on my phone." He had returned the hug warmly but now turned accusing eyes on his father. Mac passed the look on to the rugged man at the table who had yet to lift his head from his hands.
"John, we agreed," he reprimanded.
"I told Junior to call, not to come here," The Knight said, not looking up.
Mac just shook his head. They all knew there was no way Caleb would stay away. No doubt he hadn't called so they couldn't order him to remain at work.
"What do we know? How long has he been gone?" Caleb demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Son," Mac said soothingly. "We have no reason to think Dean is in any danger. He left the motel of his own accord."
Caleb threw a questioning look at his father.
"He packed a bag, and there was some security footage," Mac explained.
"Johnny actually splashed out for a place classy enough to have working cameras?"
"We could pick up enough from the grainy footage from the gas station," Mac pressed on before Caleb and John could get distracted trading blows.
"So why the SOS? When did you last talk to him?" Caleb pressed, his eyes and tone accusing. He may not be able to get a clear read on the well shielded hunters in the room but their anxious emotions still clawed at his psyche. As did the accusing growl that responded.
"When did you?" John still didn't lift his head.
"John." Mac warned. He was well aware it was his request, and John's adherence to it that had limited the contact between Dean and Caleb, though that had not been his intention. He'd wanted his son to focus on Tri-Corp, to put hunting on a back-burner for a while, to have at least a few years living in the real world. But he had never meant to impact the relationship between the two young men, a relationship he knew was vital to both.
"It's been a week, Mac."
"A week!" Caleb stormed. "What the hell?"
"Caleb!" Jim cut in sharply. "Please, calm down," he added more gently.
Caleb took a breath and threw the pastor a contrite look.
Mac explained calmly. "John left on the 12th, got back Tuesday night ―"
"And you didn't call me until yesterday?" Caleb interrupted.
"It wasn't until we got the security footage yesterday that we realised when Dean left." Mac continued to run interference.
"What happened?" Caleb demanded. His focus was still on his mentor, not only did he hold the man responsible, John's reactions were easier to deal with than Mac's calm reasoning, given the mood he was in.
John gave a dry, harsh laugh that held little humour and looked up. "You mean, 'what did I do?'," he said, meeting Caleb's eye. There was a momentary standoff but then Jim cleared his throat and John nodded acceptingly.
"Dean made a mistake on a hunt, before I could deal with it, I got called onto another job. With Sam away, Dean wouldn't have anything to keep him occupied."
"The runt's away?" Caleb was really out of the loop. In his experience the youngest Winchester was rarely allowed to go anywhere.
"We decided it would be good for him to do some training with other children his age," Mac explained.
Seeing Caleb's quizzical look, Jim expanded.
"Samuel is the baby with us, both in how we see him and in experience. Training with his peers will allow him to build confidence, to see how skilled and capable he already is."
"I bet he loved that plan," Caleb said sarcastically.
"I have faith that he will get a great deal out of the experience." Jim didn't add that, when they made the plan to send Sam to camp, he had also factored in that it would give Dean a break. The occasional border skirmish between the nations of Sam and John had become almost constant hostility. As their peacekeeper, Dean had been looking exhausted. Jim knew Caleb had plans with the teen that had subsequently been cancelled and the psychic had a tendency to blame himself for things that were not his fault.
Caleb managed to make the connection anyway.
"I cancelled our plans." He ran his hands through his hair. It had been just over a week ago, right before Dean had taken off, probably right after Sammy had left. The worst thing was, he'd had a nagging feeling.
"You said your meeting was important," John pointed out. He hadn't been happy with his protégé skipping the hunt to 'play architect' but he'd held his tongue. The argument he'd had with Mac not long before had been heated. In the end, no matter how stubborn the man was, John couldn't dispute that The Scholar had as much right to set rules for his son as The Knight did for his two boys.
"It was, but …" Caleb's abilities had given him no warning, no visions or ringing of the Winchester emergency alarm, which would go off when either of the boys were hurt or in trouble. Perhaps he'd relied too much on that, ignoring his gut in favour of 'responsibilities' that seemed so insignificant now. "What happened on the hunt?"
"If he hadn't been daydreaming ―"
"Was Dean hurt?" Mac interrupted.
"Barely even needed stitches, a few bumps and bruises ―"
SPNBROAU
THEN: Motel Room
The sharp point of the needle piercing his flesh was able to temporarily distract Dean from the thoughts that wanted to pierce his sanity and suck him in. Dad had, fortunately, let him sew his own wounds, even though it wasn't easy in the mirror. But the long laceration on his stomach was only deep in one area, so it didn't take many sutures to close.
The scent of the antiseptic stung his nose and prickled at his eyes. A rolling wave of tension cramped his stomach as the hairs on the back of his neck swayed in the breeze of his dad's gaze. The Knight hadn't said anything yet but he would. Dean's distraction on the hunt had led to his wounds and the escape of that thing. Which was how they'd ended up doing a two-mile ruck through the woods to catch up with it before it hurt anyone else. At least Dad had winged it before it escaped or their hike would have been longer.
Dean had barely been able to bring himself to speak to his father since, though he knew his grunts and one-word answers were irritating the Knight.
He winced as he tied off the thread.
He heard his dad's pager go and, thinking it might be Sammy, hastily stuck some gauze over the wound and hurried out of the bathroom.
"Yeah? … This is Winchester…" Dad was saying into the phone, having called the number.
Dean was intensely aware of the change in his father as the man listened to whoever was on the phone. The heightened tension, the pulsing energy, the hand fisting. Dean felt goosebumps prickle his skin.
John was asking no questions, so there was just the sound of traffic rumbling in the background and an indistinct murmur of whoever was on the other end of the phone line. The clicking of his father's fingers at Dean, indicating he needed something to write with, interrupted the boy's thoughts. He rushed to grab it.
"Where?" John said, taking the paper and pen from Dean and leaning over to write. "I'll see you tomorrow," he finally said before hanging up the phone.
Instantly he started packing.
Dean watched for a moment but got not a word of explanation nor even a glance.
"Dad? Are we going somewhere?" He finally asked, already dreading the answer he knew was coming.
John looked at him as if he'd forgotten he was there.
"Sorry, Ace, not 'we'."
"But…"
"Not now, Dean," John snapped, pulling a weapons bag from under the bed and starting to sort through it.
Dean took a deep breath and held himself together.
With purpose he turned and went to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and opening the bread he'd picked up. By the time John was ready to leave, Dean had 'coffee and sandwiches to go' ready. He held them out, insistence in his gaze.
There was something fathomless in the look his father gave him back.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. You know the drill …"
"I know Dad, I'll be fine, just go."
Dean knew his father too well, and had been in similar situations too often, to try and change the inevitable.
SPNBROAU
NOW: Pastor Jim's Farm
John lifted his cup, saw it was empty and put it back down again. "I knew something was bugging him but ―"
"But you figured you'd just ignore it!" Caleb interrupted caustically.
"Something came up," John replied with a bite of impatience.
The lead had been a mysterious house fire, vague reports that the young couple, who had barely escaped, swore they saw someone in the flames. He'd had to follow up.
It had been nothing in the end. Just a run of the mill ghost. He'd checked, and double checked, and triple checked, which is why a simple salt and burn case had taken him a week and left him rung out.
"So Dean was hurt and upset, and you just ditched him. Again!"
John glared up at Caleb. He'd already been grilled by the rest of the Triad, he wasn't about to take it in the neck from his protégé too. Dean could usually look after himself for a couple of days.
"He's sixteen not six!"
"I still don't see Dean just taking off," Jim interceded. Something about Knights predisposed them to be argumentative, even with their own. All the Knights he had known, or even read about, seemed to share the trait. Perhaps that was why Guardians, despite the nature of the organisation they oversaw, needed aspects of the peacekeeper as well as a will of steel.
"Just tell me you can 'feel' him or whatever." John was watching Reaves, a slightly disdainful curl twitched his lip. Caleb knew his mentor well enough to know, while he wasn't exactly a fan of psychic abilities, the anger was mostly about hiding fear, and probably some guilt too. He wanted to call the older man out but he could feel Jim's command that they keep things civil.
"First thing I checked when I got your message. He's fine, well he's alive and I'm not picking up bad vibes." It wasn't like he had an open line to his best friend, more just a constant awareness of his existence. "If he was in trouble I'd have a vision, right?" he said to his dad.
Mac's response was a questioning gaze. He'd picked up on the uncertainty in his son's tone.
"I'm not getting a clear read, it's like the connection is muted," furrows appeared in Caleb's brow as he pushed at the link again.
"Muted?" Jim queried. Mac had said something similar when he'd tried to locate the boy with a t-shirt John had provided. There was a clear presence but no specifics.
"It's not like when he disappeared completely that Christmas. He's there." Caleb tilted his head, trying to follow the threads in his mind, to understand what was different.
"Because he knows that would set off alarm bells," John growled.
"You think Deuce is doing this?"
"You know how he gets," John said tersely.
"How he gets?" Caleb practically spluttered. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"He doesn't always make the best decisions."
"Shocking, considering the great role model he's got," Caleb spat.
John's hand slammed on the table with a bang, rattling the cups. "Damn it Junior, you know as well as I do that Dean tends to get reckless when he's upset."
"Well maybe you should have thought of that before you dumped him in a sleazy motel and took off!" Caleb was looming over the still sitting Knight, having moved close.
John stood, forcing the younger man back a step. "If you'd got your priorities straight, he wouldn't have been on his own."
"John, that's enough!" Mac intervened pushing between the two as Caleb blanched.
John sighed. He'd known the reaction he would get from his protégé when he called him. But when he realised how long Dean had been gone … His boy was wicked smart and painfully capable but was drawn to trouble almost as much as he was to pie.
SPNBROAU
AN: Thank you for reading chapter 1, I hope you liked it :) I had a nightmare with this story and it's been rewritten so many times I have lost any objective view of it. Hopefully it makes sense and is enjoyable anyway. As always, all comments are welcome.