Hi guys, so I thought this would be the last chapter of this one but it ended up a lot longer than I thought so is in fact the penultimate one.

Grateful thanks to Meilean for her help and support and putting up with me 😊

Toys belong to Kripke and Ridley (thanks to both for letting us play with them).

Chapter Seven

Previously: "How is Dean?" John asked. Mac had been with Dean when Caleb had panicked.

"He's resting, he seems okay. I'll know more when he wakes up but I believe the danger has passed."

John nodded. He'd believe that when Dean was back to running around and driving him insane.

NOW: The Hospital

Dean made his first steps towards doing just that when he nearly set the whole hospital on alert by 'disappearing'. He was located trying to sneak into Caleb's room a short while later. John threatened to restrain him in order to keep him in his bed. Mac pulled some strings instead, to get the boys into the same room. John gave the Scholar the same look he would give whenever he felt Mac was spoiling his boys but didn't object.

Bobby had come by to confirm that he and Sawyer had cleared all traces of the Succarath. They had found the den and confirmed there were no more, full-grown or young, then torched it. They'd taken care of any traces left by Dean too. Mac let them continue to use the suite at the Marriott as a base. He'd have them clear the place out once the boys were ready to be discharged so they could all head to the farm.

Dean had been shifting between genuinely sleeping and playing possum, Mac had caught him quickly closing his eyes a few times where he had obviously been watching Caleb. So once his son had managed to stay awake and coherent for a while, he subtly cleared the room and closed the door so the two friends could speak.

Dean slid out of his bed moments after the door had shut and shuffled over to the other cot. Caleb opened his eyes, squinting painfully, but tried to smile.

"Are you ok?" Dean asked, his eyes running over Caleb's pinched and pale face.

"I'm fine." Caleb's voice was low, barely more than a whisper. Dean matched it.

"You don't look fine."

"I look better than you." The grin was more grimace and Dean refused to enter into the banter, instead he frowned.

"Dad said you were okay but Mac's poker face sucks."

"Mac's just upset that someone else gets to stick needles in me for a change." Caleb tried to sit up slightly, quickly realised that was a bad idea and flopped back down.

A cough from the doorway had both boys looking that way. Caleb grinned at his father, not remotely contrite at being overheard.

Dean dropped his head, looking caught.

Mac came forward and checked Dean's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Dean shrugged.

Even after the fevers passed, both boys had been having trouble regulating their body temperature. The doctor felt this was due to the energy spent during the psychic attack. Like the aftermath of possession, they had burnt through most of their resources and just needed time to recover their strength. Physically, Dean seemed to be doing better than Caleb but his silence was worrying them all.

"Your temperature is staying down now. Any headaches?"

Dean shrugged again. Caleb frowned at him but Mac just shook his head and turned his attention to his son.

"How's your pain level?" The doctor's sure hands felt Caleb's temperature and pulse, despite the machines that would provide him readings on both.

"See, I told you, he's just looking for any excuse to stick me with one of his needles." Caleb tried to grin at Dean but the boy wouldn't look up from the floor. Mac had moved onto Caleb's swollen elbow and narrowed his eyes when his son winced at the slightest movement.

"The medication you were given should have taken effect by now."

Caleb shrugged, keeping his face smooth.

Dean leaned forward, pulled two pills from under Caleb's pillow and handed them to Mac.

"Thanks Judas," Caleb grumbled.

Mac eyed the pills then looked sternly at his son.

"Don't make me take them, please?" Caleb hated the way he sounded weak and whiney, but his head was messed up enough. He'd take pain over the fogged nightmares the drugs would induce.

"You'll take these tonight. Tomorrow, we'll see," Mac ordered, forcing the two pills into an unwilling hand, then folding his arms and waiting. Caleb swallowed them with a scowl.

Mac glanced at Dean who had passed his friend some water.

"Let's get you back into bed young man, you need some sleep also."

Dean made his way back to his bed without speaking or looking at anyone. Caleb questioned his dad with his eyes. The reply was clear, we'll talk later.

SPNBROAU

NOW: Pastor Jim's Farm

Hearing the crunch of wheels outside, Jim moved to the door and lifted the curtain to look out. Three vehicles pulled up. A sleek black Chevy, A dusty blue Jeep, and a shiny red Mercedes. He opened the door and Scout ran out to greet the arrivals.

John and Dean emerged from the Impala, Mac had been driving the Jeep with Bobby shotgun. Joshua got out of his car and went around to help Caleb who was struggling to stand on the other side. Mac had insisted, to the disgruntlement of both, that the mod-cons in Sawyer's car would be best for his son. Caleb was still struggling to regulate his body temperature and concussion-like symptoms reared their head every time he moved.

"Get off me," Caleb shook off the assistance and wobbled determinedly towards the house.

"Caleb," Mac breathed in exasperation, meeting his son halfway and taking his uninjured arm. Josh was hovering in the background holding Caleb's bag.

"Take that up to my room, would you James?" Caleb said imperiously, grinning at the blond.

John grabbed the bag from Josh and Mac smiled apologetically.

"Thank you for driving Caleb here. I am sure he will be more than happy to provide a favour in return as soon as he recovers his manners," he said with a stern glance at his son. Caleb rolled his eyes as Josh smirked.

"I actually do know of a favour he could do for me."

Caleb scowled at his dad.

"Joshua, you've had a long drive, come in and have some cocoa," Jim said pleasantly from the doorway. Josh made his way past the Triad, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, even if it was softened with chocolate. "Caleb my boy, how are you feeling?"

Caleb's eyes were drifting, like he was struggling to maintain focus. It took a nudge from his father before the Pastor's words sunk in.

"Hey Jim, I'm good thanks," he forced a grin but the pain lines on his face were clear to all.

"I think you should perhaps have your cocoa in bed," Jim said, looking him over worriedly.

Caleb didn't much fancy being sent to bed like a kid but he could barely remain standing so he nodded.

"I want to get started on the reports," John gruffed, passing Caleb's bag to Mac who it was understood would help his son upstairs. "Junior, I'll be needing yours at some point too." John's hand gripped Caleb's neck for a moment, pride in his eyes. "There's no previous first-hand accounts of beating one of those things."

Caleb nodded to his mentor then let his father help him into the house. Dean, who had looked at no one, followed silently.

"You're still worried," Jim remarked softly to John as they watched Mac start to help Caleb up the staircase. Dean had moved around them to take the other stairs.

"I don't like missing pieces." John's eyes were fixed on the point he'd last seen his son.

SPNBROAU

Two mornings later, Jim joined Caleb on the porch where he had retreated after breakfast to rest his barriers. The swelling in his arm was down and his bruises had passed their peak, but the battle with the Succarath had left him psychically exhausted and he could neither read nor block with any degree of purpose.

Jim sat on the bench swing next to him and handed over a coffee. They both looked out at the lake, the silence between them peaceful and soothing.

Bobby and Josh had left the morning after they'd arrived, following Josh's promise, or perhaps threat, that he'd be in touch regarding that favour.

Since arriving at the farm, well since before that really, Dean had been quiet and moody. Mac continued to monitor the health of both Dean and Caleb but refused to push the younger boy, running interference when it looked like John might. John had been mostly holed up in the tomb, almost as taciturn as his son.

"He thinks I picked work over him and he can't forgive me," Caleb eventually admitted to the pastor. The kid hadn't said anything or done anything specific but Caleb knew the cold shoulder routine.

"I do not think it is you he cannot forgive," Jim mused.

"Well I know it's not Johnny," Caleb frowned. He was having a little trouble in the forgiveness department himself.

"I am not sure of the source of what is upsetting Dean. I can only hope he will trust us enough to tell us. But he has always held his emotions, especially his pain, close to his chest." Jim sipped his coffee. "He has been working very diligently on his project." The pastor's voice was that 'deliberately casual' which meant he was leading them somewhere.

"What project?"

"He has been making a rather beautiful knife."

Caleb inspected the side of the Pastor's face. He'd assumed the project, a hand-crafted handle for a silver blade, was just a way to keep busy, Jim obviously thought differently.

"The bloodwood handle is particularly fine." Jim kept his eyes on a squirrel as it raced up a tree, then took a sip of his coffee.

Caleb knew that Dean rarely went to the trouble of sourcing a specific wood. When he did, Dean preferred African blackwood for his own blades, if he could get it. Based on the choice of bloodwood, this was likely a replacement for the one Caleb had broken off in the Succarath's head. His eyes glanced back towards the house.

Between his abilities playing up and Dean's dark mood, perhaps he'd been as distant as he'd felt Dean was being. His own guilt was eating at him. Dean had been hurt and he'd known nothing. He'd failed in his primary duty. If they had not found the boy when they had, it could have been so much worse.

"It can't have been easy for him to get bloodwood," Caleb acknowledged, aware Jim was waiting for him to speak even though the pastor hadn't turned his head. Dean didn't have the option of ordering whatever supplies he wanted, relying mostly on what was freely available.

"I happened to have some on hand, my boy," Jim said, turning to smile at the young man next to him.

Caleb looked away, uncomfortable with the implied praise. Sure, he'd killed that thing in the end but not before it hurt Deuce.

SPNBROAU

Caleb wasn't surprised to find Dean sat with Mac in the library. Mac was reviewing the recent hunters' reports for filing, Dean was sanding the handle he was making.

Perhaps it was the doctor's soothing presence, or perhaps Dean just felt it was the best of a bad bunch, but Dean had sought out Mac the last couple of days. With Sammy away, Caleb avoiding all people, and Jim busy with both church and Guardian duties, Dean's options were pretty much Johnny, the chickens, or Mac. Since he didn't want the poor boy relegated to the barn, Mac had been careful to offer a safe haven, limiting his usually solicitous enquiries after Dean's health and feelings.

Caleb knew that Mac hoped by offering silent support Dean would eventually feel safe enough to open up. His father had insisted that he sensed the frostiness was thawing. Jim was now suggesting the same which meant perhaps it wasn't only wishful thinking and that Dean wasn't as mad at him as he thought.

As he moved into the room vivid images exploded into his synapses causing him to wince. He covered with a smile as his father's eyes lifted with concern from the file before him.

"Wow, she had a nice …" Caleb's eyes flicked briefly to his father, "smile." He forced a grin at Dean.

Dean's return was a glare.

"Stay out of my head, Reaves."

Mac practically felt the door he was hoping would open, slam in his face. He frowned at his son too.

Caleb wasn't going to be chased off though, he moved closer to the teen. "If you don't want me watching the film, you shouldn't play such tempting viewing." His tone was not as venomous as Dean's but not as light as their usual banter.

"Fine!"

He felt Dean think 'at' him and, though he knew he'd regret it, he was picking up the images before he could even consider attempting to put up his shaky blocks.

A clear picture of his mentor's bare butt cheek, peppered with deeply imbedded thorns – that Dean had been required to remove following an unfortunate brownie hunt – seared through his synapses.

"Urgh, Deuce. No one needs to see that!"

"And you wonder why I get nightmares."

Dean threw a smirk at his friend which Caleb caught and returned.

Mac huffed his irritation at the incorrigible duo, just as John stalked into the room.

"Who's the butt of their joke this time?" he asked, seeing the expressions.

Dean and Caleb collapsed into laughter leaving their fathers marvelling at how they could shift from opposing sides to a combined force in a blink.

SPNBROAU

Mac and Caleb were prepping vegetables at the kitchen table. Jim had assigned the task to John, John had delegated to Caleb, and Mac, after a quick glance at the Knight, had offered to help his son. Dean had been assigned the joyful task of trying to get the blood out of the sheets he and Caleb had used, now that their wounds were no longer at risk of further bleeding, and had been scrubbing in the utility room sink for the last half hour.

Mackland gave his son a half-glance trying to resist the temptation, not least because he was sure he wouldn't be given the answer he was seeking, even if Caleb knew.

"I don't know what's still bugging him," Caleb said, not looking at his dad. Dean had relaxed around him physically, no longer tensing every time Caleb approached, but had been utilising his extensive skills in avoidance and redirection whenever Caleb came even close to bringing up the case. Between his shaky abilities and Dean's obvious need for privacy, the psychic hadn't pushed.

"I didn't ask." Mac managed to sound affronted.

Caleb glanced at his dad and raised his eyebrow knowingly. He sighed when Mac continued to maintain his 'innocent' façade. "Getting information out of Deuce isn't exactly a cake-walk at the best of times."

"That's it? That's all you've got?" John challenged, pulling a cold beer from the fridge.

"Damnit John, I'm not your personal baby-monitor. You want to know how your kid's doing, you might want to try asking him occasionally."

John headed out to the barn, muttering under his breath. The Impala had taken a bit of a rough ride of late and he wanted to check the rear axle.

Mac indicated to Caleb to follow him and a few moments later they were ensconced in the Hunter's Tomb.

"Caleb, I know John can be …"

"An ass?"

"Difficult," Mac said carefully. "But you need to stop antagonising him."

"Why should I?"

"Because he is your elder for a start, not to mention the Knight of the Brotherhood to whom you are sworn," Mac snapped. The startled expression on his son's face told him he'd made his point. He softened. "And because Dean made some poor choices that nearly ended very badly for him and you."

"Yeah, well Johnny-boy needs to take some responsibility for that."

"What are you talking about?"

"His whole 'I want my boys to be independent' shtick, which is just his excuse for deserting them whenever the mood takes him. God forbid, they actually really try to do anything independently, like think for themselves. No wonder Deuce is confused."

Mac sighed, he'd never liked the way John would leave the boys for long periods unsupervised, and he didn't like that he had to defend him now but he did. Keeping his eyes on the paperwork before him, he tried to keep his voice even. "There is a big difference between looking after yourself and looking for a hunt. You know that some rules override others, the key one being no hunting alone."

"Unless you're John Winchester." Mac's eyes came up to him, though his face stayed down. "I mean," Caleb persisted. "Wasn't that exactly what he was doing when Deuce disappeared?"

Mac sighed and sat back. "John is not sixteen." He sounded weary more than anything and Caleb felt bad. None of this was his dad's fault.

He threw him an olive branch. "Are you sure?"

Mac's lips twitched as he caught it. "Not always, no."

Caleb flopped down at the table and ran a hand through his hair. "No one likes to enforce the 'no hunting alone' rule more than Deuce."

"Which is what's worrying me. I've been over and over the file," Mac passed over a manilla folder and Caleb opened it. "There doesn't seem to be anything that would account for Dean heading to Fayetteville, let alone choosing to work a case."

"Are you saying that Johnny was right, that Dean was being intentionally reckless?" Caleb focused on his dad's face.

"I doubt Dean thought of it like that but …" Mackland ran a finger over his eyebrow and looked at his son. They both knew he was hoping Caleb had some insight the others were missing. Caleb turned the pages in the file, barely registering the information as he turned from one to the next. He didn't expect to find anything.

"I don't buy it." Caleb shook his head, adamantly. "I mean, there has to be something else, something … shit."

He stopped, staring at a photo that had been slipped between two reports.

"What?" Mac moved closer to see what Caleb was looking at. "The victim?"

Caleb had seen the images in the coroner's report but this was a family snapshot, the girl before she'd been ripped apart.

"Yeah. She's got a nice …" Caleb looked up, giving his father a pained grimace. "Smile."

"Dean knew her?" Mac had paled, he picked up the picture to look more closely.

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, pretty well." There was an expression on his son's face that made Mac blush.

"Exactly how well did he know her?" He said shocked.

"Well enough. His imagination is freaky but the images were too vivid for fantasy." Caleb's eyes had returned to the file, darting from page to page.

Mac made a mental note to have a 'teenaged sons' chat with John. After Caleb, he hoped he might be able to offer some suggestions. Then again, he'd never considered himself very successful in curbing those particular impulses in his son.

"But how did he know she was missing?" Caleb said frustratedly flinging the papers down again.

"The paper," Mac sighed, sitting down with the picture of the young, laughter filled girl still in his hand.

"There wasn't a story about her. I read that paper cover to cover."

"Her friend, Nicci, put a notice in the personals." Mac pulled a page from the file. A photocopy of one of the pages of the paper. There was a small notification at the bottom of the page that had been highlighted. It was asking for Brandi, or anyone who had information on her whereabouts, to call a number.

"So he didn't go there because he thought there was a case, he went looking for a friend?"

"You found her then," John said. They looked up to see him leaning against the door jamb with a smirk on his lips and anguish in his eyes, wiping his grease smeared hands with a rag.

SPNBROAU

NOW: The Lake

Finding no one in sight after putting the sheets in the washing machine, Dean had absconded to the lake before anyone could stop him. Laying in the boat, his eyes could only see sky, his body could only feel the gentle sway of the boat beneath him. Unfortunately, his mind could see so much more, his heart could feel so much more, and even the peace of the lake could not keep it at bay.

At least it was to another warm, almost cloudless day that his memories took him. Dappled sunlight on soft skin. Sweet freckles usually hidden by clothes …

Dean sighed, pleasant memories flickering through his mind.

For days, he'd found himself dwelling on the stolen days he had spent playing hooky to get a far more important education. Stolen hours spent discovering sensations that could wipe his thoughts clean of all the horrors, at least for a short while.

Several schools ago, when Dad was away on a hunt, Sam and Dean had been left for about a month. He'd met Brandi in detention. She's been kind enough to show him around; The bleachers, the supply closet, the viewing point on the edge of town that was popular with the teens. He taught her better ways to sneak out of her house. She taught him to undo a bra while your lips were occupied.

Despite the improved methods of leaving her house unnoticed, Brandi's dad had been waiting up, shotgun in hand, when Dean walked her back home in the earlier hours of one morning. Dean had made a quick getaway and returned to their lodging to find another angry father, also with a gun in hand, waiting for him.

Dad was back from his hunt and they were moving on that night.

It wasn't like he was going to keep in touch, but he remembered her fondly. She was fearless and full of fun.

Then he saw her name in the paper. The town was different but the name pulled at him. When he set out, he convinced himself he was just going to confirm it was not the same girl, that was all. It's not like he was planning to work a case or anything. But when he met with Nicci, Brandi's friend, the face in the picture was the same one he remembered.

He agreed to help try and track her down, trying to convince himself she was just off having fun somewhere.

Then her remains had been found.

SPNBROAU

NOW: The Hunter's Tomb

"You knew?" Caleb accused furiously, staring at the Knight in the doorway. "How long have you known?"

John gave him that enigmatic smile that meant he had no intention of revealing how much he knew, how long he'd known, or how he'd found out. Based on previous experience the Knight might have known all along or have just overheard them speaking and learnt it now. More likely he'd put it together during all those hours he'd been spending going over the case file. He was thorough enough to have reviewed her old school records and realised Dean would have been at the same school at the same time. But he'd never tell and there was no way to know for sure.

"John, this is too much for a boy Dean's age to process," Mac said more reasonably. "I mean have you ever spoken to him about girls?"

"There was no need to." John turned accusing eyes on Caleb and moved forward to stare down at him. "Was there Junior?"

Mac's gaze followed John's and disapproval turned to horror. "Caleb, you didn't."

"Hey, in case neither of you have ever met Deuce, it was nothing that wasn't going to happen anyway." Caleb defended indignantly. "I just figured, when you know a kid is ready to try alcohol, you give him a nice safe beer at home. It's better than risking him stealing a bottle of vodka and getting drunk in a field somewhere." After all, left to his own devices, Dean had ended up in the Peppermint Rabbit. The Red Caboose was a Sunday school picnic by comparison.

John snorted. And Mac's frown made it clear that there would be more discussion on the matter later, though now was not the time.

Jim entered unobtrusively and casually started browsing the bookshelves. He didn't seem surprised or curious about the conversation. But, like John, the Guardian was able to give the impression of omnipotence when he wished.

"This sort of loss would knock any hunter," Mac continued. "I know Dean is very mature in many ways but emotionally … He needs to talk about this."

John scowled at him. "Do you really think sitting around finger painting and singing kumbaya is going to help?"

Mac shook his head. He had no idea where John got his impression of what went on in therapy but the man did paint some strange images of it at times. The doctor had long since given up explaining.

"And we don't need a shrink," John continued, turning his eyes on his protégé. "We've got a nanny."

"What?" Caleb startled. Lots of banter and the VERY occasional chick-flick moment was one thing, this was way out of his league.

"John, you can't expect Caleb to …" Mac tried to spare his son.

"Who else is Dean going to talk to?" John challenged.

"I don't know, maybe his father!" Caleb flung back.

"I'm the last person in the world that should talk to Dean about this," John said definitively.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That 'do and I say, not as I do' isn't always hypocritical!"

Caleb turned away from them, staring unseeingly at the cabinet that held artefacts.

"So go Deuce-whisperer, do your thing and stop him from moping around all Goddamn day," John snapped.

Caleb heard the footsteps as The Knight left the room, no doubt looking for a drink. The psychic felt some sort of communication take place behind him and then heard his father leaving also.

Jim moved and placed his hand on Caleb's shoulder.

"It is a skill we all envy, Johnathan most of all," the pastor offered. It enabled Caleb to turn back around, even if it was only to raise an eyebrow.

"Shame we don't have a douche-whisperer for Johnny-boy, that might be more useful," Caleb mumbled.

There was a flare of something in the pastor's eye that made Caleb feel ashamed. "Johnathan does what he feels he must, which is not necessarily what he wishes to do."

"Sorry. You do pretty well with him, considering what you have to work with."

"Not always well enough, my boy."

SPNBROAU

AN: So next chapter is the last chapter (actaully this time). As always would be great to hear from you ❤️