Hey! It only took a month to write this one!
Got a lot going on as usual. I miss the days when I used to have hours to do this stuff lol.
Please enjoy :)
~TH~
Caleb tried to ignore the gnawing fear that something was really wrong. He hadn't been able to read Dean for awhile. He couldn't go to Mac about this because he knew Mac would just get onto him for trying to read Dean at all. And he wasn't pushing in Dean's head. As tempting as it was, he wouldn't risk it. But normally he could at least glean off of Dean's very presence. But his dad wouldn't see it that way.
The Farm was a weird place to be right now.
Jim acted like everything was normal. Mac acted like if he breathed too hard Dean would spontaneously combust. Sam was practically non-existent. He was either in his room or the barn. When he did join the living he barely spoke and barely ate And Dean? Dean ranged from dangerously depressed to the most hyperactive Caleb had seen him in years.
Mac said this was normal. A part of the healing process. Part of withdrawal from the psychic presence. Possibly even a trauma reduced regression.
Mood swings were manageable. They'd dealt with worse.
And, yeah, sure, Caleb could handle them. He'd dealt with a moody Deuce more than anyone else. Even a ten year old Dean was broody, before the true depression set in during the later teen years.
But something was wrong.
This wasn't normal.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
And it wasn't just when Dean was around.
The entire house emanated a dark feeling.
If Caleb didn't know better he'd think there was an unholy presence in the house. Ghost, demon, something.
But that wasn't possible.
And there was nothing he could do.
Caleb reached for his phone, hoping John had called. The only response he received was a single flash before a black screen took over.
The drawer was open before he remembered that he was in John's room, not his own.
Speaking of John, the charger that he used when he traveled was in the truck. And since John still hadn't elected to show his face, he didn't have access to it.
Caleb offered a quick glance around the room. Unsurprisingly, he didn't find what he was looking for. John always left as little as possible. Deep down Caleb wondered if it was so that John never had to return. If ever he decided to cut off contact, there would be no needed item at the Farm. But that was a thought for another day.
He'd have to get the charger out of his room. Caleb had no problem with Dean staying in his room. He suspected that it was a common occurrence as Dean aged and Caleb was around less. And while Dean did deserve to have privacy, Caleb needed his stuff.
The sound of knuckles hitting the door seemed oddly loud in the house. Everyone was around, but the silence was so out of character for a place usually so lively. After a second knock with no answer, he pushed the door open.
"Dean?" He announced himself and was surprised to find the room empty. Deciding to use it to his advantage, Caleb went straight to the drawer. It was a strange conglomeration between his and Dean's things. Just as he found the charger, his heart stopped. There was a small container he didn't recognize. It rattled as he picked it up. Pills. Tiny white pills.
Caleb wrapped his hand around the container, clenching his hand. It began to shake.
It explained so much. He hated that it caused such clarity, but it did.
It wasn't that Dean was coming off a psychic withdrawal, it was that Dean was currently having a reaction to a physical drug.
He felt unable to move, just staring at the bottle and wishing that he had caught on sooner, but hating that he had caught it at all.
~SPN~
A scheduled life was a good life. At least that was his dad's philosophy. But Dean doubted that this was what he meant.
He'd waited too long.
The withdrawals were getting worse.
He hated that word.
Withdrawals.
Hated what it meant. Hated that it was apart of his life now. That it probably would be forever
But what he hated most was that his supply was running out. He was down to a week. He'd gotten lucky two have two weeks to start with.
But this wasn't something he could just go buy.
Whiteman was dead. The Enetee and all of its magic was gone.
And soon all of its relief would be gone too.
Maybe there was some sort of street substitute?
But then Damien would definitely kill him.
Assuming he found out.
And Caleb could never find out.
Dean had been able to keep it hidden. Well the drugs themselves. Damien definitely suspected something was up. But Mac had all of these psychological reasons for it. He never thought he'd be thankful for Mac's doctor talk.
But the only way to assure that his secret was never found out was to run.
Okay.
Okay he needed to stop.
He shouldn't be thinking like that.
There was no reason to run.
He wanted to be here. He didn't want to be alone again. That's what got him into this mess to begin with.
And there was no one to run to. The Entetee was dead.
The only reason he was thinking like this was because he was running out of the pills and he hadn't taken one in awhile.
He'd be fine.
Dean pushed himself up from where he'd been sitting several feet awaIt way from the water.
It normally brought him such peace but ever since he'd gotten back it'd brought him anything but that peace he craved. And yet he was still drawn to it. But he also didn't want to get too close to it. It was a strange song a dance his mind insisted on playing.
In the house, Jim was in the kitchen, but he wasn't humming like he often did. Mac sat reading a book on the couch. He glanced up when Dean walked in, gave a sad smile, and went back to reading. The whole house felt weird. It felt off.
But it was probably just him.
As far as he knew no one else in the house was popping pills to make the voices in their heads go away.
As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed that his bedroom door was open. A moment of panic overtook him. Surely he didn't leave it open? He wasn't that stupid.
It wasn't until he reached the door that he stopped, panic beginning to overwhelm him.
Caleb was in there, standing beside Dean's bed, his back turned to the door. "What are you doing?" The voice came out almost numb, but he assumed some of the fear had to have leaked through.
Caleb didn't move for a moment and when he did it was slow. Almost as if it pained him to turn and look at his best friend. "What is this?" And the voice that said it was not his friend. At least not in the normal sense. It was low. Dark. Angry in a way that had never been directed at Dean.
His heart did… something at that. Whether it stopped beating or sped up he was too numb to tell. "What are you even doing?" The numbness started to drift away, replaced by a burning hot rage that seemed to explode out of him in one phrase. "You have no right to be in here!"
Caleb's eyes flashed. "It's still my room, Dean."
"But-"
"No." There was a certainty there. In a lot of ways it reminded him of his dad when he got angry. "I lent you the room to recover. The room is still mind and I still own the things inside of the room. I have every right to come get my own things. But that's not what we're talking about here. What. Is. This."
Defensiveness won out over fear. "None of your business." Dean made a swipe at the container but Caleb pulled it back. It made him feel like a child being toyed with. Maybe he'd been too quick to dismiss his running away idea. But not until he got back those pills. "Give them to me!"
"No. What are they and how long have you been taking them?"
"They're mine. And if you care about your stupid room more than me then maybe I should find somewhere else to live. Now give them back!"
"No."
"They're not hurting anybody!
"Not hurting anybody? Because your mood swings and outbursts are completely healthy!" The quiet fury and disappointment was beginning to crack. Good. This was the type of angry Caleb that Dean knew how to work with. If only he could get his own emotions under control.
"You've called me moody since I was ten years old so that argument doesn't hold much wait Damion. Now give them back. I need them." And he hated how much he did. How just looking at them made him feel a burst of energy. How he was shaking now. How he wanted them more than he wanted anything.
"That's why you keep disappearing. And getting sick. It's withdrawals." And the voice wasn't angry, it devastated. Hurting. Concerned. "How addicted are you?"
"I promise." Dean attempted to keep his voice even. "I'm fine. Just give them to me."
"You're almost out."
"Then it won't hurt to give them back. Please."
"Where are you getting them?"
Dean didn't answer. Truthfully from this point he didn't know.
"Fine." Caleb growled, like a flip had been switched. And he wanted to call out Dean's mood swings.
Any humor in the situation disappeared when Caleb began opening the container.
"What are you doing?!"
"Finding out what they are." The lid popped open and he tipped it over.
"No! Don't!" If Caleb took them, there would be no turning back. He would be hooked. Even without the Entetee alive he knew it would be an immediate change. That's how they worked. It's what they did to him. And there was already so few. If Caleb took even one that one be one more day that he'd have to go without. And if Caleb did become addicted then… Yes they made him feel better. Yes he wanted them. But he knew there were side effects. He knew that they hurt as much as they helped. And he didn't think they would ever stop hurting him but he could keep it from happening to Caleb.
"Then tell me what it is."
Tears were beginning to make their way to Dean's eyes. He felt so frustrated and angry and confused. "It's from the Entetee alright!" he finally broke. "They connect you to him. I don't understand it all and I never really asked him to explain. I just know they work. They did what he said they would. And they-they help. They do." Was he trying to convince himself or Caleb?
"Deuce-"
"Sacrifices are like… like a payment for them. The loyalty comes later, because you need them. And yeah you want to because he takes care of you. It's because you feel like you'll die without them. A little blood for a week's worth of.. Of being okay? Not even a question." Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, almost vibrating. It felt like he was going to combust. He needed one of those pills or he may actually die.
"Why didn't you tell us?" There was that broken tone again.
"Because I knew you would do this. Get all worried. Try to make me stop. Why should I? They make me happy, isn't that enough?" He needed to get a grip. He was losing control.
"Deuce…" Pleading. He hated the pleading. It was making him angry. He needed him to stop. Yell. Do something. But not… this. "You're not happy."
"How would you know?! You're not me!"
"No, but I can see you. I see what it does to you. I've spent all week trying to figure out what I could do. How I could help. I know I should have noticed sooner but-"
"Don't! Don't do this! It's none of your business!"
"This isn't a 'forget about it and move on' thing Dean! This is serious!"
The tepid control he held over his emotions snapped. "You just don't want me to be happy!"
Apparently so did Caleb's. "Don't you understand! I'm doing this because I want you to be happy!"
"'Doing this'?! What exactly are you doing? What do you even expect to do? You can't stop me! You don't own me Caleb!"
"You're right. I don't. But don't think you own yourself either! You're owned by the Entetee and these." He poured the pills back into the container, tightening the lid. "They own you. You're attempt to find freedom was an epic fail."
"Shut up." Despite the snarl, Dean knew it was true. He didn't want to hear it or admit it, but it was true.
"You have to stop."
"You can't make me."
Caleb set his jaw, "Don't force me to try."
Crossing his arms, Dean let out a mocking laugh. "Good luck."
After a moment of silence, Caleb looked him dead in the eyes before calling out, "Dad!"
~TH~
A bit more of a cliffhanger this time. What do you think of Caleb's words/actions? Dean's? How do you think Mac will respond?
Would love to hear your thoughts!
I'm in need of some general encouragement lol.
I'm probably going to add one or two more chapters than thirty but I'll keep you updated. I just don't want you to think we're as close to the finish as it currently says. At most it should be 35 but we'll see lol.
Lemme know what you think!
Much love and God bless,
Jamie
