A/N: Yep, it's been a while. Sorry if you have to reread chapters just to remember what's going on in this story. Still, better to update slowly than never update at all! Thanks for the reviews! I'm going to start leaving my replies at the end of the chapter, just FYI :) Side note - Why is this site so freakin' glitchy? I'm gonna post this story on AO3 just in case y'all have problems reading it on FFnet.
Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters don't belong to me.
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Dean's eyes shot open with the same sensation as getting dunked in cold water. There was no grogginess, only perfect clarity. It was the middle of the night—1:53 a.m. according to the digital clock on the nightstand. The room was dark, only a sliver of moonlight sneaking past the curtains and illuminating a thin portion of the room. Bobby was dead asleep on the opposite bed, unaware of his surroundings for the moment. The A/C rattled occasionally, but that hadn't been the sound that had woken Dean.
Sam was shifting around restlessly, unable to move much due to Dean's arm wrapped around him. Soft whimpers escaped his throat, and there were tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, despite the fact that they were squeezed shut.
In Dean's mind, hearing his baby brother's cries of fear and pain was akin to having his heart ripped right out of his chest. He should've been used to it by now—Sam was plagued with nightmares almost every night—but he'd never get used to Sam's suffering.
Dean sat up on his knees, shaking Sam's shoulder. "Sammy, wake up. C'mon, kiddo," he murmured, attempting to do it the quiet way this time, for Bobby's sake. Unfortunately, that idea flew out the window the next second when Sam let out an ear-splitting wail, thrashing desperately under Dean's hold. Bobby jerked upward instantly, gun in hand as he scoured the room for a threat.
"No! No!" Sam screamed, and it took all of Dean's strength to hold him down so he didn't hurt himself. His nightmares had never been this bad, and Dean was on the edge of panic. "Get away from me! You're not him! You're not him! Daddy! Help me!" He sobbed, his voice cracking from the sheer volume of the plea. Dean's eyes widened in shock, and he thought he might break apart right there. Sam hadn't called their dad by that name since he was five years old.
"Dean!" Bobby exclaimed, flicking on the lamp and jumping to his feet with concern as he debated whether or not to approach.
"Sammy! Wake the hell up! Sam!" Dean shouted, ignoring Bobby without a care as he roughly shook his brother. Screw being gentle—the kid needed to wake up right the hell now!
Sam gasped awake, choking down another scream as his eyes flew open. He automatically shoved Dean's hands away and scrambled back against the headboard, his breathing rapid and shallow. His hair fell messily over his eyes as he whipped his head back and forth in search of the enemy from his nightmare.
"Sammy. Hey. Look at me," Dean coaxed in a much gentler tone. He stayed in place, waiting for his brother to recognize him before he moved closer.
Sam's gaze was distant for another minute, but finally he seemed to register where he was and what had happened. "Dean?" As if the name was a trigger, his expression crumpled in despair, and he broke down crying again.
Dean hurriedly sat next to him and pulled him into a crushing hug, whispering soothing words into Sam's hair as he cradled him against his chest. Sam lifted a hand and let it hover briefly over Dean before shakily grasping his shirt in a tight fist, too distraught to have full function of his limbs.
"I-I can't—" Sam cut himself off with another soul-wrenching sob.
"Breathe, Sammy. That's all you gotta do. Just breathe," Dean instructed softly, squeezing the back of Sam's neck in a comforting manner before carding his finger's through the boy's tousled brown locks. He saw Bobby moving out of the corner of his eye, but luckily the older man was simply sitting back on his bed. Dean was glad Bobby had decided to keep his distance. He wouldn't have reacted well if the hunter had gone near Sam, not right now.
For the next fifteen minutes, Sam cried, Dean coached his breathing, and Bobby observed in silence. Dean didn't need to question his brother about his nightmare. It was obvious that their encounter with the shifter had taken its toll. If Sam wanted to discuss it, he would.
Even after Sam drifted back into an uneasy sleep, Dean didn't move an inch. He simply continued to hold his little brother, as if by doing so he could protect him from all the nightmares. At least monsters could be killed. How did you kill a bad dream?
"I've gotcha, Sammy," he whispered, resting his cheek against Sam's soft hair. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."
Bobby's voice was quiet when he spoke. "He okay?" His concerned gaze flickered between the two boys.
"No," Dean answered honestly.
"That, uh…happen a lot?" Bobby queried hesitantly, not wanting to pry.
Dean closed his eyes briefly, soaking in the feeling of his brother safe in his arms, then he placed a light kiss to the top of Sam's head and looked up at Bobby. "Yeah, um, since our dad died," he admitted, clearing his throat when it suddenly clogged with emotion. Bobby nodded but didn't say anything, allowing Dean the option to elaborate. Dean tried to let the topic go, tried to steel his jaw and bite his tongue, but Bobby looked so willing to listen, and Dean couldn't help himself.
"It's my fault, Bobby. All of it," he blurted out, unable to hide the tremble in his bottom lip. "I keep screwing up. First with Dad, now with…now with Sam." He shook his head in a self-berating manner.
"Caleb said a wendigo got him," Bobby noted sympathetically. "What exactly happened?" The question wasn't demanding. It was more like an offer to open up. Dean knew Bobby wouldn't push the subject if he declined to answer.
"It was supposed to be a simple hunt." Dean's voice was barely loud enough to be heard, and he found himself remembering each and every detail of that night like it happened yesterday. The pain was overwhelming, but he forced himself to continue. He wanted Bobby to know. "Dad killed the wendigo. We thought it was done." The first tears welled up in his eyes as he replayed the scene in his mind. "N-Neither of us saw the second one. It came out of nowhere. Dad got knocked away, and I…" He paused, sucking in a shaky breath. The steady rise and fall of Sam's chest anchored him enough to keep going. "I was too slow." He shrugged helplessly. "Dad distracted it before it could kill me, and instead it…it killed him. There was nothing I could do to stop it." He licked his lips, shaking his head angrily as a single tear managed to escape and roll down his left cheek.
"John's death isn't on you, Dean," Bobby said resolutely. "It was out of your control." He sighed, wavering with indecision before further speaking his mind. "You can't save everyone. That's a lesson every hunter learns at some point."
Dean had heard his dad say those exact words in the past, and he still disagreed with them. Sure, sometimes they were too late to save the civilians. There was no way around that. But they could still save each other.
The corner of his mouth lifted briefly into a smile he didn't truly feel. "I guess I haven't quite learned it yet," he stated, glancing down at his brother.
Bobby followed his gaze. "You're his hero, you know," he claimed.
This time, Dean's smile was genuine. "He's mine, too," he confessed quietly. He was glad Sam was asleep and unable to hear, or he wouldn't say the words aloud. He'd never live it down. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him," he added.
Bobby raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more truth to that statement than Dean let on. Dean noticed the look, but shook his head instead of explaining.
"Story for another time," he decided.
Bobby snorted disbelievingly. "Uh huh. You gonna try to get some more sleep? I can stay up and watch the kid," he offered.
"Nah, I'm fine. I can sleep in the car tomorrow," he said, though immediately afterward he let out a big yawn.
Bobby rolled his eyes at the predictable response. "Alright, ya idjit. Wake me if you need me." Dean nodded, and Bobby finally lay down so he could go back to sleep, tucking his gun under his pillow. Dean reached over to turn off the light, being careful not to jostle Sam.
He really hoped he was making the right decision by choosing to go home with Bobby. It was certainly better than staying in that apartment, but what if things didn't work out? The unknown of it all bothered him. Maybe if their dad had never gotten into that fight with Bobby he would feel differently. Time changed things—changed people. He had no doubt their situation would take some getting used to. It wasn't like before, when their dad would drop them off at Bobby's for weeks at a time. It had felt more like a vacation then. Now it was simply going to be their life.
He made a vow in that moment: If, for some reason, living at Bobby's turned out to be a mistake, then he and Sam would move on. A clean break.
Dean dutifully ignored the small pang in his chest that accompanied the thought.
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It was after midnight when Miguel entered the warehouse where the fights were currently being held. The familiar sounds of fists hitting flesh and sadistic cheers filled his ears, and he had to wade through a sea of overexcited people to get to the table where the bets were placed. That's where he found his cousin waiting for him. Angelo was leaning back leisurely in his chair as he counted cash, a bodyguard on either side of him.
"You're late," he noted casually without looking up. The two men beside him snickered quietly when they caught sight of the teen's bruised and swollen face. Miguel clenched his jaw in annoyance, but instantly regretted it when pain flooded through his jaw.
"I had to stop by Doc's place," he explained reluctantly, his words coming out a bit muffled due to his injuries.
Angelo's gaze flickered upward, and he gave a long-suffering sigh, tossing down the money and leaning forward on his forearms. Miguel shifted side to side as his cousin glanced over him impassively.
"How?" Angelo asked.
Miguel hesitated before answering. "...It was that kid. Dean. The little shit sucker-punched me," he spat, gingerly pressing a couple experimental fingers to his cheek and wincing at the pain that followed.
"Did he now?" Angelo remarked, unimpressed. Miguel recognized the look his cousin was sending him, and quickly tried to redirect the man's anger.
"The punk said he was quitting! You believe that? After everything, he thinks he can just walk out!" Miguel fumed.
Angelo nodded along as he spoke, picking up the cash to resume counting as if the current conversation was hardly enough to hold his interest. "Did you take care of it?" He inquired expectantly.
Miguel faltered, his cheeks heating up. "He sped off in a car before I got the chance," he confessed. "I think he's leaving town, if he's not already gone."
Angelo squinted up at him derisively. "So he quits, punches you, then leaves town?" He recapped. "You got any good news for me, Miguel?" He sneered.
Miguel flinched at the icy edge to his voice. "I can deal with him!" He offered. "Just give me some guys and—"
Angelo had given his two bodyguards a slight nod of the head when Miguel began to speak, and the teen grunted as one of them suddenly walked around the table and launched a fist into his gut mid-sentence. The breath flew out of him, and he crumpled to the floor, naturally curling his body into the fetal position to deflect any more oncoming blows.
Angelo abandoned his task and came over to crouch next to him, cradling the back of his head in a mockingly affectionate gesture. "You had your chance, cousin," he murmured lowly. "You failed. You embarrassed me. And you know how I feel about being embarrassed," he stated, his voice falling to a near-whisper.
Miguel gasped in a haggard breath, shaking his head emphatically. "N-No, I can…I can make it up to you!" He begged.
Angelo smoothed a hand through his hair in a condescending manner before standing to his feet. "You know what to do, boys," he announced, turning away with a bored expression. He collapsed back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table as his men started in on Miguel. Each kick or punch elicited a plea or some other pathetic attempt from the teenager to get them to stop.
Angelo folded his hands in his lap, considering what his cousin had told him. Dean broke the rules. He'd have to pay for that. No exceptions. But if he'd already left town, there wasn't much Angelo could do about it.
However, if the kid ever made the mistake of returning, he would regret it. Angelo would make sure of that personally.
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Sam let his hand glide up and down with the wind as he watched the scenery pass by, enjoying the sight of the city fading into the distance. He hadn't inhaled such clean air for a year, nor looked upon anything besides pavement and brick. Being back on the road felt like returning home. The rumble of the Impala's engine, the smell of leather, and the low notes of AC/DC reaching his ears were comforts he'd been deprived of since arriving in Philadelphia. If he closed his eyes, he could even picture his dad in the driver's seat.
For that reason alone, he kept his eyes wide open and focused on anything else. He didn't need a repeat of last night.
They ran over an errant pothole, small enough to not rouse Dean from his slumber in the passenger seat but large enough to send a shock of pain through Sam's ankle. He bit his lip and squeezed his open hand into a fist, determined not to wake Dean again. One quiet groan from Sam and the older boy would be up in arms.
"You okay back there, kid?" Bobby asked, meeting Sam's gaze in the rearview mirror. Sam had forgotten how perceptive the experienced hunter was, and still found himself shocked into silence when he was called out.
"Y-Yeah. I'm good," he replied in an embarrassingly squeaky voice.
"I'm not John, you know. You don't have to downplay the pain," Bobby pointed out softly, clearly wary of bringing up John in conversation.
Sam couldn't help releasing an amused snort. He never got to downplay the pain. Dean saw right through him every time. Yet when Sam attempted to get a full report of his brother's injuries, Dean deflected the topic. Not exactly fair.
"Really, Uncle Bobby, I'm okay. I can deal with a sprained ankle," he assured. Bobby nodded in acquiescence. Sam cast multiple glances at him from the corner of his eye, trying not to let on that he was staring. He still wasn't completely over the fact that Bobby was even there in front of him, let alone driving them back to Singer Salvage.
"Sam?" Bobby spoke up, lifting a curious eyebrow. "Got something on your mind?"
Sam's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't bring himself to shake his head. He peeked over the seat, making sure Dean was well and truly asleep. His brother was leaning against the window, still looking pretty beat up from his fight with the shifter, but his expression was perfectly relaxed. Sam was in the clear.
"Why, um…why did Dean agree to go with you? Seemed kinda sudden…" He picked at a stray piece of thread on his jeans, unable to hold Bobby's gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.
Bobby considered the question thoughtfully, as if he himself wasn't quite sure what had convinced Dean. "I guess…he just needed to know he could trust me," he answered carefully.
"Can he?" Sam blurted out unintentionally, wincing as soon as the words were out.
Bobby merely chuckled. "Yes. Both of you can trust me. Promise. I only wanna help, kiddo," he murmured, focusing on the road as traffic grew a bit heavier.
Sam turned to look out the window again, letting the hope bloom in his chest. If Dean believed Bobby, then he could, too. A better life might be waiting for them in Sioux Falls, after all.
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Dean shot up in his seat, his right hand automatically flying toward the door handle while his other felt for the gun in his waistband. Just as a small hand landed on his shoulder in an effort to calm him, his brain registered his surroundings. He was in the Impala, cruising down some highway. Same as it used to be, except Bobby was the one driving.
"Sammy?" He said without thinking, turning to find his brother's face closer than he'd expected.
Sam tried to smile, but it died pretty quickly. "Hey. You okay? I think you were having a bad dream…" He trailed off, sneaking a glance at Bobby to see if the man was paying attention. Bobby was dutifully ignoring both of them, wanting them to have as much privacy as possible in such tight quarters.
"I'm fine," Dean lied without hesitation, not wanting to worry his brother. He didn't really remember the dream, but he knew it hadn't been pleasant. Nothing he wasn't used to by now.
Sam pressed his lips together, clearly intending to argue the less-than-heartfelt response, but thankfully decided to let it go. Dean avoided his gaze, knowing he'd only see wide, imploring eyes.
"Where are we?" He cleared his throat, shifting to get more comfortable. The pain in his ribs made itself known once again, having been irritated by the awkward way he'd been positioned. He barely managed to control his grimace; luckily, neither Bobby nor his brother noticed.
"Just passed Chicago," Bobby answered smoothly, happy to oblige the change of topic.
Dean blinked in surprise. "I slept that long?" He exclaimed, taking another look outside in disbelief. It was indeed sunset. He'd missed a whole day.
"You needed the rest," Bobby commented quietly. In a louder voice, he continued, "We're stopping at a motel in the next town. Caleb's ahead of us, so he should have a couple rooms ready."
The corner of Dean's mouth quirked up. "Don't tell me you've been driving the speed limit this whole time."
"There's nothing wrong with following the law from time to time," Bobby said wryly.
"I agree!" Sam piped up from the back. Dean rolled his eyes while Bobby winked at Sam through the rearview mirror.
"See? It's two against one," the older hunter chuckled.
"Sammy's a goody-two-shoes. That's why he'll never get to drive when he's older. It'll take us a million years to get anywhere with his granny speeds," Dean scoffed.
"Nuh-uh!" Sam whined, sounding every bit the child that he was. "I've broken the law plenty!" He defended, but his face immediately morphed into a regretful expression when he realized what he'd said. "I mean…when I had to…" He amended in a softer tone.
Dean sighed internally, wishing his brother didn't take such inconsequential things to heart. Just because their lifestyle required a bit of rule-bending didn't mean their choices were wrong. The kid had never seen it that way, though. He'd nearly balked when their father had insisted on teaching them how to pick locks.
"How's your ankle?" Dean questioned, not letting his brother dwell on the sore subject.
Sam shrugged, looking back out the window at the passing fields and scattered buildings. "I don't really notice it if I don't move," he remarked casually.
"Then it's bed rest for you," Dean declared pointedly.
Sam pouted, resting his chin on the back of the seat next to Dean's head. "But that's boring!" He complained.
Dean waved him off, refusing to turn around lest he be bombarded with the powerful puppy eyes he knew Sam was unleashing on him. "No arguments, Sammy. Not about this," he pressed. Bobby glanced at them out of the corner of his eye with a slightly amused curve of his lip.
"Hmph." Sam frowned and slumped back in his seat, crossing his arms. "Stupid shifter," he muttered.
Dean couldn't agree with him more on that point.
"Was the shifter the first monster you've had to deal with since…since you went to Philadelphia?" Bobby asked curiously, vigilant not to mention John.
"The first supernatural monster, yeah," Dean answered. Bobby's eyebrows furrowed in concern at the implication.
"Dean?" He hedged nervously.
The older boy's jaw worked as he stared out the window. "It's been a long year, Bobby," he murmured, clearly not willing to delve into the details right then.
Bobby gripped the steering wheel tightly, his gaze flickering between both boys. He wanted to know exactly what that statement meant, but he didn't have that level of trust with them yet. In time, he hoped he'd learn everything they'd gone through since John's death. It didn't take a genius to see the changes in each of them. Dean was cold, overprotective in a borderline unhealthy manner, and had walls built as high as the clouds. And Sam… He seemed more afraid of the world than ever, and there was a sadness that clung to him even when he smiled. Not to mention the nightmares…God, the nightmares…
It had been nearly impossible for Bobby to keep his distance the previous night. He wasn't much for physical comfort, but he would've done anything to help Sam in those tense moments. He only refrained because he knew Dean would've never allowed him to approach his little brother, not when the kid was in such a vulnerable state.
The rest of the drive was silent until they made it to the motel. Caleb was waiting outside the room, sitting on a bench with his forearms resting on his knees. When he heard them pull into the parking lot, he stood and stretched his arms over his head.
"Took long enough, didn't you, old man?" He greeted with a playful smirk as Bobby got out of the car and eased the door shut behind him.
"Bite me," Bobby grumbled, walking a few feet over to him while Dean helped Sam.
"I got rooms 106 and 107. Take your pick," Caleb offered, then raised his voice so the boys could hear him. "I also picked up some dinner for all of us. It's in the room," he said, pointing at the door behind him. "I even got one of those healthy wrap things that Sam likes," he added, scratching the back of his head and biting his lip.
Sam's crutches clacked against the pavement as he approached, but he paused once he made it onto the sidewalk, flashing Caleb a bright grin. "Really? I haven't had one of those in forever! Thanks Caleb!" He beamed.
Dean simply nodded in acknowledgement, sticking his hands in his pockets. He was torn between feeling grateful that his brother would finally get to eat something he actually enjoyed and being jealous about the look Sam was currently giving Caleb—like the guy was some kind of saint.
Bobby took notice of Dean's sour expression and quickly spoke up, turning his attention to Sam. "C'mon, squirt. Let's go inside and eat. We'll get the bags later." Caleb handed him the keycard and he opened the door, waving for both boys to follow. Sam pushed forward, almost losing his balance in his haste to get to his meal. Dean snorted at his enthusiasm, trailing behind a bit more slowly.
When Caleb held out a hand at the last second to block his path, he sent the man a withering glare, fury pulsing through his veins. No one was allowed to stand between him and Sam. Ever.
Dean didn't even have to say anything before Caleb was raising his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I just…I wanna talk to you for a second," he explained. "Alone."
"No." Dean growled, once again trying to step into the room. This time Caleb grabbed his sleeve and gave him a pleading look.
"Please? Five minutes. That's all I'm asking for here, man," he begged, not reacting when Dean yanked his arm out of the hunter's loose grip. Sam caught onto the fact that his brother wasn't behind him anymore, and he turned away from the table where Bobby was already sitting down.
"Dean?" He made as if to return to the older boy's side, but Bobby tapped the table to get his attention.
"You need to rest that ankle," he advised gruffly, pulling out the various food items and setting them on the tabletop. "Sit."
Sam hesitated, his anxiety warring with his respect for authority. After a few seconds of tense consideration, he lowered himself into the nearest chair, propping his crutches up against the wall. His gaze remained on the two still having a standoff in the doorway, though.
"I'm not leaving Sam alone," Dean argued.
"What am I, chopped liver?" Bobby cut in. "I'll keep an eye on the kid."
Dean wanted to protest. The last time he left his brother with someone, he was kidnapped. Bobby wasn't the shifter, but the fear was still there. However, he'd just told Bobby he trusted him. He didn't want it to seem like he'd been lying…
With a frustrated sigh, he jerked his head toward the bench Caleb had been sitting on when they arrived. "Fine. Five minutes, that's it," he emphasized, reaching for the door knob. To Sam, he added, "Yell if you need me, okay?"
"Okay," Sam agreed quietly, scuffing at the carpet gently with his foot.
Dean gave him one last once-over, then shut the door. Caleb dipped his head in thanks, and rubbed his hands on his jeans as he sat down. The sun was almost below the horizon, the last rays of light taking all the warmth with them. It wasn't terribly cold, but Dean definitely wished he still had his jacket. He'd left it behind at Anne's store and had forgotten about it completely until now.
When Caleb merely stared at his folded hands pensively instead of speaking, Dean huffed in annoyance. "I'm not really feeling the urgency for this discussion," he remarked dryly, slumping onto the opposite end of the bench.
Caleb started, then shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. I, uh…was thinking about something. Doesn't matter. Mind if I ask you a question?" Dean shrugged noncommittally in response, and Caleb decided to take that as a cue to continue. "Did your dad ever tell you how I got into hunting?" He wondered.
Dean sat up straighter, his eyebrows scrunching together at the mention of his father. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Despite his desire to get back to his brother, his interest was piqued. Thinking back on it, his father hadn't told him much about Caleb's past at all, just that he had been thrust into the life when he was sixteen.
"No," Dean murmured, leaning back so he could properly see Caleb's face.
Caleb nodded slowly, staring off into the distance as he twisted his hands together restlessly. "It's not something I tell a lot of people. Your dad was different, though. I trusted him with my life," he said reminiscently, the corner of his mouth lifting for a brief moment. Dean waited, curious as to where the conversation was going.
The older hunter breathed in deeply. "When I was seven, my parents died," he confessed. Dean's eyes widened, but he remained silent, not wanting to interrupt. "Nothing supernatural. Car crash," Caleb elaborated stiffly, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the memory. "I was just a little kid, but…the second I woke up in that hospital bed, I knew. I knew my parents were gone, and I was alone." His tone had a matter-of-fact edge, like he was simply recalling a historical event and not a personal tragedy. Dean gulped, dropping his gaze.
"Just like that—" Caleb snapped his fingers, the abrupt noise cutting through the quiet air— "...My life was completely upended. The CPS agents swooped in, telling me all about the next steps. Where I would be staying, who my caseworker was, when I would have to appear in court. It's like I was an object. It was hours before I even got the official statement about what happened to my parents." He pressed his lips together so tightly that they turned white, then he let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry," Dean muttered, simultaneously sympathetic and uncomfortable. He wasn't great when emotions were involved. That was more Sammy's realm of expertise.
Caleb waved him off, dragging a hand over his mouth. "Nah, it's…it's okay. That was a long time ago, you know? It doesn't…" The words got caught in his throat, and he cleared it roughly. "Anyway, after that, I bounced around from foster home to foster home, and in between I stayed in group homes. Those were the worst. If you were a little kid, you got bullied by the big kids. And if you were a big kid, you got bullied by the adults." He snorted disdainfully. "Those places…they'll tear away at you until there's nothing left, until you're the one that's making everyone else's life miserable."
Dean lightly punched his thigh in encouragement. "You're not like that, though. You help people," he pointed out.
"I wasn't always that way," he objected regretfully. "I was angry. Angry about my parents' death, angry about being moved around constantly, angry at the people around me, just…pissed at the world."
Dean chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "How did you get past it?" He wondered, hearing the desperation leaking into his voice.
Caleb smiled, and Dean could tell he was seeing images of his past. "I had help from a friend," he replied vaguely. When he noticed Dean's confused expression, his smile dropped away. "Which leads me to how I got into hunting in the first place," he said in a more somber tone.
"You were sixteen, right? That's what Dad told me."
"Yeah," Caleb confirmed. "I was in another foster home. It was a good one. Some of the previous ones I'd been in…weren't so good…" Dean raised an eyebrow, but the hunter didn't elaborate. "Their names were Fiona and David. They were on the older side, so they were more than happy to take in a teenager. I was a brat at first," he chuckled. "They probably should've thrown my ass out after that first day, but they didn't. They were patient, and they saw right through my bullshit. I needed that. I needed to face up to myself. They helped me out of the dark hole I'd been in since my parents died." His eyes didn't water, but Dean could feel the deep sadness exuding from him. There was only one way this story was ending.
"It was a werewolf that killed them," Caleb whispered, biting his tongue briefly to stop the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "I think it was drawn in by the cows—Fiona and David lived on a farm—and it just couldn't resist when it found them instead," he spat bitterly, clenching one of his fists. "There was nothing I could do but stand there and—" He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, attempting to reign in his rage. Dean could relate.
"How'd you get away?" He asked softly, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.
"A hunter saved me," Caleb answered after taking a moment to calm down.
"Not my dad?" Dean frowned, the question more of a statement. His dad would've told him if that had been the case.
Caleb shook his head. "No, it was a different hunter. His name was Duke. He was a crotchety old army vet," he described with an amused huff. "Kinda like Bobby, but even grumpier if you can believe it."
"I didn't think that was possible," Dean joked, and they both shared a grin.
"Duke took me in after…well, you know. Taught me most of what I know about hunting. He gave me a purpose beyond revenge, helped me stay on track. Saved my life in more ways than one," Caleb admitted. "He was the one who introduced me to Bobby, who, as you know, introduced me to your dad."
Dean hesitated, but his curiosity won out. "Is Duke…did he die?"
"...Yeah. On the job. But he had more years than most hunters get." Caleb shrugged away the pain of losing his teacher slash father figure. He'd had plenty of good years with the man, and saw no reason to dwell on his death. He'd gone out fighting. That's all any hunter could ask for.
Caleb turned so he was facing the teen, his gaze intense and hopeful. "Dean, I'm telling you all this because I trust you, and I know what you're going through," he insisted. Dean felt a wash of guilt run through him, but also a bit of relief. It was nice to have someone he could talk to who would understand his history of loss and pain.
Caleb pressed on determinedly. "When I thought of separating you and Sam last year, it was because I didn't want either of you ending up in the system. I was wrong, obviously," he corrected quickly, sensing the boy's wariness returning with his words. "The two of you belong together. I see that now. Hell, I saw it then, I just…I didn't want you to go through the same shit I did."
Dean supposed he could see Caleb's point, but the fear stubbornly lingered. "That makes sense, Caleb. Really, it does. But…" He paused, searching for the right words. "You threatened my whole world that night," he said seriously. "From the moment my dad died, all I had was Sammy. He's everything. My reason for breathing, my reason for fighting. That life you and Jim saw for us? It's not worth a damn if Sam and I aren't together." He didn't care how sappy he sounded. The truth was the truth, and Caleb needed to be fully aware of where he stood.
Caleb was looking back at him with wide eyes, but he nodded fiercely at the end of Dean's speech. "I understand, Dean. You'll never have to worry about that again, not from me or Jim and especially not Bobby. We're with you, one hundred percent," he declared.
Dean breathed out in relief. "I know. It's really good to have you guys back," he added with a grateful smile.
Caleb placed a tentative hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly when the boy didn't move away. "Same here. I still can't believe we found you two, though," he commented, standing up and offering Dean his hand.
The young hunter let himself be pulled to his feet, anxious to see his brother again now that their conversation was pretty much finished. "You and Bobby are damn good hunters," he opined with a shrug. "Certainly saved my dad's ass more than once. Oh, hey," he started, halting right before the door and spinning back around. "Did you mean what you said before? About taking me on hunts?" He asked eagerly.
"Absolutely, sport," Caleb assured him with an easy grin. "There's still a thing or two you can learn. Your dad taught me quite a bit as well, you know. I'd be more than happy to share the knowledge," he offered.
"Hell yeah!" Dean exclaimed. He knew Sam had his reservations, but he was sure the kid would come around to it once Dean proved he could handle himself. And whatever he learned, he'd make sure to pass on to his brother so that one day they could fight side by side.
"Great. Now let's get inside before Bobby decides to eat our food," Caleb suggested.
"He better not!" Dean retorted even as he whipped open the door, Caleb's laughter following him into the room.
Their talk had definitely repaired most of the damage to their friendship, and Dean felt all the lighter for it.
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Long Live BRUCAS - You're right, it did break the ice a bit. I didn't intend that when I wrote it, but it was a happy consequence lol.
Trucklady53 - Happy to hear from you again! I also love protective, kickass Dean (obviously, or I wouldn't write him that way, right? Lol.) Many more flashbacks to come.
Kathy - Thanks for reviewing every chapter! Always nice to see your name pop up! And yes, they did indeed get away, thankfully. Dean needs to think before he acts, that's for sure. But will he listen to me? Ehhh, probably not ;)
2farfrmTexas - Oh, fallout there shall be. Just not anytime soon.
EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester - I feel like you're my own personal cheerleader for this story haha :)) Thanks for another review! You always make me laugh reading them!
Guest - Your review is much appreciated! And yep, I think we've all had brain failures at some point in our lives.
poohbear123 - Thanks so much! Glad you like it!
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