Wings of Solitude
John Winchester sat in the dark of the motel room staring down at the lore from the last hunt that was lying on the table in front him. He had run out of whiskey hours ago and was nursing the last beer left in the room. He flinched at the tapping on the door and lifted his head slightly.
"It's open."
He heard the door open and close and still made no move to look up or stand, he simply listened as someone sat across from him and saw a silver ringed hand pull the beer out from in front of him.
"Stupid move leaving your door unlocked, John." Caleb said.
"Don't talk down to me Reaves or do you forget who taught you everything you know?"
Caleb scoffed.
"I knew the don't let strangers in rule long before I met you."
John rubbed his hand over his day old scruff and sighed.
"This isn't a home."
Caleb looked at his mentor's bleak face. He didn't know what to say to that. Of course, this dirty run-down motel room wasn't a home. None of the hundreds of places the Winchester's had ever stayed had ever come close to being a home, but looking at John now, it was as if he was just now realizing it. But Caleb wasn't here for this discussion, this was merely a pit stop.
"How is he?" Caleb asked.
John shrugged and finally looked up at the younger man's face.
"He signed himself out AMA this morning, came back here crashed out for a few hours. Took off before I woke up. He's avoiding me."
"I can't say I really blame him. You have never been notoriously good with his feelings."
John laughed coldly.
"Right, cause you are Mr. Share n Care?"
It was true, Caleb knew he had inherited his mentors "No chick flick moments" attitude, especially when it came to his own feelings.
"You know there are exceptions to every rule John, and I will bend a lot for Deuce."
"You were always a good nanny to them—him..."
Caleb chose to ignore the slip up; he wasn't really interested in bringing the younger Winchester into this conversation. He was safe in California. This was about Dean. Caleb leaned forward and met John's eye.
"I saw it before you called. Tell me that for once, my vision was wrong. Tell me that's not what happened."
"It's not what you think Caleb. He's fine, it was the ghost. It was just a hunt that got out of control. It's just what this spirit does."
Caleb took a calming breath before standing up and heading towards the door.
"I warned you something was wrong months ago, that he was off. The ghost might have been the nail in the coffin, but this has been on his mind for a while."
"You don't know that."
"Read the lore again John, and don't blame him for this either."
John watched as Caleb opened the door.
"Where you going?" John asked as if he didn't know.
Caleb closed his eyes and swallowed. He thought back to happier days, childhood laughter and a single sentence Sam had once uttered to him as a young child. The kid may be gone now, but sometimes Caleb could hear him clear as a bell. He looked back at John with steely eyes.
"I'm gonna do what I always do. I'm gonna watch out for Dean."
John looked back down at lore book in front him and reread the passage that had been bothering him all night.
"Spirits such as these feed specifically on the darkness within the soul, the desperation and sadness of its victims. It has been said that once it has chosen its victim it will bring all the sadness of the person to the surface to feed itself. This nearly always leads to the victim's death by..."
John slammed the book slot. He couldn't read it again. He downed the rest of his beer before laying down in his bed, trying and failing to fall into a restless sleep.
It didn't take long for Caleb to find Dean. Having a psychic connection to your best friend can be helpful at times. Caleb was surprised to find him out in a field instead of at a bar though. He pulled his jeep up beside the Impala and cut the engine, for a moment he just watched his friend. Dean showed no sign of acknowledgement, just continued to stare up at the dark sky.
Caleb walked over and leaned against the grill of the Impala taking his own beer out of the green cooler by the passenger side tire. He popped the lid off with his ring and took a sip.
"You drunk?"
Dean shook his head.
"How many have you had?"
Dean raised two fingers in the air.
Caleb knocked his shoulder against Dean's legs in irritation.
"Hey, no mute boy bullshit."
Dean sighed and finally looked over at Caleb.
"There is nothing wrong with wanting some solitude... and maybe even some quiet Damien. Doesn't mean I am losing it. I'm fine."
Caleb knew that Dean didn't want to talk to him about what was going on, but after this last vision and the knowledge of what had happened on the hunt, he couldn't continue to let this slide.
"You know... it's okay if you aren't you know?"
"What do you mean?"
Caleb shrugged and kicked his biker boot into the grass in front of him.
"All I am saying is anything you want to say? It won't go any further than here. Just a secret between you, me and the night sky."
Dean snorted.
"Poetic Damien... and honestly? A little gay."
Caleb laughed softly.
"I know you are notoriously jealous of my rugged manliness. All I am saying is I'm willing to act like a girl for a few minutes for you brother."
Dean's throat clicked as he sat up.
"The things you'll do for little brothers, right Damien?"
"Yeah..."
It had been a year since Sam had left them, but his ghost still hung around haunting them, and it wasn't as easy as a salt and burn to rid themselves of him.
"It isn't what you think." Dean whispered.
"Doesn't make me worry any less Deuce, I had to watch it happen in technicolor and with full surround sound."
"I couldn't make it stop. She got her claws into me, and I felt like I would never be happy again."
"That was her intention, but you know it isn't that simple."
Dean swallowed and looked at Caleb with anger.
"You don't know what you are talking about!"
"Actually, yes, I do. You honestly think that the thought never crossed my mind? After all the shit that has happened in my life. You really think I didn't at least think about it?"
"What are you talking about Damien?"
"Come on man, I've been there. You don't want to talk to your Dad about it? Fine. But stop hiding from me."
"I am not suicidal!" Dean yelled.
Both men were quiet, the word finally out in the open. Caleb walked up and stood in front of Dean making sure he couldn't run.
"I know that Deuce... but more and more often you don't care if you live either. I've seen you throw yourself into hunts. Taking unnecessary risks, and every time you shoot me down and you won't talk to me. I'm done with that. So, talk to me God Damn it!"
Dean didn't break eye contact with his friend and for the first time in a long time he let us guard down.
"I'm not suicidal, okay? I swear I am not. I just have thoughts sometimes... with Sammy gone we barely go by the farm. Dad is taking off on his own more then ever. You are busy with Tricorp and I don't want to bother you...and I just..."
"You what?"
Dean's eyes glazed over slightly but he held back the tears.
"I guess I am realizing that I am... alone. I've never been good at being alone Damien."
Caleb grabbed onto the collar of Dean's leather jacket.
"Deuce, I need you to listen to me. I've never been able to fix much for you even when I wanted to. This is an easy fix, okay? You are always going to come first with me. Before The Brotherhood, before Tricorp, before everything. But I promise you, you are never alone. I got your back."
"Thanks Damien..."
The two men entered the hotel room ready to get some sleep. Dean had left a voicemail for his dad letting him know he was staying with Caleb for the night. Before Dean could crawl under the comforter he was coaxed over to kitchenette where Caleb had opened the first aid kit.
"I can take care of it..."
"Shut up and get over here Deuce."
Dean shed his jacket and sat down stiffly in the other chair; his hands wrapped up in the sleeves of his hoodie. Caleb held out his hand and waited for Dean to simply trust him. It didn't take long for Dean to place his arms on the table, lifting his left one into his friend's grasp.
Caleb lifted the sleeve slowly exposing the white gauze which was stained slightly with spots of blood.
"How'd you pull your stitches?"
Dean shrugged.
"Apparently driving with slit wrists is a bad idea..."
"Well, I may not be a doctor, but my father's one. Pretty sure I can take care of this."
Caleb worked silently, checking on the pulled stitches. They were still holding, just a little irritated, so he put on some antibiotic cream and reapplied the pressure bandages.
"He... he hid the knives. It pissed me off, that's why I left. Like he thought I was going to..."
Caleb swallowed and reached out for more gauze.
"I used to keep a gun under my pillow... when I first moved in with Mac. It disappeared at one point and at the time I didn't ask him about it, wasn't ready to have that conversation."
"Did you ever ask him about it?"
"Yeah, years later. He told me he saw me looking at it for a little too long one afternoon and the hair went up on the back of his neck. So, he took it. We hadn't been living together long, but he was scared..."
Dean blinked.
"Scared of what, Damien?"
"Scared of losing me."
Caleb let go of Dean's arm and looked up into his face.
"He doesn't want to lose you kid... and maybe he just finally noticed you were staring at the knives... even figuratively."
Dean took a seat on his bed and his shoulders fell.
"Do Jim and Mac know about this?"
"Yeah, they know. You know how this stuff works Deuce. Injuries are always reported to The Guardian."
Dean rubbed his hands over his tired eyes.
"I think I just need a break."
Dean shrank into himself as if he had just admitted a deep dark secret.
"Okay, wanna go to the farm tomorrow? I'll call John in the morning and let him know."
"Yeah... that sounds good... I think I just want to get some sleep."
Dean sighed and leaned back on the bed, by the time Caleb returned from the bathroom he was fast asleep, a permanent frown adorning his face.
