Chapter 9.

The sun felt incredibly hot on his bare skin, and Sam was awash with an urgent need to get up. He assumed he’d fallen asleep on the bank of Jim’s pond, where he and his brother had been fishing earlier, but couldn’t for the life of him imagine Dean letting him lay there long enough to feel as miserable as he did.

As it was, his body seemed like it was on fire, the misery of it insisting he awake and make it to the shade, or better yet into the cool lapping water he could hear in the distance. The thought of water, had him swallowing reflexively, his extreme thirst making itself known as he emerged from the shelter of his nap.

Sam realized something was wrong the moment he tried to roll over. His muscles refused to cooperate, seemed to weigh a ton, as if gravity had played a nasty trick on him. He felt as weak as the proverbial kitten, as if he’d been swimming the last few hours instead of obviously napping. Even his head felt the density of a bowling ball, and a slight panic seized him as he was unable to even marginally lift it from the ground.

Then there were his eyelids that had apparently transformed into lead bay doors, and him lacking the strength to even raise a plastic blind. As if from a great distance, he heard himself speak, the intended name coming out sounding much more like a whimper than Dean.

More lapping of water, then the heavenly touch of something cool and wet against his skin. “Sam?”

The voice frightened him, despite the fact that it was soft and female. In fact, that may have inspired the fear; because the tone conjured a vision of a dark-haired woman with an inviting smile, and deceitful eyes. Syria.

Sam realized in an instant he wasn’t at Pastor Jim’s, hadn’t been in almost a week, and then reality slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer as his foggy brain cleared enough to recall the real reason for his discomfort.

Strength born of terror surged through him, giving him the ability to open his eyes, at least move his arms which he brought up in a defensive posture. “No,” He managed to get past his parched lips. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay. Take it easy, child,” The woman’s voice said again, and Sam blinked furiously, trying to clear the blurred, wavering picture in front of him.

Well-honed self-preservation instincts kicked in and Sam managed to roll away just as hands floated his way. The teen almost tumbled from the bed in an effort to escape the witch that had poisoned him, memories of the pain he had battled earlier urging him in his escape. But a strong grip caught him before he could hit the floor and he struggled to evade the grasp until Caleb’s deep voice stopped him. “Sammy! Cut it out. You’re okay.”

“Caleb?” The name came out in a rush of breath and Sam tried to focus on the face above him. It wasn’t who Sam was expecting, but at least it was someone safe.

“Yeah. It‘s me.” The older hunter carefully pushed the younger boy back onto the mattress. “Take it easy.”

Sam frowned, his dark gaze leaving Caleb’s as it skirted around the room, searching for the one person who could completely take the panic away. “He’s taking a shower-he’s just down the hall.”

“Dean?” Sam said the name anyway, knowing he sounded like a child but needing his big brother more than he needed to feel grown up. Caleb nodded to the stranger. “Bird, go get Deuce.”

The woman moved and Sam flinched, sidling closer to Caleb. Images were still blurring, making everything seem like some sort of whacked fun house. He hated fun houses. “Easy,” Caleb soothed, “She’s a friend.”

Bird waited for the teen to still before making her way around the bed, allowing her access to the door. “Syria?” Sam asked, confusion still lacing his rough voice.

“No.” Caleb shook his head. “She’s not here, kid. She’s not getting near you.”

Something about the confidence in Caleb’s voice allowed Sam to breathe a little easier, to hold the fear at bay. But still a neurotic need to actually see Dean was waiting in the wings, threatening to take over.

Caleb must have sensed it, maybe read his mind, because he kept a grip on the teen’s shoulder, stayed close, something that Sam would find mortifying later on. After all, Sam was usually unflappable, as fearless as his big brother, which was saying a hell of a lot. And it was embarrassing to have Caleb see him so out of sorts. Not that it was the first time, but Sam fought hard to be accepted as an equal, especially with the older hunter and Dean.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked again before he could stop himself , and Caleb realized that the morphine was still probably coursing through the boy's system, aiding the high fever in confusing the kid, mottling his thoughts.

“He’s coming. Just hang in there.” When Sam resisted Caleb moving away, the older hunter also blamed the drug for the uncharacteristic clinginess. He could feel the struggle in the younger man, knew he was battling against the overwhelming sensations assaulting him, and it set every one of Caleb’s protective instincts on edge. He wanted to kill Hughes, was now positive that he should have done it years ago- no matter what it might have cost him at the time.

The last time he remembered having felt such an overwhelming need to shield the half-grown man in front of him was when Sam had been seven and the boy’s own grandfather had come to take him away. Standing there in Pastor Jim's driveway holding back a struggling twelve-year-old Dean as Sam was dragged away from them was the first time Caleb seriously considered taking a human life. It would have been so easy.

And it was also one of the first times Caleb had known real fear-learned of its power to bring even the strongest and bravest of men to their knees- a man like John Winchester. In fact, after watching his hero suffer, he’d sworn to himself never to fall victim to such weakness himself, but here he was-kneeling under its weight, helpless to stop its control over him.

“Let me get you some water. Okay?”

Sam nodded, and Caleb released his shoulders, standing, feeling steadier the instant he placed distance between himself and the teen. He walked around the bed, retrieved a glass from the nightstand and filled it from the pitcher that Bird had asked him to bring in earlier.

“Dad?” Sam asked as he took the glass with slightly trembling hands.

“He’s still gone,” Caleb answered, ready to grab the glass if need be, hoping like hell he didn’t have to help the kid with it. But a sudden, vivid image of giving little Sammy a sippy cup flashed through his mind and he took an awkward step forward, urged on by the memory of caring for the toddler. Luckily his rescue arrived in the form of the expert on the subject of everything Sam.

“Hey,” Dean entered the room, hastily tugging a t-shirt over his head, his hair still dripping from his interrupted shower. “You’re awake.” He crossed the floor, his gaze moving from Sam’s to Caleb, unable to discern exactly why the older hunter looked almost as shaken as his little brother.

“Dean,” Sam breathed, the relief palpable. Caleb still had to grab the glass of water from him as it tipped dangerously in the teen’s grasp.

Dean sat on the bed, laid the back of his hand against Sam’s forehead. “Well, I’d say I’m glad to see your ugly mug, but you have shitty timing as usual. I was just getting into that whole steam-sauna shower thing that Mac’s got going on in his master bath, when Bird burst in like a one-woman S.W.A.T.”

“Sorry,” Sam offered, his eyelids blinking a few times, allowing the pull of the drugs to knock him off balance again, now that his safety net had arrived.

“You’re still hot,” Dean commented, his concerned gaze meeting Caleb’s again, before flitting back to his brother. “Are you in pain? Like before? ”

Sam shook his head. “Just my head. The rest of me feels kind of floaty.”

“You can thank Dr. Feel Good over there for that.”

The teen cut his gaze to Caleb. “Did he knock me out? Is that why my skull feels like it’s trying to explode.”

“No. That would be a side effect of the morphine these two pumped you full of.” Bird announced, having heard the boy’s question as she re-entered the room. The herbalist was carrying a silver tray with several tea cups on it, which she carefully deposited onto the nightstand. “It has quite the bite, kind of like a really bad hangover.”

Sam stared expectantly at his brother who forced a grin. “Caleb’s girlfriend, Bird, ” He explained, and then winked at the woman. “I know what you’re thinking. She’s so out of his league.”

“I hope these two have not influenced you, young man. I don’t know if the world can handle much more of their brand of charm.”

The teen attempted a weak smile. “I know better.”

“Don’t let the innocent look fool you, Birdell. He’s a whole different kind of trouble.”

“He sure looks like a load of trouble what with those dimples and all.” She glanced up at Caleb. “A sure-fire sign of mischief.”

The other hunter frowned, as if to erase his own incriminating mark. “He’s twice as bad as I was at that age.”

“Then I’ll just have to be on guard,” Bird patted Sam’s blanket-covered knee as she took a seat on the other side of him, and held out a small tea cup. “I hope you like tea.”

Sam flinched and Dean squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. I think we can trust her.” He forced a smile. “No red spiky heels. That really should have been our first clue.”

The tactic worked and the older Winchester was relieved to see Sam at least fake a grin. “As long as it doesn’t have raspberry in it.”

“No raspberries.” Bird looked thoughtful. “But it does have Dandelion, Devil’s Bit, and a touch of Dog Rose.”

Dean took the cup and sniffed it suspiciously. “Flowers?”

“Caleb did tell you I was an herbalist?” She took the cup back from Dean with a chaste look and held it out for Sam once more. “These flowers have properties that will fight the fever, and I‘ve also added a little something to help you sleep.”

The teen took the cup and after another look at his brother drank it down, with a grimace. “That’s terrible,” He coughed, giving the woman her cup back, with an accusing glare.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t.” She patted his leg again. “Just that it didn’t have raspberries.” She looked at the older Winchester. “Make sure you get him to drink as much of this as possible, along with plenty of water. And if the fever continues, you can always try ice packs or a cold bath.”

“Thanks,” Dean told her as he helped Sam ease back down against the pillows.

“You’re welcome. And I’ve left another brew with pain relieving properties,” Bird looked at Caleb. “It might not be as effective as Morphine, but I don’t suggest using that again unless it’s necessary. The other tea should take most of the edge off.”

Reaves nodded. “Do you have any other ideas about this?”

“Well, “ Bird frowned, “Considering I really don’t understand what this is, and that I don’t have training in special counter herbs for Voodoo spells, I’d have to say no.”

“That’s okay. Dad will fix it.” Dean said, confidently, and when he sought out Caleb’s gaze, the older hunter nodded, reassuringly.

“Right. Of course he will. Johnny will take care of everything.”

Bird sighed. “I hope this John is the miracle worker you boys think he is.”

“Closest thing we got,” Sam added, drowsily.

“Then I hope to see you again, young man.” Bird leaned in a little closer. “You can fill me in on all the things Caleb has been up to over these last few years. I’d love to know why there is no Mrs. Reaves yet.”

Dean snorted. “I can clue you in on that little secret.”

“Yeah,” Caleb interjected smoothly. “The law of supply and demand, Birdell. Too many interested parties, not enough of me to go around.”

The woman laughed, and Sam glanced up at her. “But he tries really hard to keep as many satisfied customers as possible. Like the Wal-mart of dating.”

“Says the runt who hasn’t even kissed a girl yet,” Caleb replied with a huff. “You know the rule, no commenting on my love life until you have one of your own.”

“Oh he’s kissed a girl…” Dean started only to receive the full-on Winchester glare.

“Dean…”

The older Winchester held his hands up. “Hey, I wasn’t going to violate big brother confidentiality.”

Bird cleared her throat, obviously trying to quell the growing argument before it could turn into an ugly bloodbath. “As much as I would love to stay and have a testosterone-driven chat with you strapping boys, I do have a business to get back to.” She looked at Caleb. “That is if the ladies man here will walk me out.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Thanks again, Bird.” Dean said, seriously. “We owe you one.”

“I’ll remember that. The next time I invite Caleb for dinner, I’ll put out two extra plates.” She squeezed Dean’s shoulder as she rounded the bed, glanced down at Sam. “Take care of each other.”

Dean nodded and waited until he and Sam were once more alone before reclaiming his seat on the side of the bed.

“She was nice,” Sam’s voice brought the older hunter’s full attention back to him.

“Yeah. Who would have guessed Caleb knew women that came out in the light of day.”

The sixteen-year-old watched his brother shift nervously on the bed, his hand fiddling with the bedspread. “You okay?” He asked.

Dean laughed, though no humor was detectable. “I’m not the one looking like death warmed over, dude.”

Sam saw the subterfuge for what it was. “It’s always hardest on those left behind.”

The older hunter rolled his eyes. “Didn’t we just see that on a Starsky & Hutch re-run at Jim’s? In fact, this whole poisoning thing has Seventies drama stamped all over it.”

Sam sighed, “Maybe Duran’s a fan.”

The twenty-year-old nodded. “The freak’s probably into disco, too.”

The teen shifted on the bed, wincing as some of the feeling flooded back into his legs. “Sequins and paten leather-that’s a disturbing image.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling Duran’s disturbing on more level than one.”

“Caleb doesn’t like him.” Sam pointed out, trying to keep himself distracted from not only the returning pain, but the lull of the drugs. There were some things he and Dean needed to get straight, before he drifted off again.

The older Winchester looked down at his hands, oddly comforted by the flash of silver on his finger. “Who does Caleb really like? He’s not exactly Mr. Personality.”

“And you have room to talk.”

Dean grinned. “ Friends are overrated.”

“But brothers aren’t.”

Sam had the satisfaction of watching slight surprise register in Dean’s green eyes. “No…I guess they aren’t.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He watched the surprise give way to confusion. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. Do we need to have everyone who drank poisoned tea raise their hands to clarify.”

Irritation was usually Dean’s second line of defense after humor failed. “I mean…if Dad’s not able to change this.”

“Sam…” Dean warned, his tone growing angry, but the teen went on. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“I mean it, Dean. You look worse than me.”

“That’s not even possible, zombie boy.”

Sam closed his eyes, swallowed hard. “Dean…Dad can’t go through with this trade. He can’t let Duran bring Scott Kline back to life. That’s against everything we believe in.”

He was completely surprised to feel the roughness of his brother’s hand on his forehead, and with a will he didn’t know he possessed , Sam forced his eyes open once more.

“All I know is that nothing’s going to happen to you. Nothing. The only thing I believe is that I’m going to fix this. I don’t care what it takes.”

Sam swallowed again, forcing down the lump of emotions that was suddenly clogging his throat. “That’s what Duran’s counting on, bro.”

Dean let his hand slide through Sam’s hair before removing his touch all together. “Then I guess the son of a bitch is smarter than he looks.”

“Dean?”

The older hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed wearily. “Yeah, Sam?”

“You know Duran probably doesn’t have a body either. He’ll want Dad, or you and Caleb to get that for him, too.”

Dean glanced down at the floor, studied the intricate pattern of the designer rug. If it came to that , Dean was pretty sure of what he'd do. In fact, he was certain his father and Caleb felt the same way. Maybe it wouldn't come to that. “Go to sleep, Sammy.” He looked back up at his brother. “Just go to sleep, and everything will be okay.”

Sam wondered if the irony in that statement was lost on his big brother.

There was a time, when Dean would promise him just the opposite. On numerous nights, in a hundred different places, Dean would bring his brother from the terror of a nightmare with the simple phrase, ‘Just wake up, Sammy. Wake up, and it will all be over.’ Those words had always been enchanted, but now they seemed to mock them.

This wasn’t a bad dream that Dean could chase away. But Sam wouldn’t be the one to tell him that…not now. “Okay,” He sighed, letting his lids slide close. Letting the lie wrap around him like a blanket-lull him back to sleep. Letting it keep his brother safe-for as long as it allowed.

Dean didn’t know how long he had sat there watching his younger brother sleep before Caleb came back in. But from the ache in his neck when he turned too quickly to look at the other hunter as he brushed past his shoulder , Dean was pretty sure it had been a while.

“How’s he doing?”

“Better since Bird’s flower-powered mojo.”

Caleb moved to the side of Sam’s bed and stared down at the teen. The rare concerned look on the older man's face kept Dean from accusing him of reading Sam. And for a brief moment Dean thought he might trace a hand over Sam’s hair, the way he’d seen their father do when Sam was a boy. The same way Dean had done only moments earlier.

But instead Caleb shoved both his hands through his own dark hair, a sigh of frustration escaping him. “I hate to fucking wait.”

“Join the club.” Dean leaned forward, stretching his arms above his head as he did. “Dad should be back soon though. Right?”

Caleb took the chair across from Dean. “I expect he’ll be a while.”

Dean didn‘t like the implications that had for his little brother, but he didn‘t have the energy to do battle with shadows any longer. “You think this hunter will meet him?”

Caleb rubbed a hand over his day's growth of beard. He looked older than his twenty-eight years then , more tired than Dean recalled seeing him in a very long time. “Yeah.”

“Who is this guy anyway?”

“Just a guy, Deuce.”

Dean rolled his eyes, when he recognized the tone of voice. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Caleb laughed. “Funny. You sounded so much like Sammy just then.”

“Fuck you, man.”

The hunter rolled his eyes, as if Dean was making a big deal out of nothing. “Really, kid, the guy’s not a major player. He used to be, from what I hear. He and Jim were tight once. But I think the whole hunting thing got to Elkins- started seeing the big bad everywhere. He lost his whole family. And the years took their toll.”

“He flipped out.”

Caleb shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“But he can be trusted?” Dean looked doubtful.

“Who knows, man. I'm not the person to ask about trust. This room holds nearly half the people on my short list.” The other hunter held his gaze. “But he’s still one of us.”

Dean cut his eyes to Sam, and then glanced back to Caleb. “So is Duran.”

Caleb didn’t say anything for a moment, but then his face took on a grim look, one Dean had witnessed on occasion. It usually happened after a gig had gone south, or something warranted a seriousness that the older hunter wasn’t quite comfortable with. “Not really.”

“He wears the ring.” Dean had grown up, just like Caleb, knowing to respect that symbol for what it was. A link to something bigger than any individual.

Caleb frowned. “He’s in the brotherhood, but that doesn’t make him one of us.”

“Like Dad said, that’s splitting hairs.” Dean was determined to play Devil’s advocate. “The rules still apply.”

The older hunter sighed. “Maybe.”

Dean stayed quiet for a moment, but then his thoughts started back down the dark path that led to an ending he wasn’t quite ready to face and he glanced to Caleb again. “You really think Duran’s got a poor stiff lined up for the second part of this plan? Even if he gets Echnon’s blade, I have a feeling Scotty Kline’s old shell won’t be in very good condition.”

Caleb looked at him. “The way I see it, there’s two kinds of hunters. Those who do their own hunting, and those who scavenge from another predator’s kills.”

Dean nodded, thoughtfully. “You ever see Duran hunt anything on his own?”

“No.” Caleb licked his lips, swallowed thickly. “I haven’t.”

“Peachy,” Dean groaned, palmed his eyes, before rubbing at his aching neck.

“My grandmother would have called Hughes a raven.”

Dean quirked a brow at the other hunter. “Raven? Why’s that?”

“Because, ravens are real smart. Sort of devious, but cunning just the same. They have this relationship, a kind of arrangement, with wolves. The bird will lead a lone wolf, or the entire pack, to a fresh kill. Then it will wait for them to do all the hard work-removing the outer flesh and the bones of the animal to get to the soft organs inside that the wolves like.”

Dean frowned. “Let me guess. Then the ravens swoop down while the wolves are distracted and feast on the discarded parts.”

“Yeah.” Caleb twisted the ring on his finger. “Duran leads other hunters where they need to be, then they do the work for him, finish the gig, and he reaps the rewards. So to answer your question, there isn‘t any way in hell that Hughes has a body on ice, especially considering he needs a living volunteer, that is if Kline doesn‘t want his son walking around like something off the set of the Living Dead.”

The twenty-year-old frowned, watched Caleb‘s face carefully. “He ever do that to you?”

“Do what?” Caleb seemed slightly confused by the change in subject.

“Lead you into something, just to get what he wanted?” There was something between Reaves and Hughes that Dean didn’t completely get, couldn‘t quite put his finger on. Caleb rarely lost his cool, played things close to the vest, but Duran had easily provoked him-had pushed his buttons, seemingly without even trying to. And it bothered Dean that Hughes had used him to do it.

Caleb hesitated, and Dean knew he was only going to get an edited version of the truth. “Let’s just say, I got a little too gung-ho once- was a little too eager for a kill.”

“You?” The younger hunter jested. “I find that hard to believe, man.”

Reaves ignored him and went on. “It was a long time ago and I was too damn cocky for my own good. Imagine you, only a lot better looking. Hughes led me right to the spirit, just like he promised. But when things took a turn for the worse, when he got his belly full, he up and flew away, before it was finished.”

Dean clenched his fists. “He left you behind?”

“Bastard sure didn’t stick around to see if I was breathing. I would have bled out if Jim hadn‘t found me.”

“Well, he’s not going to fly away this time,” the younger hunter spoke softly, but each word rang with a forced calm. “I’m going to finish him.”

Caleb looked down at his clasped hands, carefully twisted the silver ring on his finger around with his thumb. “Like you said, Deuce, he’s still in the brotherhood.”

“I don’t care.“ Dean’s gaze went to his little brother, and then back to Reaves. “You know that’s not as important as family.”

“I know,” Caleb said, hesitantly. He rubbed at the ring again, felt the coolness of the metal against his skin, sensed the slight hum of electricity that he could always detect running through the ore, connecting him to the others.

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