Part 3

Caleb retained the link as much as he wanted to pull away. He was a part of the Winchester's lives, but this was incredibly personal. He was supporting the images Dean's mind settled into.

It was like the other hunter's mind was a directory going through memories, dismissing the abstract images and choosing the overt ones. The leather jacket was perfect, except for the toll it was taking on Dean.

Dean wished John were here to help him with Sam, help him with the decisions weighing on him.

'Pull back,' Caleb sent the suggestion through their mental link.

'No.'

Caleb shut down his ability, only keeping a connection to Dean. 'It wasn't a suggestion. I am not saying wake up, just take a breather.' Caleb didn't know if coming in and out of bridging with Sam was placing a stress on Dean's brain. By staying in a lulling state, Caleb thought there may be fewer side effects.

'You're not giving me a choice.'

That made Caleb feel better. He had been unsure of the idea of Triad power, after all it sounded like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. The three of them could link, but only together could they overcome obstacles. 'Are you pouting, Deanna?'

Again he was distracting Dean. Being in limbo without full faculties was daunting to those who relied on the five senses only. He didn't want to draw attention to it.

'No.'

One word answers were not a good sign. 'What are you thinking of sending through next?'

'I'm thinking. It has to be big.'

Dean always had the ability to be singularly focused. He was ignoring the situation and thinking about helping Sam. Caleb decided to help him brainstorm. 'So it won't be WooBee.'

'I thought about sending in good old Ronald McDonald.'

Caleb laughed. It was fun to go down memory lane. When the boys were kids it seemed it was so difficult to keep them out of trouble. He never thought it would be like this when they made it to adulthood. He thought it would be easier. He was wrong. 'He hates clowns. You thinking of scaring him into waking up?'

'Works for the hiccups.'

He distinctly recalled a time when he had the hiccups and the boys had spent an hour jumping out at him. It was near impossible to do a sneak attack on a psychic. 'No it doesn’t.'

'Okay, I have an idea.'

Now Caleb could sense Dean was being smug. 'Is it bigger than a breadbox?'

'Damien, you are in for quite a ride.'

Sam tiptoed out of the house, figuring he'd get breakfast at the office. They had lived in the house for two years, and he knew where all the little creaks were that could potentially wake up his wife.

He dropped a quick kiss on Jessica's forehead. She wasn't feeling well; her pregnancy was taxing, but in one month they would have a baby girl or boy. It was supposed to be a surprise, but Jessica said she had a feeling it was a boy. Sam was nervous regardless of the sex. He was scared about the responsibility of another life that would rely on him for everything.

Because of his fear he was putting in long hours at the firm. Sam opened the garage door, pushing the button on the remote. When he backed up he saw the black car behind the driveway. It would be a tight fit, but he'd be able to move the Tahoe around it.

He parked in the employee parking garage and walked to the elevator. He blinked twice when he saw the same black car parked in a handicapped space. He studied the car. It was old, a four door sedan kept in good condition. It was a Chevrolet Impala with no handicap decal.

Sam thought about reporting it to security, but he had better things to do, as in billable hours. He worked steadily until lunch when one of the partners, Spencer Trent, invited him out to discuss a case.

He followed Spencer outside since they were going to the restaurant across the street when he saw the car again, this time parked on the street. Sam was startled, and as they crossed right in front of it he noted the Kansas license plates. Living in California, but being from Kansas, Sam was always hyper aware of the beige and red versus the white and blue of California. He tugged on his suit jacket in nervousness of having seen the vehicle repeatedly.

The lunch was uneventful as he spent more time looking out the window, hoping to spy the owner of the car. No one ever came, and he had left Spencer with a bad impression. To make up for it, since he eventually wanted to be a partner at YED, he planned to work late. Jessica hated the sixty hour weeks, which was why Sam learned to call when he was going to be too late.

"Oh, honey, I'll wait up for you."

He smiled at her offer, knowing she couldn’t stay up past nine these last few weeks. "No, it's okay, Jess, get some sleep."

"I'll leave something on the stove for you."

He nodded, hoping it wasn't one of her meat free, unrecognizable vegetable casseroles. "Love you," he murmured, and she gave him the same reply.

Sam worked until the cleaning staff came in. He shut the desk lamp off and picked up his brief case, pulling his keys out as he made his way down to the elevator. He glanced up at the security camera as he exited. It was always too quiet in the business district at night, and it was nice to see something or someone watching his back.

He diverted his attention from the camera and almost walked into the black Impala sitting again, illegally, in the handicap spot.

"Son of a bitch. What the hell is going on?" He examined the car, walking around it. He looked back at the elevator. The owner had to be in the building. He was tempted to go floor by floor, but in a thirty plus floor high rise it would take him all night. He then felt a compulsion to test the doors. He went to the driver's side, and one click later the door was open, left unlocked.

Sitting in the car and looking out in the garage, he didn't know if he should touch anything. He did grip the steering wheel and noticed how his hands fit naturally in the grooves. Sam moved his hands to the glove compartment after he patted the warm dark interior. He told himself he would only open the glove box if it was unlocked.

It was unlocked.

He leaned over to find the registration was on the top. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala was registered to a Dean Winchester of Lawrence, Kansas.

He dropped the piece of paper and placed one foot outside of the car, one still in. He moved his other foot, too. He sat there a moment to calm himself. He looked around but there was no one. Sam pulled out his cell phone and called his father, not thankful for the time difference between California and Kansas. He would be waking his father up, but he knew his father slept on the side of the bed near the phone.

"Winchesters," his father answered gruffly.

"Dad?" He called out to his father. "Did I wake you up?"

"Sam! Did Jessica have the baby?"

Sam placed a hand on his forehead. Of course his father would think he would only be calling his late because of the baby. "No, no, not yet, I just wanted to talk. Don’t wake up Mom."

"Okay, Sam," his father chuckled. "I was expecting this call. Give me a minute to get to the other room."

Sam frowned. He didn't know what his father was talking about.

"Sam, you are going to be a great father. In the beginning it's tough, but it gets easier up until they turn thirteen, then you wish you could send them back because they don't want to listen anymore."

He shook his head. His father thought he was freaking out about his impending fatherhood. "What? Dad, that's not why I called."

"It isn't? Not that you were a bad kid, Sam, I was just saying-"

He ignored his father's backpedaling and got to the matter at hand. "I remember a picture of you and an old black car. Is that right?"

"Old black car?! Sure. It was a beauty, my car, sold it when you were born. . ." His father sounded wistful.

"Did you sell it to a relative? A Dean Winchester?"

"No, it doesn't sound familiar. I could find the papers. Why?"

"There's this Impala here in the parking garage that looks like the picture, and it's registered to a Dean Winchester," Sam started to explain.

"Maybe that's Cousin Ernie's kid. Maybe he's in California? I'd have to ask your mom in the morning.. Wow, what if that car stayed in the family? I would love to see that car again. Maybe buy it back? I don't need a sensible car since I'm going to be a grandfather soon."

Sam chuckled; his parents were thrilled they were going to finally have a grandchild. "I'll leave him a note and see if he wants to sell it. How's that?" They said their goodbyes with, as usual, Sam's promise to call more often, but during normal waking hours.

He pulled out a pen and his yellow legal notepad and wrote: I am interested in buying your car. Please contact Sam at swinchester .

He relaxed a bit after leaving the note. It was probably a coincidence this morning that he saw the car, and the person who owned it probably worked in the building in one of the other offices. Maybe his cousin had tracked him down; that was plausible. He couldn't wait for Dean to call him so they would probably have a good laugh over his paranoia.

The street where he lived was quiet, the streetlights glowing every fifty feet or so. He pulled forward and backed into the garage so the next morning he would just pull out straight ahead. When he turned back around after parking, there across the street was the black Chevrolet Impala.

He jogged over. "Dean?" he called out, feeling a bit foolish. There was no one in the car and no one nearby. Sam was aggravated. This was an invasion of his privacy, regardless if he was related to this Dean person or not. He also had to think of his safety and Jessica's. He pulled out his cell phone, calling the police. "There is an abandoned car parked on my street that I would like it removed." Reporting a car as abandoned would get it towed.

Sam saw his note rippling against the windshield wiper like a flag. When he roughly pulled it, it was no longer his note, but another:

I'm your brother Dean.

Dean's body protested and gave a jerk, breaking the contact with Sam as he spasmed. "Shit!" he huffed. Dean pushed Caleb away as he found his friend was trying to uncoil him. Dean had curled over himself as the tight pain shuddered for a moment, then relaxed. "It's . . . it's nothing, j-just a Charlie horse." The stuttering was not helping his case. He felt the moisture under his nose and tried to sniff it back in order to hide it.

"Fuck that," Caleb growled. "We need to stop. Your nose is bleeding. This isn't good. It isn't right."

Dean squared his shoulders, wiped his hand under his nose, and decided to stand to prove he was fine. His legs felt like rubber, but they were slowly regaining sensation. "You know we got through."

"We didn't." Caleb gestured between the both of them. "The Impala, Deuce, really?" Caleb strode to the bathroom. Dean heard water rush and then the slap of the washcloth hitting his face.

"What?" Dean couldn't figure out how to get himself through to Sam, so he kept sending images. "He'll understand," he answered as he wiped the blood from his nose.

"Not so much." Caleb's eyes flickered to Sam, still lying on the bed unmoving.

Dean rubbed his mouth. He thought for sure he would have some sort of reaction. They had been at this for over two hours with worry clenching his stomach.

"Oh, fuck, Ruby's at the door," Caleb interrupted Dean's thoughts with the warning.

"Get rid of her," Dean ordered, stretching out his abilities as The Guardian, but honestly, he would have asked the same of his friend as he did The Knight. He couldn’t deal with Ruby and her insidious thoughts now.

"Do you mean it?" Caleb raised his eyebrows.

He shook his head. Dean could not order Caleb to kill Ruby; that order had to come with Sam's full support. She hadn't crossed any lines with Sam, yet, but Dean had dreams.

"Fine, fine." Caleb sounded disappointed. The older hunter opened the door with a "Go away", then closed the door looking completely full of pride for his actions.

Ruby entered anyway, narrowing her eyes at Caleb with promises of revenge. "What are you two doing? Sam's crying out to me. I can feel it." She stretched a hand out to Sam, coming closer to the bed.

Dean got in the middle as a barrier between his brother and Ruby. Caleb's phone rang a familiar tune. "The theme song to Bewitched?"

Caleb shrugged, and Dean knew who was on the phone. He pointed at Ruby. "You, shut up."

Dean was only privy to one side of the conversation. Caleb had backed up; taking no chances that Joshua would find out Ruby was in the room with them. It would be an insult to Josh. "Hey, man, when are you going to get here?" Caleb nodded. "We're making progress." Then Caleb's eyes darted to Ruby. He ended the conversation after a pause. "See you soon."

Ruby had pressed herself against Dean, trying to get around him to his brother. He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. "You need to go."

"And stay gone," Caleb added.

She put her hands up. "Please, I just want to help, you've got to believe me. . ." Her eyes watered, but nothing fell. "When you were gone, I was there for him. I helped him."

Dean placed his hand in the crook of her elbow and escorted her to the door. "You can help by leaving. When he wakes up we'll tell him you stopped by."

She tried protesting again, but he held firm, opening the door and watching as she walked to her car.

Caleb crossed his arms and gestured to the closed door. "I can't prove it, but she has something to do with this."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. A hunch was insufficient when it came to Ruby. His brother would never believe them. "Future law boy needs evidence. You talk to him about Ruby when he wakes up."

"I've tried. He doesn't like hearing that demons can't be reformed."

Dean sat down by Sam's side and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to prepare himself to make contact. Dean looked up at Caleb, who hadn't moved.

Caleb shook his head and sighed. "You need to rest more. That reaction isn't healthy."

He felt fine; the tremors were gone now, hidden when Ruby entered. He had pushed a lot down because of his brother and could continue to do so. "I can rest when he wakes up."