The Godfather & The Grandfather
By: Tidia
Beta: Mog
"Dad, he just has the sniffles. He can go with you." Caleb said as he pulled a knit hat on Dean’s head so that it covered his eyes. Caleb fixed the situation when he heard the muffled sounds.
Mac frowned. "You're a doctor now? Maybe when you finish high school, and you won't unless you do your homework."
Caleb sighed, the term’s progress report had come on Thursday with the remark that he was not working to his full potential. That coupled with being caught with a girl in his room had resulted in Ames lockdown for two weeks. Caleb didn't know what was worse for Mac- having a son that was lazy in school or one with raging hormones. "I get it."
"Dean needs to stay here, rest up and drink plenty of liquids." The Winchester brothers had been unexpectedly deposited with Mac while John took care of a nearby, long weekend hunt. Caleb figured he could use the Winchesters to his advantage for some alone time, easily convincing Sam he should suggest a trip to the Natural History Museum. Instead, it backfired and he was drafted into babysitting duty because Dean was sick. "All right Dean? You can go back to the couch, son."
Dean nodded, leaving a trail of his hat, shoes, and jacket as he made his way back to the couch and under the blankets.
"I want to go to the moo-seum. You promised," Sam said tugging on Mac's sleeve, hopping back and forth.
Mac smiled at the little boy then looked at Caleb. "We'll be back in a few hours, and we will go over your homework at that time."
Caleb narrowed his eyes, fuming, and instead of retorting, turned his back as Sam and his father left. He stomped to the couch, putting his hand out. "Give me back the twenty."
The teen heard Dean coughing under the blankets, then a hand came out with the money. "I tried."
Caleb grabbed the money with two fingers, then stuffed it in his pocket. A part of him hoped he would get Dean's cold and then die, therefore avoiding his homework and punishment. "Deuce, that wasn’t trying. That was pathetic."
Dean sneezed, coming out from under the blankets; he shrugged his shoulders then wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"That's gross." Caleb threw the sick child a box of tissues that Mac had left on the coffee table along with medicine and a written time table of when Dean should get his next dose.
Dean rigorously wiped his nose, the chapped skin brightening red for a moment before settling into a strong pink shade. "Tell your friend to come over."
It was tempting to call Melissa, leave Dean in the living room watching a video and retire to the privacy of his bedroom, but having a coughing, sneezing kid around would kill the mood he would be trying to create. "I don't think so."
Instead Caleb went to the VCR, going through the labels of some copies he had acquired.
"Mac said you were supposed to do homework."
Caleb turned his head; Dean had placed the blanket over his head so only his face was visible. "You a narc too?"
"No," Dean harrumphed. "I didn’t want to stay here with you, you know. I wanted to go to the museum."
Caleb snorted, focusing back on finding the tape he was looking for. "Not like that."
"Mac didn't want to take me."
Caleb frowned. Dean wasn't one to whine or complain. The teen felt a twinge of guilt; he had sold the Natural History like it was the eighth wonder of the world. "Come on, you know that's not true.
Dean looked down at the green and white plaid of the blanket, tracing one of the lines. "He likes Sammy best."
Caleb scratched his head, not wanting to confirm what he also believed. "Well, you're my favorite—just don’t tell anyone… ever,'kay."
The boy shrugged, changing subjects. "Did Mac bring a snack for Sam? He likes a snack."
The teen sighed, turning back to his mission. "Mac and Sam will be fine." He grinned as he found the tape, and pushed it into the VCR.
"What're we watching?" Dean said, lying back down.
Caleb gestured for the boy to scoot over, then adjusted the blankets, tucking Dean in. "You'll love this-"
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The rectory was quiet; Jim was in his office catching up on some paperwork. The phone rang, and he could hear his secretary saying she would put the call directly through. The church secretary was rather militant when it came to screening calls. There were few people who received the special privilege of not being cleared.
"Pastor Jim?"
"Dean, sounds like you have a cold." Jim had arranged for John's hunt in Vermont, and strongly suggested he bring the children to Mackland for the weekend. He didn't like it when Dean and Sam were left on their own.
"Yeah, but it's better."
Jim was relieved. He was the boys’ emergency contact, but they should be safe with a doctor - still, John’s boys seemed to attract trouble so one couldn't be too secure. "I see. Why the phone call?"
"Is Dad like Luca Brasi?"
"Who?" Jim didn't recognize the foreign name. "Your father is John Winchester.I really can't compare him to a person I don't know." The pastor could here some muffled sounds; Dean was having a conversation with someone else.
"I mean is he your enforcer?"
"A what?" Jim rested his chin on his hand. He had a feeling Caleb was the the other person with Dean. They were good boys, but they acted out in the strangest ways.
"Should we call you Don instead of Pastor?"
He knew if he just waited Dean would reveal the truth. Although he was aware of current events, he didn't keep up with music and movies, but even he recognized the reference. "Put Caleb on the phone, Dean."
"Okay."
There were again some muffled sounds, then a clink before, "Hey, Jim, what's up?"
The pastor sighed, engaging his patience. This was taking time away from his paperwork; he pushed the numbers of last week's offertory to the side. "Caleb, Dean is asking me inappropriate questions. Can you tell me why?"
"He's high on cold meds. Insisted on calling you even though I said it was a bad idea."
"Damien! I heard that. You're lyin'. Jim! He's lying!"
Caleb made an oomph sound and Jim suspected a small fist had just made contact. "Like I said - loopy on cold meds. You know how kids get."
Jim waited for Dean, but there was no sound. Caleb probably had a hand over his mouth or was somehow restraining the little boy. The pastor had played along long enough. "The Godfather, Caleb?"
"It's a classic." There was no remorse in the teen's voice.
The pastor shook his head. Caleb was trying to skip into adulthood, but he was a typical teen in thinking he knew everything. "At his age The Sword in the Stone is a classic."
"Sounds kinda racy, Jim."
Mackland had been complaining to Jim about the teen's hormones. The doctor did not want to be a young grandfather. "Is your father home?"
"He took Sammy to the museum."
"I see." Jim made a mental list of his choices, and what degree of trouble would then be applied to Caleb. His silence must have been unnerving to the teen.
"Are you going to tell him?"
Jim made his decision. "Oh, no, I'm sure John will attend to this matter."
"John?"
Caleb's voice had risen in pitch. "Yes, Luca Brasi, the enforcer."
"John doesn’t need to know. I mean, Deuce is fine - right Deuce?" Jim pulled the phone slightly away from his ear, expecting the cluttering sounds again. A young voice shouted for him.
"Jim, he covered my face with the blanket!"
The pastor addressed Caleb. "When something concerns John’s son he
needs to know. I'm sorry Caleb; hopefully you won't be … what's that
expression?" Jim retained his seriousness, though he was stifling a
laugh. "Sleeping with the fishes." The pastor hung up the phone over
Caleb's protest, and reclined back in his chair pondering the
similarities between The Brotherhood and The Mafia.
END