Dream On

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: Ridley is all about The Brotherhood and Kripke is all about Supernatural. I do not profit from either.

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Chapter 2/6

Saturday morning found the Winchesters on the road. Kentucky was ten hours away, and John wouldn't stop often. Dean sat in the front seat, Sam in the back already asleep. They were going to spend their school vacation with Pastor Jim. The youngest Winchester had been looking forward to it, Dean was wary.

"So is Caleb going to be there?" Dean asked, making conversation even though he already knew the answer.

"As far as I know. He has spring break," John replied, resting one hand on the steering wheel and relaxing his other elbow on the Impala's window. "Figured we would help Jim on a hunt."

Dean nodded. "He's graduating this year." He reminded his father.

"Hmmm…" John's answer was noncommittal.

Dean wondered about Caleb's future, wondered if they would see him more or less. "He gonna hunt full time?"

There was a long pause before John replied. "I don't think Mac will allow it."

Mac was always telling the boys about having a well rounded life. He couldn’t imagine Caleb behind the desk with a suit and tie, but he also couldn’t imagine him living in one gritty motel after another. "Probably not."

With nothing else to say there was a companionable silence between Dean and John.

The fourteen-year-old fumbled with his walkman before deciding to put the headphones on and listen to one of his tapes. He was nervous about seeing Caleb again, especially after what had happened the last time. . .

His father had taken the last of the codeine. Dean didn’t remember where it came from, only that in 4 hours his father would wake in pain. The poltergeist had thrown John around, and he had returned to their motel bleeding and bruised.

Dean had stitched him up, banishing Sam to the television and homework. His father was resting now, and Dean checked on his brother. The ten-year-old was spread out on the pull out sofa, the TV glowing, its sound on low. Dean drew salt circles around his father's bed and the sofa bed. He shut the television off, took the emergency $20 from his sock and placed it in his sweatshirt pocket.

He knew he'd find Testerman and his friends hanging near the motel. Dean had stayed clear of them, not making enemies, yet keeping them as acquaintances.

"Winchester," Bobby Testerman greeted Dean.

Dean gave him a nod. The eighteen-year-old was the go to person in the neighborhood, leader of the other wastrel teens. Dean had stayed clear of them, but made sure they knew he wasn't a push over and that Sam was under his protection. Demand respect and it was given, but now he had to play in their field. "I'm hoping you can help me out."

They were sitting on the back stoop of a nearby apartment building, a few bottles of beer littering the cement steps. "All depends on what you need."

Dean stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, making eye contact. "Painkillers –the prescription stuff."

Bobby jumped down off the stoop. He circled Dean, sizing him up. "How much you got?"

Dean let himself be inspected. He fingered the twenty he had in his sweatshirt. He tried to always have some extra money, using it usually to buy something Sam desired. "Enough."

Testerman nodded, and rubbed his fingers on his lips. "I got some percs."

Percoset were candy to John Winchester. They had escalated past that particular pain killer a few years ago. "Nothing stronger?"

"Vicodin," Bobby countered.

The drug name was music to Dean's ear. He sought out to close the deal. "10 for 10."

Testerman shook his head, and waved off the younger teen to dismiss him. "No way."

"5 for 15." Dean tried again. He had to get those pills and as many as possible.

Bobby started to shake his head, then paused before stating, "8 for 20."

"Deal." Dean nodded, accepting the plastic bag, which materialized from Bobby's unseen pocket.

Dean studied them for a moment, checking to see if they were stamped and were in fact authentic.

"Hey. I'll throw in this too- in case those don’t do the trick." Bobby forced two pills into Dean's hand.

The fourteen-year-old stared at the green colored pills marked with 007. He tried returning them. "They're not for me."

Bobby smiled and crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, it's a little E."

"No, I-" Dean looked at the pills with uncertainty. He had to accept them, if only to flush them away back in the room.

"What's going on?" asked the familiar voice from the dark shadows.

"Caleb?" Dean whipped around to see the older hunter. He heard the murmuring of the other teens. "Hey, it's cool. I know him-."

"I don’t." Bobby said, his friends gathering around him to protect him.

Caleb placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, taking in the environment and the two pills still in the open palm of the teen's hand. "Deuce, what the hell are you into?"

"None of your business man," Testerman answered unafraid of Caleb.

"Yeah, it is." Reaves stepped forward, getting into the teen's face. "You're some flunky dealer and I have a problem with that." Caleb dug a finger into Bobby's chest, which the teen tried unsuccessfully to remove. "I don't care that your dad is in jail, your mom left you –some of us have bigger problems." The psychic pushed Testerman into his friends with disgust.

The teen leaped forward at Caleb, attacking him. One right hook to the jaw and Bobby was down, his friends giving the hunter and Dean a wide bay. Reaves shook his head. "Go get a freaking job and an education." He turned to Dean. "Why can't people like that be sucked dry by a vampire?"

But Dean had already left, and was twenty feet ahead of him. Caleb jogged over to the teen who was walking with determined steps. "Hey, Dean, wait up."

Dean stopped short. His words were filled with anger. "What are you doing here?"

Caleb was taken back, as again Dean walked away from the hunter. Reaves clamped a hand down on the teen's shoulder. "After what I just witnessed shouldn’t that be my question?"

Dean shrugged the grip off. "Dad got hurt. Not all of us have a well stocked med kit."

The damned Winchester pride was evident. "Mac's always willing to help."

"We don’t want his help."

It was an expected answer. Caleb knew his father had tried on numerous occasions to help the Winchesters, not only monetarily but with medical supplies. It may have been foolishness or stubbornness, but John was determined to only get basic assistance. "What about the other exchange?" Reaves was not going to let the matter drop. He had been a witness.

"What this?" Dean opened his palm, revealing the two ecstasy pills. "I'm going to flush it down the drain."

This time Caleb stopped, forcing the teen to face him. "Really?"

"Yeah." The teen looked at the pills and then away from Reaves, unable to face him. He had been tempted.

"Didn't think so." Caleb shook his head, trying to decide what he could say to the young man, and find out what was happening that Dean would even consider taking drugs.

Dean jutted his chin in the direction of the motel. "Got to get back, I left Dad and Sammy alone."

"They can wait a minute." Caleb slowed down their walk, removing the urgency. John and Sam were safe for now. "What's going on?'

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I'm 14, Caleb. I just stitched up my dad, made Sam dinner and made sure he did his homework-I'm just peachy." He said the words with anger and frustration.

Reaves placed a reassuring arm around the teen's shoulders. He was surprised it was accepted. Mac had always been there to comfort Caleb, whether it was desired or not, and the psychic was thankful for it especially after seeing what a lack of comfort did to Dean. "Yeah, I get it-but drugs Deuce?"

They made it to the outside entrance of the motel room, the last room on the second floor situated in the corner. Dean pulled out the key, but waited to enter. "I should be allowed to experiment like every other kid."

"You're not like every other kid, and you don't experiment with that." Caleb hated sounding like an after school special, hated it even more to remind Dean of his responsibilities. "What about Sam?" Reaves swallowed, knowing it was a scare tactic, but he never wanted the teen to be tempted again.

Dean rolled his eyes up, and Caleb felt the boy trying to get control of his emotions. He thrust the pills at Caleb. "Yeah, I know, I know-here-take it-I don’t want it." Divested of the ecstasy, Dean opened the door. "Home sweet home."

Caleb looked at Sam, laid out sleeping on stained sheets. The room looked rundown and dilapidated. The sink's faucet was dripping in the kitchenette.

Dean left the psychic standing in the room, and checked on his father. When he returned he noticed Caleb staring at the kitchen. "I can make you something if you're hungry."

"No, I'm good." Reaves shook his head. Dean had a vast expertise in canned and boxed food. But the sight of the room hindered Caleb's appetite.

The teen went to the window, looked out and then made sure the shade was pulled all the way down.

"Deuce, I don't think that kid's following you."

"Not today at least. . ." Dean slumped down in the hard wood chair.

"Shit." Caleb shook his head. The Winchester brothers lived in the neighborhood. There would be eventual retribution.

Dean looked at sleeping Sam. He would have to be extra vigilante about protecting the youngster. "You should have stayed out of it."

"Can't do that. What kind of friend would I be?" Caleb quickly brewed a lie he could make work. "I have a friend in real estate owes me a favor. He'll find you a better place."

And three months later the Winchesters were pulling into Pastor Jim's driveway. Dean stood, stretching before going to the trunk to get their bags. Reaves sauntered out with Atticus and Scout following in his wake.

"Jim's on a tear about Sunday best clothes," he said in the way of greeting.

John gave an amused snort. "So I guess you're not infiltrating the church this year?"

"Don’t you have better things to talk about?" Caleb retorted. He couldn’t believe The Triad spoke about Reaves's fashion sense instead of more important Brotherhood matters.

It hadn’t missed Caleb's attention that Dean had yet to say anything to the psychic. Reaves went to help him. Sam had already been overwhelmed by the canine greeting party. "How's the new place?" Caleb had found them a furnished place in the same school district within 2 days. He gave first, last and security and swore the landlord to secrecy. John had accepted, though Reaves believed it was because of the fact he was on pain medication at the time.

"Good, Sammy really likes it." Dean still didn’t look at the other hunter, concentrating on the three duffle bags.

"Any trouble?"

"Nope." The teen grabbed all three bags, shifting one to his shoulder.

Caleb grabbed two of the bags. "Is this your father's bag?" He held one canvas bag up.

"Yeah." Dean frowned. "Why?"

"You have much to learn young Jedi." Caleb grinned; knowing the quickest way to put the teen at ease was to plot a prank at another person's expense.

Dean smiled in return. Things were back to normal.

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