The Edge of Winter
By: Ridley C. James,
September 2008
Beta: Tidia
Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.
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Chapter 2/9
“We are all on a life
long journey and the core of its meaning, the terrible demand of its
centrality is forgiving and being forgiven"
-Martha Kilpatrick
“Are you waiting for
an invitation?” Sam asked as he waited for Caleb to knock on Bobby's
door. He took out his hands and blew on them, trying to warm them up
before stuffing them deep in his jacket.
“You thinking I
should maybe kick the door in?”
Caleb wasn’t in his
happy place. In fact, Sam wasn’t sure if he was completely safe
standing in arm’s reach. That still didn’t deter his smart-ass reply.
“I’m thinking in your condition it would be funny to see you try.
Whatever you do, do it quick. I’m freezing.”
The ride hadn’t
improved their countenance, if anything the long drive in the Impala
with Dean’s absence looming between them had thickened the tension. It
was like the incident at Jessup’s had ripped off a long forgotten scab,
and now the wound wouldn’t stop bleeding. “Unlike some people, I have
manners.”
“Selective ones,”
Sam muttered. Caleb's reply sounded vindictive, not sarcastic so Sam
answered in kind.
“Excuse me?”
The younger hunter
shook his head, not wanting to have this particular conversation and
wondering how he had gotten caught in its lair once more. He never knew
exactly what might set Caleb off. “It’s just I remember a time when you
had no problem barging in, sticking your nose where it didn’t belong.
What was that word you called me…hypocrite.”
Caleb threw his
hands in the air. “Now you’re bringing up Stanford? Priceless.” The
older hunter laughed. “I told you it was just a matter of time.”
“You started it,"
was the best retort Sam had from his arsenal of barbs, and he knew it
was weak.
“Did not.”
“Whatever, dick
head.” Sam put his hand forward, about to knock on the door, knowing
they couldn’t argue in front of Bobby.
“Wait. Maybe you’re
right. Maybe this conversation is long overdue.” Caleb batted his hand
away. “I remember some things about Stanford, too, you know.”
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Palo Alto, CA, November 2002
Caleb sensed the familiar presence before he heard the voices coming
from down the hall. He closed his cell phone with a sigh, pushing his
worry aside for the time being. Convincing Sam to come along was still
his best option, spending forty minutes waiting for Sam to return
weakened the soundness of his plan. Too much damn time to ruminate over
the fact he hadn’t talked to the youngest Winchester since July,
despite leaving numerous voice messages.
The laughing grew closer, enabling Caleb to make out the loud
conversation in the quiet halls. It was a Friday night, most of the
campus at one function or another. He kicked back in the rolling chair,
propped his feet on the obsessively neat desk he pegged as Sam’s, and
steeled himself for the inevitable Winchester storm.
“I can’t believe we drove all the way to LA for nothing.”
“Are you forgetting the Chinese food from Zen that you inhaled?”
The voices were male and female, but neither belonged to Sam. It took
only a quick brush through their thoughts to identify Peter and Kim.
So, Sammy had made friends. Somehow the knowledge was both comforting
and irritating. He sincerely wanted the kid to be happy, but at the
same time knowing what Dean had been through made the revelation bitter
sweet.
“That barely helped ease the pain of standing in line for an hour,”
Peter said.
“Funny, I thought you were enjoying yourself immensely talking to the
two scantily dressed women in front of us,” Kim replied, her voice
caustic and just outside the door.
“I was being friendly.”
“You were being a royal jerk.”
“Can we just forget about LA?”
A different female voice filtered in and Caleb smiled to himself as he
touched her mind. So he’d get to meet the mysterious Jessica whom Sam
had mentioned to Dean on the phone a few nights before. Deuce would be
so jealous.
“I’d rather not be reminded of my incredibly naïve plan,” Jessica
said. “Especially since it bombed.”
“It wasn’t naïve. It was optimistic.”
Caleb’s heart quickened upon hearing Sam, a jumble of old emotions
churning to the surface. A lock turned, the door squeaked and suddenly
the room was cast in garish fluorescent glow.
“Sam’s right, Jess. Who would have thought some stupid art show by a
guy nobody has heard of would be a red carpet affair? Invitation only,
my ass. If I can walk in and see a Monet, then I should be …” Peter’s
rambling stopped abruptly as he registered the strange person in his
dorm room.
Caleb remained seated as Peter gave a startled yelp. He stumbled back
nearly knocking his pretty girlfriend to the floor. Peter stood close
to six feet, gangly with short dark blond hair. He was wearing tan
slacks, a Polo shirt and a jacket that screamed Richie Rich.
“What the hell?” Kim, the girlfriend, snapped. “If this is another
mouse…”
Peter recovered fairly quickly and Caleb gave him some credit for
holding his arm out to prevent Kim from coming any further into the
room. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my room?”
The psychic smiled, standing. “I thought this was Sam Winchester’s
room?”
Sam was suddenly there, shoving past Kim, knocking Peter’s restraining
arm away. “Caleb?”
Sam looked scared, obviously assuming Caleb was the bearer of bad news.
Even as a part of him thought it was about damn time the kid showed
some kind of concern for his family, for Dean, Caleb couldn’t let him
think the worst. He shook his head, even as his smile widened
reassuringly. “Hey, Sammy. Long time, no see.”
Irritation quickly surpassed worry. “What are you doing here?”
Caleb was aware that both girls had now entered the small room, were
staring at him with almost the same intensity as Sam. They were a study
in contrast. Dark-haired and curvy, Kim wore a short leather skirt,
heavy black eye-liner and sported Ferrari red lipstick. Jessica looked
the typical California girl. Sunny blond hair, cool blue eyes, and long
legs showcased by a classic little black dress.
“You know this guy?” Peter asked, relaxing his stance.
“Sam?” Jessica moved forward, placing a hand on Sam’s arm.
“It’s alright,” Sam said. “This is Caleb. My uncle.”
“Uncle?” Kim asked. “Since when do you have a family?”
“Kim,” Jessica chastised her friend.
“What? You said you thought he might be an orphan or something.”
Caleb wasn’t surprised that Sam hadn’t told these people anything about
his family. Old habits were hard to break. He turned his gaze to the
girls, inclining his head. “Ladies.”
“How’d you get in here?” Peter moved in closer, bolder now. “Sam didn’t
say anything about having a guest over.”
“I introduced myself to your RA. She let me in, said it would be fine
for me to wait. ”
Kim snorted. “That’s Lisa for you. She’d let in a gang of hoods with
handguns if they were wearing tight pants and a killer smile.”
Caleb glanced down at his faded jeans with a frown, shrugging
innocently. “And here I thought it was my disarming personality that
put her at ease.”
Kim grinned, twirled a strand of her long dark hair. “Oh, I’d guess
your personality was the last thing on her mind.”
“Hello.” Peter waved his hand in front of Kim’s face. “Boyfriend.
Standing right here.”
Caleb glanced to Peter, sizing him up. “I’m sorry if I scared you,
dude.”
“Please.” Peter scoffed. “I wasn’t scared. Just surprised, that’s all.”
“You’re not the only one,” Sam said. He kept his eyes on Caleb. “I
wasn’t expecting you.”
“I guess not.” Caleb’s smile faded. He’d braced himself for the cool
reception, but hadn’t completely let go of hopes he would be wrong.
“You’ve been out of touch for a while, and I was in town on business.”
“What kind of business?” Jessica asked.
Caleb met her challenging gaze. She was wary of him, nowhere in the
vicinity of impressed like her buddy Kim. He found it amusing how she
edged slightly in front of Sam. Pretty, smart and protective -Sammy
didn’t even realize what kind of trouble he was in for. “Architecture.”
“Caleb has his own construction firm,” Sam added.
“Specializing in large erections?” Kim asked.
Jessica cleared her throat, fair skin blushing furiously. “Kim.”
Caleb glanced from Peter who he sensed was growing to dislike him more
by the minute to Kim. “Is there any other kind?”
“Can I talk to you privately?” Sam asked. He clamped onto Caleb’s arm,
gesturing to a room off to their right.
“Since you asked so nicely.” Caleb pulled away once they were alone. “I
got to say, Sammy, Pastor Jim wouldn’t be too impressed with your poor
imitation of a gracious host. You know he prides himself on having
civilized us with manners and shit.”
“It’s Sam.” Sam shut the door. “And I didn’t invite you. You didn’t
call before you came. Who has the problem with manners?”
Caleb dropped onto the bed. “If your invitations are anything like
phone calls or letters home, I would have been shit out of luck.”
Sam folded his arms over his chest. “What kind of business does
Tri-Corp have in Palo Alto?”
“I didn’t say it was for Tri-Corp. I had something to take care of in
LA.”
“So, you what? Told Dad you’d stop by and check up on me?”
“Johnny doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then what?” Sam’s gaze narrowed. “You really expect me to buy this as
a social visit?”
“No. What would possess me to do something crazy like try to keep in
touch? It’s not like we’re family or anything.”
“Look, man…” Sam sighed. “I’m trying to concentrate on school. You know
what that’s like, right? I don’t need any complications. My schedule is
tough enough and I have a part-time work study at the library. It’s…”
Caleb held up a hand to cut off the explanation. “But you’ve got time
to hang out in LA at what was it…an art show?”
“Jessica invited me.”
“Right.”
Sam’s face reddened. “Who are you to show up out of the blue to pass
judgment on how I’m spending my time and who I’m spending it with?”
Caleb stood. “You’re right. I’m not here to rehash old arguments. I’ve
had my say in the numerous messages I left, and that one poetically
penned letter I sent.”
“Then why are you here, Caleb?”
So Sam wasn’t going to acknowledge any of the attempts at contact. “Can
you drop the holier than thou attitude for five minutes, John Junior.
I’m not here to wreck the sweet set up you got going on. Your
girlfriend won’t find out any of your dirty secrets from me. ”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam defended. "We’ve just been hanging out.
And I don’t know what dirty secrets you’re talking about.”
“So, you’ve told your ‘pal’ Jessica and best bud Preppy Pete about your
Dad and Dean? Because they seemed pretty surprised to see me, almost
like they were pretty sure the stork just dropped you in the cabbage
patch.”
“I told Pete my dad was an ass and my brother was a drifter.”
“A drifter?” Caleb’s brow arched at the derogatory connotation that
word conjured.
“What would you have me tell him? That my brother hunts monsters, is a
member of The Ghost Busters Brigade?”
Caleb clenched his fists. A hundred different things to be said about
Dean came to mind, none of them deprecating and the least being that
Deuce was a part of a venerable institution like The Brotherhood. “You
fed Jessica that load of crap too?”
“It’s never come up.”
“Your family has never come up?” Caleb knew that was bullshit. He’d
done more than his fair share of dating. There was no way Sam would get
away with the mysterious routine for long.
“We’ve only been talking for about a month.”
“If Jessica hasn’t asked you where you grew up or what your parents do
for a living, she will. It’s called conversation in the dating world,
right up there with what’s your sign and what do you want to be when
you grow up.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve had so many years of practice in avoiding
those types of questions. Dad was right. Subterfuge is your friend.”
“Lies come back to bite you in the ass, Runt.”
“So you told Moose and your other buddies about The Brotherhood, your
life as a hunter?”
Caleb had told a version of the truth. A part of his life was more
‘presentable’ than what Sam and Dean had been given. “I wasn’t banking
on a monogamous relationship with Moose.”
“I told you Jess is just a girl.”
“Sure she is.”
Sam clenched his fists. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
Caleb took a deep breath, refocusing on his purpose in coming. This
wasn’t about Sam. “I need your help.”
“With whatever business you had in LA?” Sam’s frown deepened. “I don’t
think so. Dean was always your hard hat groupie. Why not recruit him?”
Caleb propped his hands on his hips to keep them from Sam’s throat. The
hostility was palpable and even though a part of him realized it was
residual anger leftover from the recent war with John, Caleb found it
hard to brush it off. “What happened to the kid who was always so eager
to be my partner on all those model bridge projects?”
“He grew up and went away to college to get his own life.”
“Yeah. Now I remember.” Caleb took a step toward Sam, holding his gaze.
“But I don’t need you to be my assistant architect. I need you to do
what you were trained to do, what you’re honor bound to do by the ring
you were given. I need help with a hunt in New Mexico.”
The look on Sam’s face was incredulous. He laughed, but the sound held
none of the typical Sammy warmth. “You’ve got to be kidding me? What
part of ‘normal’ don’t you understand?”
“Fuck normal,” Caleb growled. He somehow found the strength to keep his
voice low. “This isn’t a normal situation.”
“No.” The teen shook his head emphatically, took a step back. “In case
you haven’t noticed, I don’t wear the ring. I don’t hunt anymore and
there’s no way in hell I’m going to New Mexico with you. You had your
shot at the real world. Now it’s my turn.”
“I still hunted on the weekend. I spent vacations doing the same. It’s
possible to do both.” Caleb hardened his gaze. “And whether you wear it
or not, the ring binds you to us, to our world.”
“I didn’t choose to be a hunter. Dad chose for me. And in his eyes
doing both the job and college isn’t an option...”
Caleb felt his last tendrils of patience slipping away. He needed Sam
to do this his way. “John isn’t involved in this hunt. Come to New
Mexico with me. I’ll have you back before your first class on Monday.”
Caleb watched Sam’s face cloud over, the storm he’d been expecting now
very close to the surface. “Wait, didn’t Dean say something about doing
a hunt with you in New Mexico? Is this some kind of ploy of his to pull
me back in? Because if it is, it’s not going to work. I just clawed my
way out of that hell. No one and nothing is going to suck me back
down.” He ran his hands through his hair, began a tight pace. As usual
the Winchester anger drowned out everything sensible Caleb was trying
to present. “Damn it. I never should have called him,” Sam continued.
“I knew it would start all this shit up again and…”
“Don’t fucking flatter yourself.” Caleb reached out and grabbed his
arm, effectively halting the jerky march. “Dean doesn't know I was
coming to see you, and he sure as hell didn’t send me. But he’s the
reason I’m here. I think he’s in trouble and I need your goddamn help
to get him out of it.”
Caleb had the minute satisfaction of watching Sam’s anger flee in the
face of fear for his brother. The younger man blanched. “But you said
he and Dad were fine.”
Caleb hadn’t actually said anything of the sort. “He’s not dead. I’d
know it if he was gone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning?”
“You wanted me to spill the beans in front of your new friends?”
“No.” Sam chewed his bottom lip. “Why do you think he’s in trouble?
What aren’t you telling me?”
Caleb twisted the silver ring on his right hand. ”We were supposed to
meet up at one of my contact’s places this morning, but I got caught in
LA.” Something Caleb wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for if Deuce
didn’t come out of this gig in one piece. “I tried to call him to tell
him I was going to be running late, but he’s not answering, and no one
has seen him since yesterday.”
“Maybe he’s running late too, or just busy.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “That’s not like Dean and you know it. He’s the
one Winchester that answers his damn phone, or at least returns his
messages. I’ve left about a dozen.”
“Did you have a vision?”
It was Caleb’s turn to pale. “No, and I’m taking comfort in that. But I
did experience something.”
“What?” Sam moved closer. “What did you see?”
Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t see anything. I felt
something … heard it.”
“Heard it?”
Caleb wasn’t sure how to explain what had taken place. He’d been in the
middle of a crowd, not an ideal situation. His head began to hurt like
with a vision, but no images came as he felt a surge of energy when a
mysterious sound filled his head. He still hadn’t wrapped his own mind
around the experience. “Humming.”
“Humming?”
“Yes, Sam!” Caleb pressed his lips together, imitating the rumbling
noise from deep within his throat. “Just like it sounds.”
“Okay, so you heard humming. What did you feel?”
“I don’t know, damn it. It wasn’t like anything I’ve encountered
before…some kind of force.”
“Like The Force?”
Caleb gave Sam what he hoped was a ‘fuck you’ glower and the kid backed
off. “Okay. It was a unique event and you think it had something to do
with Dean?”
“I think it has something to do with the hunt we were going to work on.
And I have this gut feeling Deuce is in trouble. You do the math,
College Boy. We don’t rack up too many coincidences in our line of
work.”
“Gut feelings are not exactly scientific,” Sam said. “Tell me about the
hunt.”
Caleb nodded, taking some comfort in seeing logical Sammy overtake
angry Sam. “We were going to a little place called Taos. It’s nestled
in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range.”
A hint of dimple framed Sam’s mouth. “For a minute I was afraid you
were going to tell me you two were headed for Roswell on some freaky
quest for ET.”
“No.” Caleb smiled. “Taos is an art community-more flower children than
aliens.”
“So what’s in Taos beside a band of struggling artists? I’ve never
heard of it.”
Caleb reclaimed his seat on the bed, shifting uncomfortably. “This is
going to sound crazy, but we were looking into the Taos Hum.”
“Excuse me?” Sam arched a brow. “The Taos Hum? Like the noise you heard
in your vision? That kind of hum?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re hunting hums now?”
Caleb didn’t like the condescending tone. He tried to recall what it
was like to be nineteen and think you knew everything. “It’s not your
typical job, more like a favor for an old friend.” Caleb had also
thought it would be a good distraction for Dean.
“Let me guess, the old friend is a woman?”
“Yes, Celeste is a woman.”
Sam snorted. “Classic. You two were going to get laid.”
“She’s not that kind of girl. She was a friend of my mom’s.”
“Oh.” Sam took a seat on the bed beside Caleb. “Sorry.”
Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “She’s an artist, owns a little
B&B in Taos called the Dream Catcher. Bird still keeps in touch
with her and when she heard what kind of trouble Celeste was having she
hooked us up.”
“And her trouble is a humming noise?” The doubt was back, but Caleb was
sure he caught a hint of the old Sammy curiosity.
“Only certain people who come to Taos can hear the hum or so the legend
goes. Celeste has suddenly become one of those who can hear it.
Apparently, it’s not always a cool gift- not like death visions,
although some of the symptoms are similar. Migraines, nose bleeds,
nausea. It’s affecting her work.”
“So you and Dean thought you could find the source of this great
mystery.”
“It’s right up The Brotherhood alley. We were going to do some
preliminary investigating, then maybe let Pastor Jim take a look.”
“And you think the humming you heard in your vision or whatever it was
could be the same humming that a group of people in Taos claim to be
hearing?”
Caleb rubbed his neck. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I was
supposed to meet Dean at The Dream Catcher and then we were going to
head out to Tucker’s, but I screwed around in LA and now he’s not there
and I have no fucking idea what’s going on or where he’s at.”
“Who’s Tucker? Is he another artist?”
“No.” Caleb couldn’t help to smile at the thought of the big bear of a
black man sitting down at a pottery wheel or working over a kiln. “I
met ‘Father’ Tucker a few years back when I checked out the
spiritualist group he runs near Taos in a little town called Trinity.
At the time, I thought they might have some cult ties, but it turned
out they were legit. Tucker is just a do-gooder trying to spread his
message of all that peace, love and harmony shit.”
Sam bumped his shoulder. “I’m sure you were disappointed. I know how
you love a good cultist bashing.”
Caleb smirked, finding himself lulled into the familiar moment.
“Nothing like dealing a blow to the bad guys.” He looked at Sam. “So,
you’ll come?”
Sam looked torn, which destroyed the reprieve between them. Caleb knew
what he was going to say before the words slipped from his lips. “I
can’t, Caleb. I have a test and a major paper coming up before the
Thanksgiving break, then finals. Why don’t you call Bobby or better
yet, Dad.”
“I tried to call your Dad.” Caleb pushed off the bed, deciding it was
safer if he put some distance between them. “He’s not answering his
phone and Bobby is in Kentucky with Jim. They’re too far away. You’re
the closest contact in more ways than one.” Choosing Sammy to help had
been a two-fold plan. He wasn’t lying when he said the youngest
Winchester was the closest Brotherhood member in the area, but he also
knew if Dean was in trouble, then Sam would have the best chance of
finding him.
“Is this like that time with the Raw Head when you said I could find
Dean faster than you?”
Sam was nothing if not smart. “Yes. You may pick up on something that I
might miss.”
“I’m not a psychic, Caleb.”
“But you’re his brother.”
“I know that and I love him. But you know Dean as well as I do, he can
handle himself. He’s not going to be taken out by some mysterious
chanting in some artsy tourist trap.”
“I do know Dean.” Caleb strode forward. Dean was capable, but he wasn’t
invincible, as Sam chose to believe at times convenient to him. “I know
he wouldn’t even hesitate in dropping everything no matter how
important it was if he had even the remotest inkling that you were in
trouble. Goddamnit, Sam. He’s taken care of you his whole life. You can
return the fucking favor for once.”
“Sam?” A knock at the door heralded Jessica’s soft voice. “Is
everything alright?”
Caleb didn’t feel one bit of guilt for not maintaining his ‘inside’
voice. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sam.
The younger hunter stood and cleared his throat. “It’s fine. I’ll be
out in a minute.” He turned on Caleb, his tone changed, falling to a
hard, sharp whisper. “I never asked Dean to sacrifice anything for me.
You have no right to throw his choices in my face.”
“And you have no right to toss his sacrifices aside just because you’ve
invented a new life for yourself. You can’t pretend the last nineteen
years didn’t happen.”
They stared at one another, neither willing to back down. Finally, Sam
blinked. “I’ll give you two days.”
“I’ll take them.” Caleb pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed
it to Sam. “We fly out from LA first thing in the morning.”
Sam took the package, peeked inside. “Fly?”
Caleb shrugged. “Two days doesn’t give us time to fuck around, and the
sooner we find Deuce the better I’ll feel.”
“I’ll have Pete or Jess drop me off at the airport.”
“You do that.” Caleb started to go, but stopped and turned to face Sam
once more.
“And just to set the record straight, Runt, your brother’s been doing
just fine without you.”
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“You’re never going to let me forget that.” Sam shook his head in
disbelief. “I’m always going to be the bad guy in the scenario no
matter what I say or do. When you look back, Dean is all you see. “ The
wind was picking up, the last of the sunlight fading away and Caleb
didn’t seem to give a shit that Sam was miserable or that they were
wasting time, time Dean didn’t have. “Why even talk about it at all?
It’s not doing Dean one damn bit of good.”
“I love how Deuce is now your main concern.”
“What is your fucking problem, Reaves?” Sam growled, frustrated at
Caleb for questioning his loyalty and dredging the old argument with
his father. He wanted to punch the older hunter again. “We can’t change
the past. Saving him now is my only priority. I thought I made that
clear in Florida. All this demon shit has seriously fucked with you.”
Caleb continued to glare at him, seething with unrestrained contempt.
“This has nothing to do with demons.”
“Are you sure about that?” Sam punched a finger in Caleb’s direction.
“Not even the personal kind?”
Caleb knocked his hand away. “Don’t make this about me.”
“I don’t have to. You’ve always taken it up as your cross to bear. You
can’t tell me that Dean wasn’t the main reason you were pissed when I
left for college. You didn’t even consider it might have been the best
thing for me. You wanted me to come back, just to make him happy. Good
old Damien to the rescue, always there to take up the slack where I
failed. Where Dad failed. Isn’t that right?”
Caleb shoved him. “Shut your goddamn mouth.”
Sam shoved him back. “What was it you told me? Truth hurts? Truth is
you fell asleep on the job last time, and this time you were too
distracted and that's why Dean is gone.” Sam felt satisfied pinning the
blame onto Caleb. Most of the time Sam felt the blame being weighted on
his shoulders, but not this time.
He watched the older man draw back his fist. Sam prepared himself for
round two relishing in another opportunity to relieve some of his own
pent up frustration when the door behind them suddenly opened and Bobby
stepped out. “What the hell are you boys still doing out here? I heard
you pull in better than twenty minutes ago.”
Sam waited until Caleb had dropped his hand and turned to face Bobby
before relaxing his stance. He shoved his hands back in his pockets and
looked sheepishly at the mechanic. “We were waiting for an invitation.”
“You two vampires now?” Bobby took a moment to study the younger
hunters. “Come to think of it, you kind of favor the living dead.”
Caleb brushed past him. “Coming from a vanity plate like you that
really hurts, Bobby.”
“Watch the smart mouth, Junior or I’ll have no problem setting you up
with a matching set of shiners.”
“We got in a fight,” Sam said as he moved past Singer to enter the
house. “No big deal.”
Bobby closed the door, scratching his beard. “Hell of a time to go
looking for trouble at a bar, ain’t it?”
Sam cut his gaze to Caleb, unsure of how much he should say. “We
haven’t been drinking.”
Caleb didn’t seem to have the same quandary. “And this fight didn’t
require a third party.”
Bobby rocked back on his heels. “Dean’s been gone less than two days
and you’ve already been pounding on each other?”
To Sam’s surprise the mechanic started laughing, then punched a fist
skyward. “Guess I won that bet, Winchester.” He returned his gaze to
Sam. “Too bad your sorry ass Daddy ran out on us before I could collect
my hundred smackeroos.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked. He didn't like what Bobby was
inferring regarding his father.
Bobby turned his back on them, starting for the living room. “You take
the alpha dog out of the pack, there’s bound to be some gnashing of
teeth and spilling of blood, boys.”
“Alpha dog?” Sam found considerable consolation in the way Caleb’s smug
smirk vanished. The older psychic practically ran to catch up to the
mechanic. “Deuce isn’t the alpha dog.”
Bobby snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Junior.”
Sam joined them, making a point of taking his time and presenting a
much more constrained objection. “We weren’t volleying for some
position of power.” He wasn’t exactly sure what they were doing, but it
had nothing to do with who was the leader. Sam had no problem with
letting Caleb think he was in charge.
“Who said it has anything to do with power?” Bobby sat on the edge of
his recliner. “Wolves and dogs don’t do battle just for dominance. They
fight for favor.”
“Any more words of wisdom, Great Dog Whisperer?” Caleb snarled.
“Perhaps something useful this time? Like maybe where Dean is?”
Bobby didn’t seem chagrined in the least as he pointed to the pile of
books and papers spread on the coffee table. “I’ve been working on that
for the last two days.” He cocked a brow. “Where the hell have you
been?”
Sam didn’t miss the way Caleb seemed to shrink just a little under the
mechanic’s scrutiny. Despite their previous confrontation a surge of
protectiveness surprised him. “He was out of cell range, liked I
figured.”
Caleb shot him a quick thankful look before nodding. “I was working a
job in southern Florida. An elemental.”
“You let that thing get a hold of you? You look like shit.”
“I did most of that,” Sam said.
The glare Caleb shot him was priceless. “So, any word on Deuce?”
Bobby sighed. “I’ve got a couple of things rolling. Nothing promising
yet, but I’m still keeping my fingers crossed.”
“We don’t have time for wishful thinking,” Caleb snapped. “We need to
be out there.”
“Out where?” Bobby fired back. “You holding out on us tough guy because
the last time I checked a blind goose chase yields no game.”
“What do you know so far, Bobby?” Sam asked. He needed to pacify the
situation before Bobby and Caleb went at it.
“I know Griffin’s not involved.”
Caleb frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve had Ethan and Elijah checking into that angle. They know the man
better than anyone. Ethan called not long before you two showed. He
says Porter has exiled himself to his cabin in North Carolina, licking
his wounds after Gideon’s funeral. There’s no sign he’s been plotting
in anything as of yet.”
“That’s not exactly true.” Sam cut his gaze to Caleb and then looked to
Bobby once more. “We think he had something to do with Agatha Hennings.
Maybe he was the one behind her plan to use Caleb in her spell. But,
this doesn't seem to fit.”
“Kidnapping is right up his alley, Sammy. He had no problem with it in
the past.”
“As a part of a bigger agenda,” Sam pointed out. ”Killing you would
have disgraced Mac in front of the coven, taken out the Knight. He had
something to gain-the loyalties of the covens. So he takes Dean out
now, to what end? We know the covens are more or less with us now.”
“Then who? Other hunters? Rogues like Gordon who want to shake-up the
chain of command even further.”
Bobby cleared his throat. “I thought about that, too. I have Ellen
checking in with all her old contacts. She’s served whiskey to a hell
of lot of hunters over the years.”
“What about Boone?” Caleb asked. “He might have heard something.”
“Boone is keeping his eyes and ears open. We’ll be the first to know if
something turns up on his end.”
Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “Did you call Dad? Because I tried
with no damn luck.”
“Haven’t talked to him in person, but Carolyn assures me she’s working
on getting a message to him as we speak.”
“Where the hell is he?”
“Triad business.”
“Did you try Esme?” Sam asked. “She may know something.”
Caleb shook his head.
“I don’t want to put her or Josh in anymore of an awkward position
unless we have to.”
Sam knew Caleb felt guilty about the recent trade-off the Sawyer family
had made to save his life and was trying to honor Joshua’s request that
they not call him. “You’re right. We’ll save them for a last resort.”
“So who does that leave?”
Sam reluctantly fingered the elephant in the room. “There’s the deal.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Deuce has six months left. If it’s
contractually solid on his end, then it’s iron-clad on theirs as well.”
Caleb smirked. “And you blew away the Crossroad Demon, so I’m guessing
that bitch isn’t involved.”
“Not that bitch…” Sam’s mind latched onto the terrifying idea at the
same instant he watched Caleb’s face cloud over, the older man reaching
the same conclusion.
“But an even worse bitch,” Caleb added.
“Who?” Bobby demanded.
Sam looked at Caleb, his own dread and fear reflected in the other
hunter’s gold gaze. “Rose.”
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His body rolled with the gentle swaying, the warmth on his face and
arms lulling him. He could detect the presence of the sun above, its
intensity breaching his closed lids like morning light through an open
bedroom window. Birds chirped in the distance, their singing
intermixing with the soft lapping of water. A faint tingling of wind
chimes was carried by the light breeze. He was tempted to stay there,
drifting in and out of awareness if not for the damn whistling of a
familiar tune pulling at long ago memories.
Dean Winchester lifted one eyelid, then the other. The noise stopped.
He brought a hand up to shield his gaze from the brightness, blinking
to bring the dark shape looming over him into clarity.
“It’s about time you decided to join me, my boy.” Pastor Jim Murphy
laughed. “I was never one to fish alone.”
Caught somewhere between mostly asleep and instantly alert, Dean jerked
to sitting, his sudden movement incurring a more pronounced rocking
beneath him. He reached out to anchor himself, his hands finding
rough-flaked metal sides. He was in the faded blue aluminum flat-bottom
fishing boat from Pastor Jim’s farm. “Holy shit.”
“Steady now,” Jim said. He leaned forward from where he was sitting on
the long bench seat at the back of the vessel, held out a hand to help
Dean up. “No capsizing today.”
“Jim?” Dean looked suspiciously to the proffered hand, then to the man
before him. Same silver hair, blue eyes, and faded overalls he’d known
nearly his entire life. “Wha…Where are we?”
The pastor smiled. “Somewhere safe.” He winked, gesturing wide to the
pond they were floating on, the expansive green fields and huge oaks
before them. “We’re home, my boy. Home”
Jim’s warm calloused hand encircled Dean’s with a firm grip, and the
young hunter allowed himself to be pulled up from the bottom of the
boat where he stood on shaky legs before sitting on the other bench
seat facing the pastor. “Am I dead this time?”
Dean recalled his last encounter with the past Guardian. It took place
while in a coma, in the hospital after the run in with the semi. Jim
had been there to assure him things would turn out alright in the end,
to remind him of why he had to return.
“No.” Jim let his hand go, patted his knee. “You’re not dead. Just
resting, my boy.”
“Resting?” Dean frowned. “I don’t have time to rest.”
“But it’s Sunday.” Jim reached for the fishing pole propped by his
side. “And you know what I always say about Sundays.”
Dean nodded. “No working unless your ox is in the ditch.” He shook his
head. “But you never had an ox.”
“Exactly.” Jim picked up a metal pail of deep rich soil, placed it on
the seat near him. “Jesus was a fisher of men, you know. He would
surely appreciate the skill it takes to hook one of those tricky bass.”
It was the same excuse Jim used every Sunday to justify his absences at
any church functions other than required services. Fishing was
important. “The only thing you ever caught in this pond was a bad habit
and the occasional blue gill.”
The pastor laughed. “Now you sound like your father.”
Dean’s own grin faded at the mention of his dad. He licked his lips.
“Have you seen him?”
Jim met his gaze. “I’m not here to talk about John.”
“Then why are you here?” Dean looked around. “For that matter, why am I
here?”
“You needed me.”
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
“No more than usual.” Jim smiled, but Dean noticed it didn’t quite
reach his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve fallen into the hands of our
adversaries.”
Dean groaned as a surge of memory filled in the gaps. “You mean I’m
sleeping with the enemy.”
Jim ran two fingers over his mustache. “Yes, how exactly did you phrase
that to me once…you danced like wild chimpanzees?”
“We did the crazy monkey dance,” Dean corrected with a bit of
mortification. Jim had rescued Dean from his libido one other time
during a hunt in Boca Raton when a beautiful siren had led him into a
deadly trap. This was worse. “Damn.” He recalled the very hot woman
from the bar. The woman who kept him distracted with tequila shots and
hands like an octopus who later turned out to be possessed by no other
than the demon formerly known as Meg. “Rose.” He growled. “How could I
have been so stupid?”
“You would not be the first, nor will you be the last to fall for a
beautiful face. It has happened to more seasoned men-a couple of them
former Triad members.”
“Not you?”
“No, no, no.” Jim rested the pole across his lap. “I was only swayed by
one woman and she had the heart of an angel.”
“Miss Emma.”
“She saved me from many pitfalls of the human condition.” Jim dug his
hand into the bucket, plucking a wriggling worm from the black dirt. He
baited his hook, glancing at Dean. “But I did find myself behind enemy
lines once.”
“In the war?” Dean asked. Jim didn’t speak about his time as a soldier,
but the boys had found medals. The Purple Heart and The Bronze Star
were among them. There was no need to elaborate. Jim was already a hero
in their eyes.
The pastor cast his line, reeled in the slack. “It was a situation like
no other I ever encountered again. Not even with all the horrors I
faced in hunting.” He shook his head, propped the pole against the side
of the boat. “Not even in the face of my sweet Emma’s passing did I
endure such suffering.”
Dean swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes from Jim. “What happened?”
Jim leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I was a prisoner of
war, my boy. All rules are tossed out the window. My captors sought
vengeance and veneration. They hoped to break me. It was the one time I
felt abandoned by all. I am not ashamed to tell you in the face of such
darkness I feared losing that part of myself that made me human.”
Dean’s mouth went dry even as his palms began to sweat. “You know about
the deal, don’t you?”
“I know what’s weighing on your heart.” Jim reached out, covering
Dean’s hands with his own. “I always did.”
Dean tried for a smile. “The cost of being the wise Skin Horse in a
nursery full of idiots?”
“The price of fiercely loving you.” Jim tightened his hold. “A burden I
would gladly bare ten times over.”
“Even after all this?” Dean pulled away. “Gideon’s dead. I’m going to
Hell. There’s no one to be The Guardian. I’ve made a mess of all your
plans.”
Jim shook his head. “Plans have a way of unfolding in ways we never
imagined, my boy. It’s like scattering a handful of wildflower seeds
into the wind, having faith enough to wait and see what will take hold
and bloom.”
“You at least expect flowers…not a bunch of weeds.”
The pastor tilted his head. “Didn’t you once tell me that your mother
loved daisies?”
Dean hesitated, not understanding the veer in conversation. “Yeah. I
used to pick them for her out of our yard.”
“Weeds. The lot of them.” Jim grinned. “Beautiful, wild, but weeds just
the same.”
Dean snorted. “Am I ever going to win an argument with you?”
“Not using faulty logic, especially if it degrades one of the finest
men I know.”
“What if I’m no longer that man?” It was what Dean feared beyond the
pain, beyond his own physical suffering. “What if I go to Hell and they
twist me into something terrible, something they can use to hurt the
people we love?”
“Dean, if that were possible you wouldn’t be here now.” Jim’s face took
on a pained look of sadness. “Even as they wield power over your body,
they can’t begin to touch your spirit.”
“That’s why I’m here? Because Rose and her buddies are torturing me?”
“You sought a safe haven, hiding in plain sight, just like a jade
dragon.” Jim waved a hand. “Mackland would call it a type of
self-preservation technique. Not unlike the silence you used for a few
months when your mother died.”
Dean looked around them, dropped his hand over the side of the boat to
let his fingers slide through the cool water. He remembered that quiet
time when adults didn't understand and it was easier to nod yes and
shake his head no at questions. Baby Sammy understood that he just
needed to find his new place without his mom. When he was ready he
began using his words. “Makes a crazy kind of sense, I guess. The real
world always seemed so far away when I was out here. It was like I was
untouchable.”
Jim patted the side of the boat as if it were a living creature. “As I
recall, you did spend your fair share of time drifting aimlessly in
this old girl.”
Dean brought his hand in, flicked the excess water on Jim. “If I
remember that was something you encouraged me to do.” Jim was still
giving him gifts.
“I often felt powerless to help you. It was a battle I never seemed
adequately prepared for.”
“You did more than you know.” Mackland had spoken of his failings where
Dean was concerned. Neither man could have been further from the truth.
“More than I could ever repay you for.”
Jim cleared his throat. “If I could spare your life, deny you one ounce
of misery, I would make it so without any thought of consequence.”
Dean laughed, the sound catching in his emotion-constricted throat
emerging more like a sob. “That kind of thinking is what got us to this
point, Old Man.” He had only wanted to save his little brother. It had
seemed the only recourse at the time.
Jim smiled. “That sounded like a bit of Guardian wisdom.”
“Speaking of which.” Dean’s brows drew together; he wiggled his ring
finger letting the silver catch sunlight. “You should have told me
about a lot of things. Sending me out on silent voyages around the pond
was about as vague as you could get. Caleb had Dad shouting commands at
him for twenty years. Sam has Mac. And although I appreciate the
surreal as much as the next guy, your ‘Lady’ friend isn’t much in the
conversation department.”
“My only excuse is a poor one.” Jim heaved a sigh. “Being human I took
for granted the condition of my mortality. We all think we’re going to
live forever, even those of us who should know better.”
“So maybe expiration dates can come in handy.” Dean couldn’t garner any
real heat towards his predecessor. It was like trying to stay angry
with a doting grandfather. “At least I won’t take some things for
granted.”
Jim scratched his chin. “I remember Julian once telling me that the
only blessing his cancer brought was the gift of saying goodbye.”
Dean felt his eyes sting. “I can’t imagine telling them goodbye…seeing
what it will do.” Telling Sam and then Caleb about the deal he’d made
had been the two hardest conversations of his life.
“I believe Julian took some comfort in the fact Maxim went first,
sparing him that most unpleasant task of bidding his ever vigilant
protector farewell.”
Dean ran a hand down his face erasing the tears that had slipped past
his lashes. “If Julian was anything like Caleb then I can understand
that.”
“Caleb means well, as I know you understand. No one wants to face their
biggest fears, especially those rare few who believe themselves capable
of holding back the floodgates.”
“Sometimes I understand why Dad took the deal he did, got it over with
quick.”
Jim reached out, his rough fingers encircling Dean’s wrist. “You were
always stronger than your father.”
Dean was caught off guard by the words, by the sincere look of apology
he found in Jim’s eyes. “I loved him like a son, but he could not find
a way to get past his own pain. He never was able to find a safe harbor
in the presence of his suffering, even when it was offered to him over
and over again by you, by your brother.” Jim gestured once more to the
pond, the farm. “John never found his way home.”
“Is he home now?”
“Never fear, my boy.” A watery smile graced Jim’s face. He reached out
and tenderly cupped Dean’s cheek. “He’s with your mother.”
“I’ll never see them again.” Death would bring no homecoming for Dean.
“I’ll never see any of you again.”
“Sometimes what seems like the end is only an opportunity for a new
beginning. Something brighter, better can arise from the ashes.”
Dean shook his head. It was easy to see where Caleb got his idealistic
notions. “Like a phoenix?”
Jim’s smile grew and he patted Dean’s face before removing his touch.
“Exactly. A mighty jade phoenix. Hope is the thing with wings.”
Dean laughed a genuine gut-churning chuckle this time. “Only you would
try to give a pep talk about going to Hell.”
The pastor chortled. “I had plenty of practice considering the lot I
preached to - your father and Bobby being top of that list.”
The younger hunter sighed. “We miss you, Merlin.”
“I’m still with you-with Caleb and Samuel.”
“They’re trying to save me.”
Jim nodded. “They’ll find you soon.”
“I worry about them…if I’m gone.”
“Yes.” Jim met his gaze. “They will have to find their way, a new
common ground so to speak.”
Dean frowned. “They have common ground, they’re family.”
“Yes, but you are both the common ground they share, and the obstacle
they must overcome.”
“I don’t understand how can I be both?”
“Because you are completely different things to each of them.”
“I just want them both to be safe…and I know they’ll do anything to
save me.”
“I have no doubt they will figure it all out in time.”
Dean was talking about the deal, but realized Jim was speaking on his
current situation. It brought little comfort. “Promise me you’ll watch
out for them if I can’t.”
“I am already on the job, my boy,” Jim assured.
“Really?” Dean frowned, never one to put much stock in coincidences. “I
bet you wouldn’t be all that surprised to know they brought home a
stray…a mutt by the name of Boo Radley.”
“You don’t say.” Jim nodded. “An honorable name. I was always afraid it
would be rather confusing while I was around, but I was rather fond of
Jem. And of course there was Dill.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Am I? I thought we were discussing dogs. By the way, Atticus and Scout
wanted to tag along today, but you know how they are in the boat.”
Dean rolled his eyes at Jim’s lack of subtlety. “You mentioned
capsizing earlier. That’s about all the beasts were good for.”
Jim laughed. “That and scaring away the fish.”
“What fish?”
“Are you issuing a challenge, my boy? A friendly bet perhaps?” Jim
picked up his pole. “Because I have faith that there is a five pound
bass in this pond with my name on it.”
“You’re on.” Dean smirked. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.
Spending a sunny day fishing with Jim was a hell of a lot better than
the alternative. “As long as we don’t dredge up Jonas’s whale or hook
some freaky mermaid you forgot to mention.”
“Nothing so exciting.” Jim raised a finger. “Although I did manage to
bring this basket of goodies.”
Dean noticed for the first time the familiar picnic basket nestled by
Jim’s feet. “Tell me there are some peanut butter cookies stuffed in
there.”
Jim winked. “Burnt around the edges, just the way you like them.”
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