EdgeOfWinter5

The Edge of Winter

By: Ridley C. James, September 2008

Beta: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

A/N: The Taos hum is a real phenomena, and very interesting to read about. I'm sure I do not do the lovely art colony justice. It looks incredible. However, I have taken great creative liberty with the facts and places in this story to bend it to my own nefarious purposes which include a plot. ;-)

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Chapter 5/9

“Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime,
Therefore, we are saved by hope.

Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;
Therefore, we are saved by faith.

Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.
Therefore, we are saved by love.

No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own;
Therefore we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.”--RCJ

“Doctor Catherine Blake.” Sam flashed Caleb a look as he balanced his cell phone between ear and shoulder, digging for paper to write down the name Ethan had just given him. It hadn’t taken the police detective long to get the information they needed. They had only been on the road for a couple of hours. “And you’re sure she’s from Tuscaloosa?”

He continued to listen to Ethan recant the information from his contacts. “Interesting.”

Caleb, driving with one hand and using the other to finish a sandwich they’d picked up at the last gas station, took his eyes off the road to shoot him a worried glance. “What?”

“Can you email me the picture?” Sam ignored the other psychic and jotted down an address. “It sounds like the woman Dean was with, but I’d like to be sure. Yeah, he has great taste in women.” Sam put the pen down and pinched the bridge of his nose as Ethan voiced his own fears. “That doesn’t sound good. Sure thing. We’ll call you when we get there.” Sam glanced at Caleb. “You guys, too.” He cut the connection.

“What?” Caleb demanded, tossing his crumpled sandwich wrapper into the backseat where Bobby was snoring loudly, having succumbed to the mickey they slipped in his favorite flask. “What? You don't think Ethan’s on the right track with this missing person? ”

Sam wished that were the case. “No. It’s all starting to fit together. The missing woman, Doctor Catherine Blake is from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She’s a professor at the University.”

“But that’s good news, right? At least we have an address, a confirmation that Rose is most likely on the level about her location.” Caleb pointed to the notes Sam had taken. “She’s probably close by.”

“Did you know the University of Alabama has a top notch chemical and biological engineering program?”

“Not really.” Caleb kept his gaze on the road, but Sam noticed his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “And I’m not seeing the relevance at the moment, Runt.”

“Catherine Blake is a chair in that department. Apparently, she’s one of the country’s top chemists. Ethan says she’s the go to girl when it comes to the new frontier of biological and chemical weaponry-new interrogation methods. Her disappearance has caused quite a stir.” Sam wiped his mouth, sickened by the scenarios his mind was inventing.

“Like super-charged truth serum and shit?” Caleb looked at him. “That can’t be good.”

“I know.” Sam rested his head against the seat. “But maybe it has nothing to do with anything. Maybe Rose randomly picked this woman believing Dean would like her looks.” It was wishful thinking on his part and Sam knew it, but the alternative wasn’t something he wanted to focus on.

Caleb must have agreed because he favored Sam with a doubtful look. “If that were the case Demon-girl could have visited any Hooters nearby and body-snatched some uncomplicated bait. Unlike you, Deuce has never been one to use his conversation skills for foreplay.”

“True.” Sam rubbed his eyes. His brother was wicked smart, but could give a shit if the women he hooked up with knew the difference between chicken and tuna. Cup size was far more important than IQ. “It had to be part of her plan. She wouldn’t risk a high-profile identity for nothing. Ethan said the cops were crawling all over the area.”

“But to what fucking end?” Caleb growled. “She can read minds, why would she need drugs? Why risk more human involvement?”

“You can’t read Dean’s mind anymore, at least not about anything Guardian related,” Sam pointed out. “Maybe she tried in Wyoming and knew Dean was protected.”

“Still...” Caleb exhaled heavily. “It seems like she went to a lot of unnecessary trouble.”

“Let’s say she couldn’t get a reading on Dean. And we both know he’s not going to just up and volunteer the information. Maybe she thought she could get the amulet without a risk, like involving us.”

Caleb nodded. “But when she found out it was at the farm, she knew she’d have to bring us in anyway because she can't lay hands on it.”

“There’s another reason we’re skating around,” Sam said, his mind twisting and turning to make the connections.

Caleb took his eyes from the road again, long enough to meet Sam’s gaze. “What?”

“She wanted to hurt him without actually killing him.”

“I’ve always loved your optimism, Dr. Doom.”

“It’s something we have to consider. This is Meg…or Rose. Like most demons, she enjoys her job, but has orders not to kill Dean. Torture would serve two purposes.” Sam had witnessed what The Yellow-eyed Demon had done to his brother when it possessed their father. He had no doubt Dean would have died if Dad hadn’t intervened.

Caleb changed lanes as they approached a busy exit. “More of your big conspiracy theory?”

“I think we need to look at every angle.” Sam was tired of being played for the fool. He realized they were dealing with entities methodically evil.

“Right.” Caleb glanced at Sam again. “So what does the bigger picture tell you?”

“The same thing Dad used to tell us. We need to know our facts and then get in and out as quickly as possible to minimize collateral damage.” His brother was not collateral damage. He was their mission.

“We have a name and an address. Even if she is laying low from the cops, we have a starting point. Maybe one of us can sense him. We know what the bitch wants. That’s more intel than we’re used to.”

Sam folded the paper holding his notes, memories pulling at him once again. “It’s more than what we had in New Mexico.”

“Exactly,” Caleb said. “And look how that turned out.”

Sam knew Caleb was referring to the fact they had found Dean in time, but Sam’s nature to err on the side of logic was taunting him about luck and random chance, both of which were factors in his brother’s rescue then. They couldn’t afford to put stock in having providence favor them kindly. As Dean was overly fond of pointing out in a way that only he could, Fate was having a hell of a time making them her bitch. “It wasn’t our most shining moment, man. I believe Bobby summed it up best when he said, ‘even a blind chicken eventually finds a kernel of corn.”

“Bobby’s a pessimist.” Caleb glanced in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road once more. “His shot glass is always half empty. Jim would have told us to have faith.”

“Jim’s cup was always overflowing.” Sam loved the pastor fiercely, but recognized the man’s outlook wasn’t always the most realistic.

“What choice do we have? Sporting a piss poor attitude or wearing rose colored glasses we’re finding Deuce and bringing him home. Nothing’s going to change that outcome.”

Caleb was almost as steadfast as Jim in his faith in good triumphing over evil. “I’m only pointing out that Rose will be anticipating our next move. She’s put a lot of thought into this. This calls for more than a ‘seat of the pants’ kind of rescue.”

“You think that’s all I’m capable of?”

Sam sighed. He seemed unable to say the right thing, in the right way without causing more friction. It wasn’t like Caleb to be overly sensitive to criticism; the man had worked with John Winchester for too many years to take it personally. Sam wasn’t sure to chalk it up to the demon possessing or the guilt Caleb was feeling over Dean’s disappearance. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just don’t want you to go off half-cocked, thinking that the necklace is the only ace up the sleeve you need. In case you’ve forgotten, if you’re mortally wounded while you’re possessed you may stay animated as long as the demon hangs around, but you’re still dead in the end. That amulet doesn’t make you immortal.”

“I’m not an idiot, Sam.”

“No. But you don’t always use your head when it comes to Dean.”

“And you do?” Caleb shot him a look. “You can play calm and cool all you want, Scholar Boy, but I can feel your fear from a mile away. You’re just as fucking terrified as I am.”

“That’s my point,” Sam said. “Fear is our greatest enemy because it’s the one feeling humans have that all things supernatural don’t. They count on it to keep us in line, to keep us from going into the dark places where they rule. It gives them a power over us, a power we can’t afford to give away.”

Caleb snorted. “Did Yoda tell you that, Luke?”

“No. Dad did.”

Caleb grinned with a shake of his head. “Damn, I miss Johnny’s pep talks.”

He missed their dad, and often wondered what would have happened with the three Winchesters together fighting evil, but at the time it didn't look like Dean would survive and John had made a parent's choice. He understood their father’s decision, but now they would never know. “I’ve grown to appreciate their wisdom in retrospect.”

“They were definitely hard to swallow in the moment with your heart trying to pound out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears, and that sick to your stomach, about to pass out kind of feeling going on,” Caleb said.

Sam laughed, latching on to the shared memory. “And here I thought you and Dean swallowed his words of wisdom mindlessly.”

Caleb’s smile faded and Sam worried for a moment he had once again stepped on a landmine. But then Caleb took his eyes off the road long enough to meet his gaze and Sam didn’t see any of the anger or hostility he had encountered the last two days, only a shared weariness. “I loved your old man, Sammy. But it was far from being blind. I saw everything he did…witnessed every mistake he made with you and Dean.”

“But you still defended him.” It was the one thing Sam couldn’t wrap his mind around. His brother and Caleb both were stalwart in their dedication to John Winchester. “You stuck around when you could have gotten out.”

“For all his faults, John accepted me completely. For all he knew about me, he never once treated me differently. You can understand what that meant. Right?”

Sam swallowed hard. His father obviously knew about him, too, knew what Sam was capable of, but loved him and protected him in spite of the secret he kept hidden for twenty-three years. John Winchester had been a good man. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Caleb glanced at him again. “More importantly he helped Mac and Jim give me the one thing I wanted more than anything-a family. I could never walk away from that, or risk losing it. I’d do anything to protect it.”

The older hunter was referring to Dean and him. Sam knew all too how John used his protégé’s devotion to his sons against him. He realized in that moment that Caleb and his brother were more alike than in the outward ways he’d always thought. Their connection went beyond a lewd sense of humor, an obsession for beautiful women, and a love for all things hunting related. They needed a home and not the kind with four walls. They needed a sense of belonging. They longed for a family above all else, and would sacrifice anything to have it.

Along with that epiphany came an even greater realization. Sam was like them. He needed his brother and missed his father. There was nothing he wanted more than to have his family back, whole again, hunting or not. Sam would have given anything to go back in time to tell his younger self to smarten up. Dreams could come true, and still not bring a man what he sought. In fact, some dreams could easily lead to one big nightmare. If he had listened and paid attention to Caleb all those years ago in New Mexico, he might have spared himself and those he loved a whole hell of a lot of pain.

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

Taos, New Mexico, November, 2002

“Dream catchers work, you know.” Caleb watched as Sam ran his finger over one of the ornate wooden circles hanging from the front porch of The Dream Catcher Inn. “If your dream is to be gay.” They hadn’t spoken much the last leg of their journey, both of them still caught up in the tension they couldn’t seem to shake. Although Caleb was still brooding over Sam's verbal sucker punch, he was tired of the silence and would be the first to give in.

“Ironic,” Sam replied. “You making fun of a legend when our whole lives have revolved around myths nobody really believes in.”

“I have a selective belief system.” Caleb took a seat in one of the wicker rockers, making himself comfortable to wait for Celeste’s return. He and Sam had arrived at the bed and breakfast about a half an hour earlier to find a sign hung on the door proclaiming the proprietor would be back at one. “Besides, it would take more than some feathers, beads, and string to stop my bad dreams.”

Sam turned, leaning against the railing. “You’ve tried it?”

Caleb gazed out over the picturesque view of downtown Taos that the inn provided. He’d had little time to admire the architecture on their way in, too focused on finding Celeste’s place. “I’ve tried lots of things, Runt.”

“Dean made me one once.”

He looked at Sam, who had diverted his attention to the landscape. Caleb swallowed the lump that sprung to his throat at the mention of his best friend. “Did it work?”

“I don’t remember. Dean was willing to try anything to stop my nightmares after I found out about what Dad really did for a living and the truth about Mom.” Sam shrugged. “I lost it in one of Dad’s rushed moves.”

“I remember that Christmas he told you about your mom and the hunting. He called me afterward, a fucking mess. Deuce thought he’d screwed you up for life; so scared he’d done the wrong thing.” Caleb stood, unable to keep his energy contained in one space. He made his way to Sam’s side, touching a simplistic catcher done with black leather and white feathers. “The web catches the evil, trapping it and the good travels through the hole, down the feathers and into the dreams of the person beneath it. Right?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “That’s one legend. Others spin it a little differently, but the main point is that it keeps the bad things away.”

“I can see why Dean made you one.” Caleb met his gaze, recognizing his own worry in Sam’s dark eyes. He pushed aside the lingering feelings of their argument before. “I wish it worked. I’d make Deuce a few hundred or so.” Caleb felt he fell short that Christmas so long ago, unable to protect either brother from the inevitable. His failures carried over to the present.

“Me too.” They had reached their safe ground.

The bark of a dog had both of them looking up and out to the stone path that led to the hotel. A smiling Golden Retriever and an older woman approached. “Don’t be afraid, she won’t bite,” the woman called out.

Caleb and Sam shared a knowing grin as the two made their way up the stairs. The dog looked like Atticus Finch, and the only things Atticus was ever a threat to was unsuspecting bunnies and stuffed squirrels. “Unless you’re salesmen or those door to door religious types then all bets are off,” the woman said.

Caleb kept his eyes on the blonde as Sam bent to pet her dog, who had threaded its shaggy body between them, sniffing to investigate their scents.

“Are you Celeste Fair?”

“I am. And who might you be?”

Caleb studied the older woman with surprise. She was not what he had been expecting. Her silvery blond hair was cropped short framing her angular face. The gray tee proclaiming her a proud grandma of three dwarfed her petite form, hanging to the knees of her well-worn jeans, which billowed out at her ankles, nearly covering her sandaled feet. He watched as her light blue gaze narrowed, wrinkles forming at the corner of her eyes as her hand went to the simple strand of turquoise at her throat. It was a nervous gesture. She was waiting for an answer.

“I’m Sam Winchester.”

Sam’s voice startled him out of his reverie. The youngest Winchester threw him a puzzled look before offering Celeste his hand. “I believe you were expecting us.”

“Oh my God.” Celeste shook Sam’s hand, but her eyes were glued to Caleb. “You’re Amelia’s son.”

She released Sam's hand and covered her mouth, with a slight shake of her head. “I should have known you right away. The eyes…you have her eyes. And you’re gorgeous." She laughed. “I teased your mother endlessly about tempting fate by marrying your father. I said it was just the kind of joke God would enjoy, giving two insanely attractive people a hideous child.”

When Caleb didn’t speak right away, Sam saved him again. “It came out in his personality. He’s a complete ogre on the inside.”

Celeste laughed. “With the way Bird gushes and brags, I doubt that.” She tilted her head. “Although, he does seem the quiet type while Amelia and Isaac were both talkers.”

“I’m sorry.” Caleb cleared his throat, offering his hand. It was strange to hear his parent’s names spoken out loud, especially in familiar cadence. “You just caught me off guard.”

“It’s no wonder. I must look a mess.” The woman gestured to her attire before taking his hand in hers, clasping her other over his. “I was expecting you later in the day, but this is a pleasant surprise.”

“We managed an earlier flight. And you look fine, it’s just…” Caleb shook his head, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. The change that had him stunned was that Celeste was not twenty-six, no longer in the prime of her youth. “I didn’t expect you to be quite so old.”

“Caleb,” Sam admonished.

Celeste laughed again. “I’m beginning to believe you about that mean streak.”

“I…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Caleb said, feeling horrible. He had insulted his mother’s friend. “It’s just…”

“It’s okay.” Celeste patted his hand once more then released him with an understanding smile. “It’s the name. Celestial Skye Fair conjures the image of a youthful pixie. My parents were hippies,” she explained. “I named all my boys after notorious right-wing Republicans for revenge.”

“I bet that showed them,” Sam said.

“You know it did.”

Caleb cleared his throat, hoping to reclaim some ground. Dean was waiting for them. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to look at Dean’s room, and speak to you about the last day you saw him.”

“Now Dean is a charmer,” Celeste said with a quick glance to Sam. “You still haven’t heard from him?”

“No.” Caleb shook his head. “And it’s not like him to stay out of touch.”

“His things are still here. I’ll take you all up and we can talk.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Celeste said. “It means a lot that you and your friends would come all this way to help when you don’t even know me.”

“My mom knew you. That’s reason enough.”

Celeste smiled again, snapping her fingers for the Golden Retriever to follow. “Come on, Daisy, let’s get these men what they need.”

Caleb started to follow but Sam stopped him with a tug on his sleeve.

"What is wrong with you?" he hissed.

"Nothing. Like I said, she just caught me off guard.” Caleb hadn't had time to think of meeting Celeste, his thoughts focused on finding Dean. The encounter had shaken him.

“I know it doesn't have the same effect when we use the expression; but you look like you've seen a ghost."

As usual, Sam was annoyingly observant and obviously unwilling to drop the subject. The kid was tenacious. Caleb ran a hand through his hair, opting to tell enough to get Sam off his back. "Seeing her reminded me of my mom, okay. I guess I have this picture of her permanently etched in my mind and in it she’s closer to your age than Celeste's. It hit me she'll never get old, have grandchildren." He felt foolish for saying more than he meant to and guilty for even thinking about it when Dean was missing. He turned to go into the house. "Forget I said anything. It's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid."

Caleb huffed, appreciating the sincere look in Sam’s eyes, reminding him of a younger Sammy before the war with John. He couldn’t resist the chance to fall back to old hat. "Yeah. But you're practically a girl." Feeling braver and needing the levity, he reached out and shoved Sam the way he used to before the kid left for Stanford. "If you remember, the John Winchester pep talk goes…Suck it up, Reaves we’ve got a fucking job to do."

"Laugh now," Sam said. "But wait until I tell Dean how the golden tongued rogue bumbled his way through that little conversation with the fair Celeste. You'll drop a few rungs on his Smooth Operator pedestal."

Caleb was grateful Sam agreed to play along. He missed the old Sammy more than he was willing to admit. For the first time since arriving to Stanford, he felt at ease around the younger man. "Deuce worships me. Nothing you could say would change that."

"That's not saying much." Sam snorted. "It's hard to fall out of his good graces. Look at Dad."

And just like that the reprieve came to an abrupt halt. Even though Sam’s smile was still in place something about the tone of his voice had Caleb's defenses on the rise. "Guess that's a lucky break for all of us then." Caleb and John weren’t the only ones who were in need of absolution.

If Sam noticed the implication or change in tension level he didn’t let on, but he did wisely change the subject. "We should go look at Dean's room."

Caleb gestured to the door. "After you."

As they made the ascent up the iron spiral staircase to the suite Celeste had reserved for Dean and Caleb’s stay, the inn keeper told them about her experiences with the Taos hum. It was the same information she relayed to Dean two days before.

“Have you ever experienced anything like the noise before moving here?” Sam asked.

“No.” Celeste gestured to the right hallway as they crested the stairs. “And when I leave Taos it goes away.”

“Is it consistent when you’re here?” Caleb asked.

“Do you mean am I hearing it at this moment?” Celeste fumbled with the keys at her side.

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “It’s more tolerable in town.” She found the key she was looking for. “I guess all the other sounds drown it out, like white noise. But it’s still there.” A frown marred her pretty face. “Even in my sleep it stays.”

“What about earplugs?”

Celeste laughed. “You don’t think I’ve tried that, sweetheart? I have tried just about everything, as have a lot of the other ‘hum sufferers’.”

“So you’ve talked to others that have experienced the phenomena?” Sam asked.

Celeste stopped in front of a powder blue door. “Are you kidding? We have weekly meetings, almost like a support group. When I first moved here and heard about ‘the hum,’ I thought it was a bunch of malarkey, but my experience has definitely made a believer out of me.”

“Are all the accounts similar to yours?”

“Usually. Although the hum seems to be louder and more annoying for some of us. I have migraines, even a nosebleed occasionally. Others don’t seem to mind it so much.”

”Bird said you were thinking of selling The Dream Catcher?”

Her face took on a forlorn look. “Did you know your mother and I took a road trip here our senior year in college, stayed in this very inn? I fell in love with the old place. Amelia was drawn more to the sea, but I couldn’t get the West out of my heart. I don’t have one distinguishable drop of Native American blood, but their amazing culture and art have always called to me.” She sighed heavily. “Retiring here, selling my work was a dream of mine. I didn’t count on this phenomena interfering. I guess life loves to keep us on our toes.”

“You didn’t hear it the first time you were here?”

Caleb glanced at Sam, impressed the kid caught that piece of information. His mind was still locked on the idea his mother had been here, how life had thrown her the ultimate curve ball.

“No.” Celeste shook her head. “We were only here for a weekend.”

“Did the humming start as soon as you arrived this time?”

“No. I’ve owned The Dream Catcher for almost three years now. The humming started back in the spring. I went to the doctor thinking I had an ear infection. The idea I had become ‘infected’ by the hum never crossed my mind.”

“What did the doctor find?”

“Not much. He told me about the legend, which I already knew, gave me a sympathetic pat on the back and sent me on my merry way. I did some research on my own, hooked up with some others who I knew had the same problem. I found out that Taos isn’t the only place that this ‘hum’ happens. They’ve been blamed on anything from electromagnetic waves caused by meteors to secret governmental testing.” She looked at Caleb. “But I guess you know all that because Dean said you two had spent some time researching since agreeing to take a look around.”

Caleb nodded, remembering leaving that task to Dean as he ran off to California. They hadn’t really discussed what the other hunter had found. “What else did Dean say? Anything that might have given you a clue as to where he was going the day he disappeared?”

“He asked about the town library at dinner the first night he was here,” Celeste told them as she unlocked the door. “I didn’t have a chance to speak with him at breakfast the next day before he left, but he told Sarah, one of the girls who works for me that he’d be in for dinner, asked her to join him.”

“Let me guess,” Caleb said. “Sarah’s very attractive?”

The inn owner grinned. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she is. I believe Dean wanted to pick her brain further seeing as how she was a native citizen and all.”

“Dean didn’t show?” Sam asked as they entered the room.

“No. And when he didn’t return for breakfast the following morning I became concerned.”

“That’s probably when he missed a check-in with me,” Caleb said, recalling what he was doing when he noticed Deuce hadn't called him. It took him two hours to realize that Dean was in trouble. He rubbed his neck as the guilt began to build up again.

Celeste propped her hands on her hips, surveying the room. “He’s cleaner than either of my boys.”

“Our Dad is a stickler for organization,” Sam said, shooting Caleb a knowing look.

Caleb nodded; John was a stickler for order. You couldn't find things easily if there was a mess, and they usually needed time on their side. “Celeste, do you mind if Sammy and I take a look around in here?”

“No, not at all.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to make sure preparations for dinner are underway. Will you two be staying?”

“That depends on what turns up.”

“I hope he’s okay.” She brought her hand to her necklace again, worrying the center stone. “I mean…no one has ever been hurt by the noise. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him. I only let Bird call you because she assured me you and your friends were used to dealing in such matters.”

Caleb placed a hand on the woman’s back and gently guided her towards the door. “Don’t worry, Celeste. Dean’s good at what he does.” He forced a smile. “He may even have this whole puzzle solved before we track him down.”

“I hope so.”

Once they were alone, Caleb made his way to the large cedar wardrobe along the wall as Sam knelt by the first bed. He opened the doors, finding what he was looking for.

The closet was void of any clothes, but the cedar walls displayed an intricate mural made from newspaper clippings, computer print outs, photos and maps. Deuce had been busy.

“His gun and knife are gone.”

Caleb turned at the sound of Sam’s voice. The youngest Winchester had pulled Dean’s familiar green duffel from beneath the bed and had the contents scattered.

“At least he’s armed.” Caleb went back to studying his best friend’s research. “Of course Deuce takes his Glock and blade with him to take a piss.”

Sam repacked and shoved the bag under the bed. He moved to Caleb’s side. “Any clue where he might have gone?”

Caleb scanned the research, looking for anything Dean might have marked about the region. “Here.” He tapped the map. “Deuce highlighted Wheeler Peak.”

“What’s Wheeler Peak?”

He circled it with his finger once more. “It’s not far from Tucker’s guru resort in Trinity.”

“Your friend who owns the meditation retreat you were telling me about at Stanford?”

Caleb nodded. “We planned on talking to him about the hum seeing as how he’s lived in these parts for better than twenty years.I’m willing to bet your brother headed up that way to talk to talk to Tucker on his own when I didn’t show.”

“Did you call Tucker?”

Caleb shook his head. “No phones. The man is serious about what he does. When he says communing with the harmony of nature, he means it. We’re talking no modern amenities. They do most of their cooking over a pit.”

“Then we’ll just have to take another road trip.”

“A hike is more like it. The place doesn’t have an access road. They pack supplies in on llamas.”

“I can’t imagine Dean being thrilled by that.”

“He would have probably left the Impala in Trinity. If I remember right Tucker has an old army buddy that fronts his operation out of an outfitters shop.”

“Is the shop called The Holy Trail?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Caleb frowned. “How did you…”

Sam pointed a finger to the familiar neat script scrawled on one of the newspaper articles. Dean had written Tucker’s name above a dated ‘grand opening’ review for The Holy Trail Hiking Expeditions and Outfitters. “Dean must have made the connection between the shop and Tucker.”

“I might have mentioned it.” Caleb pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Bastard was probably dying to show me up. Wanted to get a jump start on things before I got here.”

“Let’s just hope his enthusiasm to prove what a great hunter he is doesn’t get him killed.” Sam tore the article off the wardrobe door and closed it.

Caleb closed the other door. “He is good at it, you know.”

“What?” Sam went to the dresser, opened a few of the drawers.

“Hunting.” Caleb folded his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling the need for vindication on Dean’s part. “He’s been working jobs with me, Bobby, and even Jim. He’s at the top of his game.”

“He should be. He’s been doing it all his life.”

Caleb huffed, not pleased that Sam didn’t sound the least bit impressed. He was also surprised Sam didn't want to know about their gigs- a lot had happened. He moved to the bed, lifting the mattress. He removed the black leather journal he’d given to Dean for his eighteenth birthday. A hunter’s journal was second only to the ring he wore. Caleb ran his hand reverently over the cracked spine. “He’s a natural at it. You should appreciate that more than you do.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam slammed the empty drawers shut, turning to glare at Caleb. “People are natural athletes, natural intellects. Dean has a natural ability at baseball, at picking up women; at being a pain in the ass…hunting is a choice. Dad’s choice.”

Caleb shook his head. “You still don’t get it do you.” He tapped his finger on the cover of Dean’s journal. “Hunting is as ingrained in your brother as breathing.”

“Says the other John Winchester clone. Forgive me if I don’t trust you to be objective on the subject of anything Brotherhood related.” He pointed to the book. “In case you’ve not realized it, that’s not a bible, and neither is The Art of War. Dad’s rules aren’t the commandments. Hunting isn’t our divine birth right.”

Sam moved to turn away, but Caleb stopped him, grabbing his arm. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is that my brother has gone missing in the mountains of New Mexico because he was following our crazy father’s crusade to right some wrong that was done twenty years ago.” Sam jerked his arm from Caleb’s grasp. “He recklessly risks his life over and over again for a cause that is both inane and illogical.”

“Saving the innocent, helping people is silly? Ridiculous?” Caleb felt mortally wounded. They were ideals everyone should live up to, not just the hunters in The Brotherhood.

“Come on, Caleb. Dean doesn’t do this job for the greater good. He does it because Dad told him to. He’s a mindless soldier in somebody else’s war. A war that will eventually get him killed in some bloody battle with not so much as an American flag or a twenty-one gun salute to remember him by, let alone a shot at sainthood. Dad’s idea of The Brotherhood is more cult than lofty cause.”

Caleb wrapped his hands in Sam’s shirt and slammed him against the wardrobe. Every fiber of his being was itching to pound some sense into the kid. His fist clenched, arm recoiled on its own volition. Only the faintest memory of a five-year-old Sammy clinging to his sick older brother trying desperately to instill whatever warmth the smallest planet Mercury could offer kept him from doing the deed. He lowered his fist. “You don’t talk about him like that. You don’t talk about The Brotherhood like that. Ever! Do you understand me?”

Sam shoved him, falling short of breaking the hold. “It’s the truth.”

“Whose truth? Yours? Since when, Sam? I remember when you wanted nothing more than to be like your brother. When you cried to go on hunts with him and your father.”

“I also believed in dragons, wrote letters to Santa Claus and thought you could keep him safe while I was gone.” Sam’s voice broke. “You were supposed to protect him, Caleb. I counted on that, damn it. Where were you when he was off trying to show you up? Where’s the great John Winchester now? Or your precious Brotherhood?”

“It was my job to back him up on this. The responsibility falls on me, not your dad, not any other hunter.” Caleb let him go, took a step back. “And I was off in the real world you love so much, chasing normal, Runt.” He shook his head. He’d been so blind. “But look where that got me-where it got your brother. Take a good long look.”

“The art show?” Sam said, suddenly.

Caleb watched the familiar light bulb moment, cursing Sam’s quickness. He frowned. “Drop it, Sam.”

“The new artist…that was you, wasn’t it? That’s the business you had in L.A.” Sam ignored the command, taking a step forward. “That’s how you got the tickets for Jess, how you knew the show would be ending?”

A knock on the door rescued Caleb from replying. Celeste poked her head around the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sarah’s here. I thought you two might want to ask her more about what she and Dean discussed.”

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. That would be great.” He licked his lips, forcing a tight smile. “Tell her we’ll be right down.”

Caleb slipped the journal in his pocket, turning to Sam. “Let’s go.”

“You didn’t answer me about the show.” Sam grabbed his arm. “Were you the painter?”

“You think you’re the first one to have dreams, Sammy?” Caleb pulled away. He’d been offered a golden opportunity and taken it without thinking it through. “We all have them. Some of us just don’t figure in the expense of having them come true.” Dean had been tempted in the same fashion, only with a baseball scholarship to LSU. Deuce had turned it down. Caleb wasn’t quite so unselfish. “We find out a little too late what it might cost us and that it might not be us paying the ultimate price.”

“You think Dean’s missing because you took a chance on painting? That’s crazy. More of Dad’s fucked up logic.”

“You said it yourself. I was supposed to watch his back. Now Dean’s hurt. Do the math, Einstein.” John told him to get his head out of his ass countless times. Tri-Corp was enough and it provided cover. Training to be The Knight was his top priority, not chasing after some stupid dream. Caleb should have listened. “Face it. Your old man has an uncanny way of being right, especially when we don’t want him to be.”

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“Dad was right,” Sam said, quietly.

Caleb took his eyes from the road to shoot him a puzzled look. “About the fear thing?”

“About a lot of things.”

“He was,” Caleb confirmed, carefully.

Sam shifted in his seat, turning towards the other psychic. “I didn’t mean to hurt Dean when I went to Stanford.”

Caleb looked even more confused. “Okay.”

“I really did think I was doing the right thing for all of us.” Sam picked at the black leather bracelet around his wrist, the image of Dean’s face from when they found him in New Mexico suddenly filling his mind. “And I wanted to be a lawyer, really wanted to be a lawyer.” He blinked away the painful image, exhaling. “Then I met Jess, she became part of that dream. I didn’t want to risk it, couldn’t jeopardize it all by looking back. Leaving him in that hospital in New Mexico was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. ”

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to be talking to about this.”

Sam didn’t miss the fact Caleb had regained his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “I think Dean understands.” He and his brother spent two years on the road, rebuilding, repairing. They were true brothers again, as close as they ever were, maybe more because of their father's absence. He and Caleb had not had that luxury.

“Dean would forgive you anything. Nothing you’ve done or will do is likely to change the way he feels about you. Trust me.” Caleb kept his eyes on the road. “But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to hear you say you’re sorry.”

“I've told him.” Even as Sam said it, he realized it wasn’t true. “At least I meant to.” What if he never had the chance to now?

“It’s not too late.”

He brought his hand to his mouth, chewed at the side of his thumb. “You really believe we’ll get him out of this?”

“I do.”

“And the deal…” Sam wanted nothing more than to hear the steadfast hope he could count on from Caleb.

“We’ll fix it. We have to.”

It really was that simple. Sam needed his brother. He wanted his family back safe. Caleb felt the same way. “Rose won’t be at Catherine Blake’s home. Discovery would be too much of a risk. Police and their questions would only complicate things for her.”

“That’s where your research of the area will come in and my part of the plan.”

“Can you track Dean once we’re there?”

“Maybe.” Caleb sighed. “ If I have a little boost. You know how it works.”

“I know it’s not your best talent, but you found us easily enough any time it suited your purposes.”

“I can usually sense those close to me. If I push I can get a reading on a general area where they are. It’s more gut instinct than ability.”

“It’s more than I can do.”

“Because you hold back.”

Sam stifled a groan. He was happy with his stilted abilities, and was tiring of the constant push by Caleb. “No, because I don’t have the skill.”

“I’ve seen you find Dean when I couldn’t.”

“I’d rather bank on your innate instincts than my fledgling abilities.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Caleb grinned. “Unlike me, you are Dean’s brother. That trumps anything I could pull out of my psychic bag of tricks.”

Sam knew the grin was supposed to take some of the bite off the remark, but it was easy to read the underlying thoughts. “You’d switch places with me if you could.”

Caleb flinched, his smile fading. “I could never take your place. Trust me.”

Those two words were both reassuring and resentful. “I didn’t mean…” Sam stammered, hoping to recant the sentiment if not the statement. “I just meant that Dean is the most important thing to you. Like you said about Dad, he’s why you stayed. ” It was lame, but Caleb seemed willing to cut him some slack.

“He wasn’t the only reason.” A faint imitation of his lopsided grin reappeared. “His kid brother had kind of grown on me, too.”

Sam laughed. “You make me sound like a rash.”

“Fungus is more like it…harder to get rid of.”

“I frisked Bobby for you to get your precious amulet.”

“I changed your diapers.”

There wasn’t much Sam could say to that. “Okay. We’re even.”

“We’re far from even, Runt.” Caleb reached out and turned on the radio. “I’ll need your help after the ritual.” He relaxed against the seat, pushing the accelerator a little harder. Sam didn’t miss the glint in his eyes before he picked up Dean’s discarded sunglasses and slid them on. “And you’re the one who’s going to explain to Deuce why the Impala has dog hair, fleas and drool in the backseat.”

Sam feigned a put upon snort, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure, give me the easy job.”

“Definitely a task for a brother.” Caleb turned to look at him once more, his eyes masked by the glasses. “But you’re right. I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

Without the ability to see past the shades, Sam wasn’t sure if Caleb was still joking or not, had no clue as to how to respond either way. So, he felt a mix of relief and guilt when Caleb quickly returned his attention to the road, deterring any further conversation by turning up the volume of the radio playing the latest top 40.

Sam rested his head against the passenger side window, watching the scenery blur. He swallowed the lump in this throat and closed his eyes, willing sleep to claim him if only for a short reprieve, praying no nightmares awaited him on the other side.

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“I keep having this dream.” Dean tossed his latest catch back into the water, watched it swim away. “Actually it’s a dream I used to have a lot as a kid.”

Jim peered at him from under the straw hat he’d pulled from his magically endless wicker picnic basket. “Flying monkeys or giant grizzly bear?”

Dean shook his head, a slight grin tugging at his mouth. “You still remember?”

“Oh yes.” Jim threaded his hook through a piece of raw chicken liver. “I finally had to hide that video of The Wizard of Oz to keep Samuel from asking to watch it. I feared you might never rest peacefully again.”

Dean reached for the container of bait, loading his own line. “I haven’t thought about those damn things in years. I guess I was lucky Sammy got over his Cowardly Lion fixation.”

“So I take it the bear has begun visiting you again?” Jim surmised.

Dean nodded. “Damn thing won’t leave me alone.”

“You’ve never been overly fond of the creatures.”

That was an understatement, but Dean appreciated Jim’s attempt to spare his pride. “They scare the hell out of me.”

“Yes. I recall your brother and Caleb took great pleasure in exploiting that weakness.”

Dean snorted. “I’ll never forget them hanging those honeycombs in my tent on that forced camping trip Mackland took us all on.” Dean had nearly pissed his pants when he woke to sounds of scratching and sniffing outside, felt the drops of honey drip onto his face, in his hair. Lake Silver Ring was known for its grizzly sightings. “I thought I was going to be bear food.”

Jim didn’t quite keep the smile from his face, but he gave it a good shot. “Perhaps if you had shared your nightmares they wouldn’t have been quite so zealous in their torture.”

“I never told anyone.” Dean cast his line, reeled it in a bit. He glanced at Jim. “No one but you.”

“As I recall it took some finagling on my part. The promise of a midnight snack, left over apple pie, a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Caleb and Sammy weren’t the only ones to exploit my weaknesses.”

“But I had the purest of intentions.” Jim smiled. “I only wished to help make you feel better, to erase the fear from your eyes.”

“You drove a hard bargain…and I was only seven.” Dean remembered the power the pastor wielded during his childhood. Sam was always enamored by the man’s magical tales of dragons, but for Dean the farm was every bit a protective fortress as Merlin’s made-up castle had been for his brother. He felt safe enough to let down his guard.

“If only it were that easy to get you boys to talk about what troubled you after you grew older. Nothing short of truth serum would suffice.”

“Dad didn’t exactly encourage an open forum where our feelings were concerned. Emoting equaled extra training.” And as he grew older, his father visited the farm with less and less frequency. Dean now realized some of the reasoning behind the change. He wasn’t the only one Jim could reach. John wasn’t immune to the pastor’s prying eye and open heart.

“Repress was your father’s motto.” Jim removed his hat, ran his fingers around the frayed rim. “Believe it or not, I embraced that same slogan for a good bit of time after the war. Emma would have none of it, though. She helped me see past the false illusion that stoic silence shows strength.”

Dean slipped his line back into the water, let the current take it. “It’s just a stupid dream.”

“We are all afraid of something, my boy. There’s no shame in fear.”

Dean rested his rod against the side of the boat. “That’s just it; I don’t even know why I’m afraid of them. It’s not like I was ever attacked by a grizzly. Hell, I’ve only seen one bear up close and it was my fear of it that caused me the big trouble, not the animal itself.”

Jim leaned forward, settling his hat on his head once more. “Which came first, the fear of the bear or the bear dream?”

“The age old chicken or egg question.” Dean wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. The sun was at its peak, hot rays beat down from the blue sky above them. It seemed much hotter than it had only moments before. “I really don’t know.”

“What happens in the dream?” Jim asked. “You never did tell me in great detail.”

Dean hesitated, but knew by the determined look on the pastor’s face, the man was dug in. “It’s always the same. I’m running along a path in the woods, not like I’m being chased, but more like I’m trying to catch up to someone. I can hear people up ahead. Dad, Sammy, Caleb…sometimes I even hear Mom’s voice, her laugh.”

Dean swiped at his face again to keep the heavy sweat from his eyes. “I can’t reach them; only catch a glimpse of clothing around the corner, a flash of their backs beyond the next bend. It’s like I’m marred in mud. But then their voices become clearer, closer and I think I’m gaining ground.” He paused, licking his dry lips. He suddenly realized how thirsty he was, and was tempted to ask if Jim had some sweet tea hidden in that treasure basket of his. “Then the bear shows up.”

“I see,” Jim said.

“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his palms over his jeans. “It lumbers in from the woods to the trail in front of me. The thing is fucking huge. A grizzly. It paws the dirt, snorting. A challenge, I guess.”

“Believe it or not black bears are supposedly much more aggressive than the grizzly.”

Dean shook his head. “Tell that to my subconscious, Merlin, because Smokey is definitely not there to check for forest fires.”

“Sorry.” Jim smiled, patting his knee. “Go on.”

“I try to go around him, but he stands on his hind feet. Even though I know the thing dwarfs me, it seems like he’s staring me right in the eyes, daring me to move.” Dean placed a hand on his heart as his chest constricted with remembered panic. “I’m so close to him then, I can feel his hot breath on my face, see the wetness around his nose and mouth. Then I hear the screams.”

“Screams?” Jim asked.

“Dad and Sammy are yelling for me…they’re in trouble. Something’s hurting them…tearing them apart from the sound of it. I want to go to them, help them. But the bear is there. I’m frozen. Afraid. I can’t move. Their screams get louder…they keep calling for me.”

“That must be a terrible feeling.”

Dean held Jim’s blue gaze. “Not as bad as when the yelling stops, and there’s only silence.”

Jim nodded, looking pale. “I remember the moment Emma drew her last breath. It was this strange mix of horror and peace. I was both relieved the sound of her struggles had ceased, yet painfully aware that she was lost to me forever.”

Dean rubbed his eyes, sighed. “In the dream I know it’s too late-that they’re gone” He laughed, though nothing about the dream or his current situation called for any humor. “The bear drops to all fours, and saunters away. Sometimes it seems like he was never even there. Maybe he wasn’t.”

“What do you think it all means?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” Dean cocked an eyebrow at the preacher.

Jim straightened his shoulders, gave a small shake of his head. “I’m not the psychiatrist, that would be Mackland’s field of expertise, but it would seem to me that a dream is as individualistic as the person who has it. What truly matters is the meaning you give it, Son.”

Dean understood what the pastor was saying, but still would have liked an easy answer. “I…I think it means I’m going to lose everyone I love because I can’t defeat the thing I fear the most and then I'll be completely alone.”

Jim studied him for a moment. “Did you know the Cherokee believe that bears were once human?”

Dean dropped his chin to his chest, exhaled. “You don’t say.”

“They have a great respect and affinity for the bear, believe it has strong magic.”

Dean lifted his head, rubbing at his temples where a steady pounding had taken up residence. “That’s really interesting, but doesn’t say much about my dream.”

“On the contrary, I believe it may explain a lot.”

“And that would be?”

“Maybe the bear is not your enemy. Maybe he’s there to show you something very important, something you don’t want to see.”

“Like what?”

“That it is not always your job to save the ones you love. That sometimes you aren’t meant to get there in time. Sometimes we have to let those we love face their fate on their own; you have to let them go. We all lose people we love. And as much as it pains me to tell you this, there are moments when we are all truly and completely alone.”

“That really stinks, Merlin.”

“The truth often does.” Jim gave his knee another comforting pat. “But as the old saying goes, it shall set you free.”

“Free from what? From Rose? From my contract?”

“I doubt if it is anything so concrete.”

“Figures.” Dean picked up his pole again. “I just wish the dreams would stop. I wish this whole damn nightmare would hurry up and end.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Jim held his gaze. “It might just come true.”

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