EdgeOfWinter7

The Edge of Winter

By: Ridley C. James, September 2008

Beta: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Chapter 7/9

"Forgiveness is loyalty to the truth of who you are. To truly forgive someone is to recognize who they are, to admit and affirm who they are, and to know that their best selves will be brought out only in the presence of an accepting and believing person.” Richard Roh

“Where the hell are we?”

Sam winced, flashing a quick look to Caleb as Bobby’s rumbling timbre echoed from the backseat. The other psychic grinned, which tightened the knots in Sam’s gut. They had left the river, turning off the bumpy road onto the main highway. “Sleeping Beauty awakes.”

Sam took a deep breath. “We’re in Tuscaloosa.”

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Caleb said.

“Damn. How long have I been out?”

Sam raised his gaze to the rearview mirror, watching as Bobby oriented himself. “A few hours.” He gave a nervous laugh. “You must have really needed the sleep.”

Bobby yawned widely, filling the back of the Impala as he stretched his frame. “If you two hadn’t kept me up half the night with your nonsense…”

“There was a time when the legendary Bobby Singer could kick some demon ass on a catnap and a strong cup of coffee; now you’re sleeping through complete states on the way to a hunt. Old age must be a bitch.”

“Caleb…” Sam strengthened his hold on the Colt as he felt the weakening of the connection with the other psychic. “Cut it out.”

Bobby clipped Caleb on the back of the head. “I’d advise you take your partner’s advice and keep the comments to yourself, Junior.”

Sam cut his gaze to Caleb. The older psychic turned to look out the window, but Sam caught the clenched fists, rigid jaw. He was fighting to stay in control. “You okay?” He wasn’t good at the telepathic communication, wasn’t even sure he had accomplished the task until he got the reply.

Caleb didn’t face him and the response was too quick to ease Sam’s worry. “I’m good.”

“What’s wrong with you two? Did something happen while I was out?”

“No.” Sam met Bobby’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “It’s just been a long drive.”

Singer snorted. “You both look like shit.” He turned his appraisal to Caleb. “Especially you.”

To Sam’s relief when Caleb turned to face the mechanic, the forced smile was all his own. “Don’t worry about us. We still have youth on our side.”

“I hope that youth carries your ass through this job because we’re going to have our hands full.”

Caleb’s grin turned feral. “I’m on the top of my game.”

“Yeah.” Bobby grunted. “Looks like it.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Caleb said, cutting his eyes to Sam. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

Sam flinched at the wording so similar to Rose’s earlier phone comments. He reached out again telepathically, taking momentary solace in the fact Caleb was still there. Bobby leaned forward, resting his arms on the seat between them and Sam shifted the Colt so it was hidden beneath his jacket. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Ethan called,” Sam said. “We’ve got the name of the woman Rose hijacked.”

Bobby turned towards him. “And?”

“Catherine Blake. Turns out she’s a prominent chemical engineer from the university,” Caleb said. “Her disappearance has caused quite a stir.”

“Why body snatch a well-known academic? That doesn’t sound very smart. Demons are smart.”

“We know.” Sam shot Caleb a look, worried they were underestimating just how intelligent their counterparts were. “We think Rose wanted to access Catherine’s talents.”

“I’m guessing you’re not talking about the nice rack she used to peak your brother’s interest.”

“We think she intended to manipulate Dean into giving up the amulet’s location, but now she’s torturing Deuce using the good doctor’s expertise.”

“Rose would have her own bag of tricks for that,” Bobby said. “As Ruby pointed out, demons are highly skilled in that area. They don’t need manmade technology to make a man talk.”

“But their ways maim and kill,” Sam said. “We don’t think Rose wants to let Dean off that easy.”

“Meaning she has bigger things in store for him.”

“For all of us,” Caleb said. Sam fought off a shiver his friend’s tone invoked.

“Did you get an address on this mad scientist broad?”

Sam cleared his throat, trying to focus on the dark road ahead. “We did, but we doubt if Rose will be hanging out there with the police involvement.”

“Then what’s our next step?”

“Ethan’s going to check into Catherine’s background, see if there could be a connection around town that Rose might utilize. I’ve researched the area for possible places and we thought…”

“That won’t be necessary now,” Caleb said. He leaned forward, opening the dash. He took out Dean’s gun, and Sam felt for the Colt, unsure of what the older hunter was thinking. “I can find him.”

“How?” Bobby demanded. “Your abilities don’t work that way. That’s more your Daddy’s game. ”

Caleb shrugged, holding the gun between his hands. He closed his eyes. “Rose isn’t the only one who can access another’s talents for her own purposes.”

“What’s he talking about?” Bobby demanded.

Sam hesitated, feeling the older hunter’s eyes on him. He realized they were about to be busted. “Bobby…”

Caleb tilted his head, his brow wrinkling in concentration. “I see warehouses, a rundown business district perhaps. The Yellow-Eyed One’s spawn is there.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Hush!” Caleb snapped, his eyes opening to reveal obsidian orbs. “Your droning on is not making this any easier.”

Sam watched as Bobby jerked, sliding further into the backseat before his accusing gaze went from Caleb to the rearview mirror where Sam read the surprise and then disappointment in his eyes. “I’ll be goddamned,” he swore. Bobby stuck his hand in the inner pocket of his jacket, jerking out the heavy gold chain they had replaced the amulet with. It had a rhinestone studded dollar sign hanging from the end, giving it the weight they needed. “You boys fucking fleeced me.”

“After they drugged you,” Caleb said, casually. “Which could always be an option again if you can’t hold your tongue, or possibly a gag would be sufficient.”

If Sam hadn’t still picked up the connection, albeit faint, with the other psychic he would have sworn the demon had taken over completely. The possession seemed to be some sort of symbiotic state, a strange mixture of both monster and Caleb. It would explain why the aftereffects of the possessions were so drastic.

“It won’t be so easy that I’m on guard, you son of a bitch,” Bobby said.

“I think you over estimate your abilities, hunter.”

“And I think you underestimate Caleb, devil.”

“On the contrary. I now know exactly what Caleb is capable of. I’ve gotten the grand tour.”

Sam saw the flash of silver from Bobby’s flask, the one without the whiskey and swerved the car into the emergency lane, shoving it into park. “Don’t.” He turned in his seat, holding up a hand to keep the mechanic from tossing the holy water. “Caleb’s still in control.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Bobby held the flask at the ready. “It sure doesn’t sound like Junior.”

“Trust me.” Sam touched his head. “I feel him. But he has to give the demon some free reign to use his powers.” At least Sam hoped that was all it was. Caleb should have explained the process better. Sam should have asked more specific questions.

Bobby slowly lowered his arm. “Like allowing a dog enough leash to perform the command you ordered?”

Sam slowly nodded, his gaze going to Caleb, where inky eyes blinked back at him. “Exactly.”

Bobby kept his eyes on Sam. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Sam wanted to hear Caleb say that for himself, but realized the other psychic couldn’t spare the energy it would take to offer a silent communication. Sam would have to trust him. It was a feeling that had always come naturally, one of those truths Sam had grown up counting on. It wavered only in his tumultuous teen years when the incident with the raw head and numerous other mishaps had Sam questioning everything he considered steadfast. Stanford had made it worse, reinforcing his skepticism and after the New Mexico hunt, Sam not only had misgivings about those closest to him, but more importantly began to doubt himself and everything he held sacred.

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

New Mexico, November 2002

“Do you believe in God?”

The question caught Caleb off guard. They’d been hiking for about an hour in silence, both of them concentrating fully in the darkness to keep from stumbling over their own feet despite the light cast from the flashlights and the half moon above. Sam didn’t stop walking or even slow down after casting out the odd inquiry, but Caleb could feel him anxiously waiting for a reply unlike when Sam was a kid tossing out random questions without hesitation.

“Yes.”

He was pleased when his quick, confident reply had Sam swinging his gaze in obvious surprise. “You do?”

Caleb slowed his pace, glancing towards the other hunter. “That such a shock coming from someone like me?”

Sam stopped, shaking his head. “Not really…” He shrugged. “Sort of.”

Caleb took a break, lowering his flashlight, slipping his water bottle from his pack. If they were going to stop, he was going to take full advantage of it so there would be no need to waste time later. “Why?” He asked, taking a quick drink. “Because I revel in the life of sin so easily?”

“No.” Sam shifted from one foot to the other. “I just assumed with all that happened in your past…I mean I know how Dad and Dean feel about Mom. They never talk about God. Only the bad things. The only time they go to church is if Jim guilts them into it.”

Caleb offered the canteen to Sam. He understood to some John’s only religion looked like revenge. Deuce was a different story; Dean had faith in his family. “My grandmother was a spiritual woman.”

Sam took the water bottle, raising his brow at the simple explanation. “I thought she was into Hoo Doo and fortune telling?”

Caleb laughed. “She was. It was a family calling. But she also went to Mass because she thought the Catholic ceremony was beautiful, reverent. She’d drag me to baptisms along the river banks in the summer for the theatrics, and to tent revivals for the singing. We once celebrated Hanukah.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “She couldn’t give me much, but I think she wanted me to understand that there was something bigger than us out there, holding us together, even if she didn’t know what exactly it was.” He smiled wanly. “Like The Force.”

Sam snorted, recapping the water bottle and tossing it back to Caleb. “So to you God is the Great Jedi Master in the sky?”

Caleb slid the canteen in his pack. “Maybe. I don’t care so much about the specifics, as long as someone or something is out there on the top of their game, keeping score, and watching out for the good guys.”

“Good guys like Dean?” Sam asked softly.

Caleb swallowed, holding Sam’s dark languid gaze for a breathless moment before giving a sharp nod. “Dean most of all.” He started walking again and Sam followed, but the silence seemed to be a thing of the past.

“Have you sensed anything from him yet?”

“No.” He sighed deeply. “And I’m beginning to get a feeling there’s a reason for that.”

“What?”

The sharp catch in Sam’s voice told Caleb that Sam had drawn the wrong conclusion. They both had done their fair share of that recently. “Not that reason, Runt. I know he’s not dead.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?” Sam came alongside Caleb, their shoulders brushing on the narrow trail.

“Maybe this group has safeguards in place.”

“Safeguards?” Sam huffed. “I’m not following.”

Caleb took his gaze from the trail long enough to glance at Sam. “There are ways and reasons to keep a place protected from more than your run of the mill, nosy trespassing types.”

“Some kind of spell?”

“Considering their Christian affiliation, I’m guessing these guys would prefer the terms blessing or consecration, but yeah, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. What if this brotherhood took precautions to keep any unsavory types out?”

Caleb could almost feel the wheels turning in Sam’s head. “If you’re right and there’s some kind of protective barrier around their sanctuary, then it would stand to reason when we cross over it, you should be able to pick up on Dean.”

“Or you will,” Caleb said.

Sam stopped again, caught Caleb’s sleeve forcing him to do the same. “Why do you keep insisting I can do that? I’m not psychic. I’m not like you.”

“I know. You’re nothing like me.” Caleb pulled away, clenching his jaw at the obvious distaste in Sam’s tone. The urge to tell Sam they were more alike than he imagined was as strong as it had ever been. Only his promise to John kept him quiet, and the nagging suspicion if Sam knew the truth it would drive him further away from hunting, from his family, from Dean. He took a calming breath. “Just don’t shut out the possibility that your bond with Dean is strong enough to warrant a response. You might surprise yourself.”

Sam finally nodded. “At least you didn’t say ‘Feel The Force, Luke’.”

Caleb snorted as they both resumed their hike. “As if I would say something that cheesy.”

“Of course not,” Sam said. “What was I thinking?”

“I don’t know, but I’m thinking we have to be getting close to this temple, and if that’s true then...”

“Dean could be nearby.”

Caleb nodded. “I’m guessing the grade continues to get steeper, and the trail narrower. The peak should be nearby. If Deuce lost his footing…”

Sam looked off to their right where the trail dropped off. Caleb read his thoughts. It didn’t take much of an imagination to conjure the mountain face below them littered with rocky ledges and scattered jutting trees. He was thinking the same thing. “He could be down there somewhere.”

“Let’s keep moving.” Caleb shoved aside the spike of fear so not to cloud his senses. “Focus on finding Dean alive and well.”

“It’s hard to concentrate,” Sam said. “I can’t focus.”

“Try. That’s all I’m asking.” Even as Caleb said it he wondered if Sam would register something he couldn’t, an act of desperation on his part. “Keep an open mind.”

He should have told him to keep his eyes peeled too because ten minutes later Sam tripped, sprawling face first along the trail with a grunt and a curse.

“You alright, kid?” Caleb panned the flashlight in front of him, quickening his step to make it to Sam, ten yards ahead. The younger man was struggling to his knees, brushing rocks and dirt from his palms.

“Watch your step,” he growled. “I tripped on something.”

“Your enormous size twelves, maybe?” Caleb offered with a small laugh now that he was sure Sam was indeed okay.

“No!” Sam stood. “This.”

Caleb shone his light on what Sam was holding. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“I knew I brought you along for a reason. Your clumsiness paid off.”

“What is it?”

“A Witch’s Purse.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.” Caleb took the burlap sack Sam held out. “I’m not. This is some serious Hoo Doo. These guys aren’t messing around.”

“It’s an old burlap sack.”

“Said the guy who believes in dream catchers. It’s not a fashion statement. Think mojo bag just on a much larger scale. The magic’s inside.” Caleb shoved the flashlight towards the teen and tore at the twine, dumping the contents on the ground beside them. “I’ve seen my grandmother make them.”

“Gross.” Sam stepped back as some sort of animal bones and rocks fell to the ground, and a plume of ash billowed up from the carnage. “What is that?”

“Lots of things.” Caleb knelt down digging through the mess. He picked up what looked like an animal femur bone and tossed it aside, lifting a handful of smooth stones. “Snowflake obsidian and blood stone.” He glanced up at Sam. “Explains the psychic dead zone. The rest is herbs and other shit, depending on what else they wanted to keep out. It all adds up to one hell of a security system.”

“But these men are from the church.”

“Pagan rituals are heavy in a lot of religions. All of it leads back to the same place and not all magic is dark magic.” Caleb stood, pointing his flashlight to one of the tree limbs. “I bet it was hanging up there.”

Sam followed his gaze. A rope swung in the wind. “You think Dean took it down?”

“I think it’s a good bet.” Caleb picked up The Witch’s Purse, pointing to the remnants of twine. “He might not have known what it was, but the rope has been cut clean through.” Caleb dropped the bag, kicking the remnants away and stepping past them. “Now maybe we can get somewhere.”

The words had no sooner left his mouth than he felt the psychic punch, a line to Dean zinging to awareness. He brought his hand to his head as feelings flowed in like water from a faucet. Deuce was nearby and in trouble. Fear as well as pain came through the link loud and clear, stealing his breath.

“Caleb.” Sam touched his arm, grounding him. “What’s wrong?”

Caleb blinked, took a shaky breath. “He’s here.”

“Dean? You feel him now?”

Caleb nodded. “Come on.” He didn’t have his father’s talents for search and rescue, but he could use his telepathy like a metal detector, the intensity of feeling like the machines beeps would grow stronger the closer he came to whomever he was connecting with. Caleb used it to hunt the baddies that connected with him in visions and it never had hurt in a game of hide and seek when they were younger. “Deuce is close by.”

Sam didn’t hesitate or ask any more questions as they stumbled along the trail towards the peak. Only after Caleb stopped at a sharp angle in the path and kneeled in the dirt, did Sam speak. “What? Is this it?”

Caleb held up a hand to silence the younger man as he lay down on his belly and inched his way to the edge of the trail, hanging his upper body over the vegetation-covered side. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled, “Dean! Can you hear me? Dean!”

He felt Sam drop beside him, lending his voice to Caleb’s. Soon they were both screaming into the darkness, panning their lights through the thick forest below. He wasn’t sure his senses were holding true until Sam’s hand found his forearm again, squeezing hard.

“Did you hear that? I thought I heard something.”

Caleb cocked his head to the side, straining to locate any sound beyond nature’s cacophony. It was faint, muffled but the word help was distinguishable, carried to them from somewhere below. Most importantly, it was Dean’s voice. “Deuce, hang in there man. We’re on our way.”

“It’s a sheer drop. We’re going to have to repel down there,” Sam said.

“Good thing I wasted my money on all that equipment I bought at The Holy Trail.” Caleb wasn’t above tossing Sam’s words back at him with a small amount of satisfaction.

Sam snorted. “You would think you’re psychic or something.”

Caleb grinned, unable to fight off the immense relief at finding Dean alive and although hurt, at least conscious and able to respond to them. “For being a smart ass, you’re setting the anchor and going first.”

He dropped the last two feet to the ground, unclipping his carabineer from the rappelling line. Sam released the main rope, and Caleb quickly slipped out of his harness. He glanced up the rock face they had descended, marveling at Deuce’s ability to find trouble. If the kid was on this first ledge he’d still taken a hell of a fall and was damn lucky Fate had seen fit to place such a large outcropping to keep him from going any further. The landing would not have been pleasant.

“Any signs of him?”

Sam shook his head, looking around. “This ledge extends for a ways. I’m willing to bet there are caves here.”

Caleb picked up the first aid kit they had lowered down before them. He’d left his pack up top incase he needed to piggy back Dean out of there. “Like that fucking mountain Johnny had us repel a few years back.”

Sam met his gaze, his face twisted with unpleasant memories. “Black Rock at Joshua Tree where I got to be the belay slave. Loads of fun.”

Caleb shrugged, turning his flashlight on and edging past Sam. “In your old man’s defense, he didn’t know the electrical storm would blow in. Those deep caverns saved our asses.”

“Let’s hope Dean has the same dumb luck as Dad.”

Caleb didn’t reply, instead calling out for his friend as they moved forward. Dean’s name echoed around before a weak ‘in here’ was heard.

Sam and Caleb both picked up their pace, careful of stumbling in the dark and plummeting from the ledge. “There!” Sam pointed his flashlight along the side of the mountain, where a sharp overhang jutted from the facing like a sun visor. “At least he found shelter.” The rocks looked as if they were scooped out, enough of a shallow cave to offer some protection from the weather and a respite from the ledge

“Dean,” Sam yelled as they made it to the mouth of the grotto. Caleb stepped over the remnants of a long dead campfire, marveling at Dean’s ingenuity in a crisis. The temperature in the mountains at night had to hover around twenty degrees with usual snowfall. Caleb was beyond thankful for the warm spell that had people wearing t-shirts far beyond the typical November season. Still, it worried him that Dean was unable to maintain a heat source for the entire time he’d been stuck.

“Damien?”

The familiar nickname had Caleb’s heart racing as he panned his light around the cavern. Dean was huddled against the furthest wall, his upper body covered with his jacket, and a space blanket.

“Deuce.” Caleb felt the younger man’s pain stronger now, pouring off his friend in waves. He mentally pulled back as the intensity threatened his ability to stay clearheaded.

“Dean.”

He and Sam reached him at the same time with Sam going to his knees beside Caleb. They both turned their flashlights up to sit, lantern-like on their ends, illuminating the small space. Dean looked pale and sickly in the garish yellow glow. He was shivering beneath the covering, his skin glistening with sweat, but when his gaze found Caleb’s his green eyes held recognition, even if his voice was raspy and weak. “About damn time you showed up.”

Caleb laughed in relief, reaching out to rest a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you too, Deuce.” He glanced around the area, noting the empty water bottles and crumpled bag of M&M’s. “Looks like you had rations to wait me out.”

“Dean,” Sam said. “Where are you hurt?”

Caleb frowned when the older Winchester didn’t even look at his brother. “I knew you’d take your time, Damien…but I started to worry you’d met a woman along the way when the last of the water was gone last night.”

“No broads before Brotherhood, Dude.” Caleb glanced to Sam who continued to stare anxiously at Dean. “We got here as soon as we could. It wasn’t exactly like you left us a note or anything as blatant as a trail of bread crumbs.”

Dean closed his eyes, with a groan. “We? Please tell me you didn’t drag Dad into this.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked.

Caleb didn’t miss the accusing tone, but held off on snapping back because of the hurt he could see reflected in Sam’s dark gaze. He moved his hand to Dean’s forehead, leaning closer to get a better look. The kid was burning up. “Dean, Sammy’s with me. He’s right here.”

Dean blinked, surprise registering on his pinched features as he struggled to push himself up. “You can see him? Hear him?”

“Easy. Don’t move.” Caleb kept a hand on his chest. “Of course I can see and hear him.”

Dean gave into the restraint, panting at his exertion. His eyes locked on Sam. “You’re here? For real?”

Sam lifted a hand, rested it against his brother’s face. “Of course I’m real. What did you think I was?”

“A ghost…my imagination,” Dean said. He frowned, licking his dry lips. “You’ve been here before…the first night, and this morning…but you kept leaving.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve been with Caleb. I wasn’t here.”

“I know…I was alone.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Caleb didn’t like the sound of Dean’s voice or the way he was trembling. Never mind the stab of guilt his words brought. “We’re here now.”

“Where are you hurt?” Sam repeated his earlier question.

“I fell,” Dean said. “Fucking bear scared the shit out of me and I took one step too many…How did you get here, Sam? Why are you here?”

Caleb’s worry grew. Dean wasn’t as cognizant as he first thought. “We kind of gathered that you didn’t climb down here for some solitude, kiddo. What we don’t know is what suffered in the landing. You’re not lucky enough to have landed on your head, which is like reinforced steel.”

Dean looked at him. “I slid more than fell.” He lifted one arm, making the act look like a feat of sheer will. The appendage was littered with abrasions and small cuts. “All of me looks like this, only worse.” His gaze returned to his brother. “What about school?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Sam said.

“But your classes…you said you were busy.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

Caleb carefully ran his finger over a nasty-looking cut on Dean’s forehead, prodding the huge lump, before gently grasping his chin to study the younger hunter’s green gaze. Nothing looked too serious. Dean’s pupils were normal and the cuts had stopped bleeding on their own. “What kept you from climbing your ass out of here?” Dean was no Gumby; he was proficient in climbing because John considered it a life skill.

“Busted some ribs.” Dean closed his eyes. “Broke my fucking leg, Damien.”

“That sounds about right.” Caleb sighed, gently sliding his hands along Dean’s ribs and abdomen, ignoring the whimper his touch brought. “Any neck or back pain?”

Dean winced. “Nothing that kept me from crawling in here.” His eyes went to Sam again. “Does Dad know you’re here, Sammy?”

Sam shook his head. “I came for you.”

Dean exhaled heavily. “It’s so fucking good to see you, little brother.”

Caleb picked up one of the flashlights, ignoring the worried look Sam was giving him. He moved to examine Dean’s legs. “Which one, Deuce?”

Dean waved him off. “I don’t remember. You’ll figure it out.”

Caleb panned the light across his friend’s jean-clad legs, swearing as he saw the blood-stained denim of Dean’s left leg. “Shit.”

“Caleb?” Sam said.

“You can’t do anything the easy way, can you?” Caleb put down the lantern, removing the knife from his ankle sheath. He already knew what he was going to find before he sliced the material. The open fracture explained the fever. They were damn lucky the puncture that was in the Dean’s calf hadn’t hit any arteries. Dean could have bled to death.

Despite the care Caleb took not to jostle the broken appendage, Dean cried out when he tried to get a better angle of the wound. “Sorry, kiddo.”

“How bad?” Sam asked.

Despite Dean’s half-delirious state he must have picked up on the same fear Caleb detected in Sam’s voice. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he panted. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said. “You’re nowhere in the vicinity of fine, Dean.”

“Sam,” Caleb warned, also picking up on the familiar anger laced in the teen’s tone. He knew Sam was scared, worried. It was never easy seeing Dean out of his element. He was the strong one, the one who kept it all together for Sam over the years, more parent than John most days. Caleb kept his voice calm, despite the fact his own concern had notched up. “We need to get him out of here. ASAP.”

Sam’s head whipped, his glare pinning Caleb. “What’s wrong?”

Caleb ran a hand over his mouth, sitting back on his haunches. “Compound break. Few centimeters of bone poking through the back of his leg.”

“Shit.” Caleb watched Sam’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Infection?”

“Probably.”

“But that means…”

“Damn bear,” Dean said. “Smokey…has it in for me.”

Caleb looked down the length of his friend’s body. “I can use part of your pack’s metal frame for a stabilization splint before we risk moving him out of here. There’s some morphine in Mac’s bag.” Dean didn’t appear to have a concussion, but the high fever was tricky. The pain the move would cause could increase the chances of shock, so they would have to take the risk and use the drug.

“I’ll get the first aid kit.” Sam made to stand.

“No.” Dean caught his hand, clung to it. “Don’t go, Sammy.”

“It’s okay.” Caleb nodded to Sam. “Stay with him. I’ll get what we need.”

“Damien…” Dean’s panicked gaze locked on him.

“Nobody’s leaving without you.” Dean blinked, relaxing against the cave floor where he continued to shiver. Caleb slipped out of his jacket, adding it to the blanket and Dean’s coat. “We’re going to get you warmed up and then off this fucking mountain.”

Dean licked his lips. “Ran out of things to burn.”

Caleb shook his head. “What? You didn’t gather fire wood before taking your two day siesta? Good way to lose that Boy Scout merit badge.”

Dean tried to laugh but it broke on a gasp of pain. “Don’t tell Dad I was laying down on the job…don't tell Dad anything.”

Caleb noticed Dean hadn’t released the death grip on Sam’s hand and the youngest Winchester was looking almost as pale as Dean. “My lips are sealed, Dude. But why don’t you get Sammy to tell you about his hot girlfriend he’s been hiding at Stanford. It’s no wonder he hasn’t asked you to visit. The girl’s so out of his league.”

“Jessica?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded. “You remembered her name?”

“I remember everything,” Dean said.

Caleb stood. Dean had told him about the one and only phone call from his brother. That six minute call had had given Dean more hope than Caleb had been able to inspire in six months.

“Damien said you’d come back, Sammy.”

Dean’s words carried to Caleb as he made fast work of gathering what he would need. Bone infections were deadly, taking life or limb, sometimes both. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Sam hesitated. “I’m always here if you need me.”

“I wasn’t so sure…. that night you left…the things Dad said.”

Caleb jerked the framing free with more force than necessary. Dean believed Sam was through with their family that first night after his brother left for Stanford. Caleb worked hard to keep Dean’s mind occupied afterward, waiting for Sam’s call that never came.

John allowed his son to grieve Sam’s leaving for three days before he showed up in New York, hung over and more determined to drag the one son he could control back into the fray. Caleb argued Dean didn’t have to leave; maybe he should stay with him for while, or even better go see Sam to set his mind at ease. Dean, desperate to hold onto the last remnants of his battled ravaged family, had gone with his father. That night began the six month roller coaster ride that brought them to this point, this disastrous crash site that left Dean mangled.

“You asked her out?”

“Yeah. I took your advice.”

“How much you want to bet he came home with another rodent from that first date, Deuce?” Caleb asked. He was referencing the time they had sent Sam off with a girl from The Red Caboose, thinking he would lose his virginity. The kid hadn’t come back with a juicy story to tell, but with a damn hamster in a cage. He knew Dean would get a kick out of the memory with the added bonus of pissing off Sam.

“Shut up,” Sam said. “At least I didn’t come back with something I had to treat with penicillin.”

“Now, now…” Dean chided. “Don’t make me separate you two.”

Caleb scooped up the metal and Mac’s old doctor’s bag, making his way back to the Winchesters where he knelt across from Sam, Dean between them. “We could have used you as referee a few hundred miles ago, Deuce.”

Sam met his gaze. “I don’t see how you put up with him. He’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’m usually drunk…”

“So much for loyalty.” Caleb dug through the medical bag. “Just remember I’m holding the good drugs.”

Dean closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. “Drugs… sound good.”

Caleb filled the syringe, trying not to think about the fact Dean usually refused the hard stuff. He’d give him enough to knock him out. “I could have used some of this having to listen to Sammy go on and on about school and shit.”

Sam snorted. “Better than his outright lies about all the ghouls you two have slain and women you’ve conquered since I’ve been gone.”

“All true,” Caleb said.

Dean gave his brother a half grin. “At least the parts about me.”

“You might have to step your game up a notch, Deuce.” Caleb swallowed the bile at the back of his throat, pressed the plunger to clear any air. “After meeting the lovely Jessica, I think our little Sammy might have finally hit his stride. He could give you a run for your money.”

Dean looked up at his little brother. “I…need to meet this girl.”

Caleb took advantage of his distraction. Quickly swabbing the inside of Dean’s elbow with alcohol, he injected the medicine. Dean turned, giving him an accusing glare. “No fair.”

“You’ll thank me in a minute.” Caleb ran his hand over Dean’s hair. “I’ll be the one bitching when I have to haul your heavy ass out of here.”

Dean’s eyelids fluttered. “You said he’d come back.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Caleb took his eyes from his best friend long enough to meet Sam’s gaze. “There are some things I’m always right about.”

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Sam wanted to believe Caleb had been right about the amulet, but he was afraid he’d made a huge mistake in going along with the plan. Sure the psychic had led them to the warehouse district, on the opposite end of town from where Catherine Blake resided. He’d made easy work of detecting several demonic sentries stationed at strategic areas to prevent their undetected arrival. But he’d also shown little regard for the lives of the innocent humans ensnared by the demonic presences.

Sam blamed it on Caleb’s wavering control over the demon. He could sense his friends struggle, but he could also detect Caleb's primal urge to find Dean at all costs. Sam felt the same tug, but wasn’t battling with an entity that thrived on hatred and fear. Sam could control himself enough to still see the line in the sand. He wasn’t so sure Caleb could be trusted not to leap over it.

Obviously Bobby felt the same way. “Drop her now, Caleb. Let her go!”

He kept one hand on Caleb’s sleeve, the other drawn back wielding the flask.

“Fine.” Caleb flicked his wrist dismissively and the woman who had been breathlessly writhing against the wall dropped to the ground unconscious as a black plume of smoke rushed from her slack mouth. “But she would have alerted Rose, same as the other one.”

“There are other ways to stop these bastards without killing the host, as you well know.”

“Ways that take time and energy.” Caleb grinned. “Time Deuce can’t afford and energy Caleb doesn’t have.”

Bobby growled. “You kill anyone and I will send you back to hell myself. I have the exorcism memorized you unholy beast. Don’t push me.”

“That wouldn’t be pretty as long as we’re still wearing the amulet.”

“Caleb’s prepared to do what’s necessary,” Sam said, pointing the Colt at his friend. “Don’t think for a minute I’m not.”

“We’re close to Dean. I can feel his suffering stronger now. Do you really want to risk his rescue by playing nice?”

Sam licked his lips. He’d felt twinges of the link to Dean flickering off and on like a light bulb about to blow, leaving Sam filled with a dark foreboding. He suddenly remembered the look on Dean’s face after he shot the possessed man who was beating Sam to death during the botched rescue of their father from Meg. The heartfelt confession his brother had made about what he was capable of when it came to his family.

Sam lowered the Colt. “Do what you have to.”

“Damn it, Sam!” Bobby swore.

Then the animal-like scream pierced the quiet around them. The sound of it both answered prayer and worst fear. It set Sam’s nerves on fire, Caleb’s reaction doubling the intensity, threatening to send Sam to his knees under its weight. The echo of pain tore through the night once more, slicing Sam to his core. He clasped one hand over his heart and struggled to reclaim his stolen breath. “Oh, God. Dean.”

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Dean watched as Jim put away the fishing gear, their earlier discussion of Heaven and Hell ending the pastor’s pursuit of the perfect catch. It hadn’t helped Dean’s mood either, or his growing headache. He looked up at the sun, the blazing orange ball taking up more than its usual share of the azure sky. He blamed it for the heat that had been increasing incrementally and the sweat beading along his upper lip. Even the water was too warm as he dipped his hands in, intent on splashing his face. He pulled his fingers from the lake with a disgruntled sigh, shaking the drops from them. When his gaze returned to Jim, the pastor was no longer packing but watching him.

“Are you alright, my boy?”

“Just a little warm.” Dean offered a weak smile, and used the back of his arm to wipe the perspiration from his brow. The truth was he felt like shit. “I could use some of your sweet tea. Or maybe you could sculpt us an air conditioner or fan out of silver?”

Jim’s worry wavered behind a quick smile. “I can manage the tea. There are some advantages to this new life.”

So excited by the promise of relief, Dean didn’t even voice his wonder at how Jim’s picnic basket worked. The pastor lifted the lid and produced a tall glistening glass of amber liquid complete with slices of lemon floating on top.

“If you could go back to your old life, to one specific moment and change it, would you?”

Jim stowed the basket beneath his feet, taking his time in meeting Dean’s gaze. “Another impossibly hard question. You’re full of them today.”

“It’s not that hard.” Dean took a long sip of the cool drink, sighing in sweet memory. “Either you would or you wouldn’t, Merlin.”

“I had a good run at it, a long, fulfilled life.”

“That’s cheating. You’re redirecting.”

“I would be tempted,” the pastor said, finally. He picked up the oars and dipped them in the water. “How about you? Would you change things?”

“I used to believe I would.” Dean held the cool glass to his head. “I thought I knew exactly what I would change.”

Jim leaned into his starboard stroke, and Dean noted he was angling them towards the shore. “Your mother. Of course you would want to save her. Anyone who has loved that deeply and lost would have the same wish.”

Dean tightened his grip around the glass. “Funny you should use that word…wish.”

“Why is that?” Jim slowed his rowing and Dean wondered at the pastor’s sudden desire to reach land.

“I got my wish granted…at least for a little while.” He took another drink, wincing as the cold liquid burned his parched throat, the taste of regret marring his palette. “An unexpected visit with a genie gave me a glimpse.”

“A djinn,” Jim said knowingly. He focused his intense blue gaze on Dean. “And was it all that you hoped?”

Dean got the distinct impression Jim already knew the answer to that question. “I think you already said be careful what you wish for. I got more than I bargained.”

“Sparing your mother’s life didn’t right all the wrongs since her death?”

“No. Some things changed for the worse.” Dean set the empty glass on the bench beside him, remembering his time caught within the nightmare, which was suppose to be the answer to all his prayers. “She got to watch me and Sam grow up, spend a lot more years with Dad but…”

“But what?”

“Dad was still dead. We sure weren’t a family. Sammy and I were so different, more strangers than brothers. Hell, we didn’t even like each other.”

Jim nodded. “Tragedy often changes the people we become, sometimes for the better. It can bring us closer to those around us, help us appreciate things we might otherwise take for granted.”

“I wasn’t a very good guy in that life…I wasn’t a good brother to Sam.”

“I’m sure you were merely different than the Dean we know and love today. You lived a different life, had different experiences. There was no need for you to be a surrogate parent to your brother with both your parents still alive and capable.”

Dean shook his head at the pastor’s optimism. “I would have stayed there though, worked on things with Sammy, made it right. I wanted Mom to be alive, to see her grandchildren.”

“What changed your mind?”

It was a good question. One Dean had pondered on a few long nights since then. “I saw a news report about a plane crash that Sam and I had stopped. All those people dead because we weren’t there to protect them.” Dean remembered the anguish that welled up inside him, the guilt of so many lives lost because of his choice.

“Many, many lives have been saved by your family.”

Dean licked his lips. “It got me to thinking about what else I had changed, so I did some research.” A part of him wished he had never looked. It was like opening Pandora’s Box. “I searched for people that Dad had saved over the years, ones that Sammy and I had saved. All I found were obituaries, stories of their deaths. All the good we’d done had disappeared. Erased as if we never existed.”

Jim stopped rowing, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “As hunters you didn’t exist. Saving your mother changed that. It must have been a terrible fact to accept in light of having your deepest desire delivered to you.”

Dean looked at him, twisting the silver ring on his finger as he remembered the other research he’d done, the answers that had driven him to the graveyard in anger to confront his dead father. “I looked for you and Caleb. Bobby and Mac.”

Jim didn’t seem surprised. “I take it we were not living your definition of happily ever after?”

“You were gone. Everybody was gone.” Dean slammed his fist on the bench seat, sending the glass skittering along the bottom of the boat. “It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Mom was supposed to be fine, Dad was supposed to still be alive. We were all going to be a family again. I never thought about the rest of it.”

Jim slowly reached down and picked up the empty cup, rolling it between his hands. “There is nothing wrong with wanting that dream, Son. You weren’t being selfish, only human. Sometimes it is hard to see the forest for the trees when you are merely a small leaf.”

“But it was wrong,” Dean choked. “I was with Mom. Sammy was with Jess but every other goddamn thing I cared about was shot to Hell.” He wiped his eyes. It was like his deal for Sam. He wondered if the time with the genie had been a warning. “You, Mac and Bobby were killed in a fire at the church that Christmas after Mom was supposed to have died. Caleb was blamed for it; tried as a minor and put in some fucking mental institution for the criminally insane where he died mysteriously in the basement of the facility. One guess who was behind that?”

Jim sighed. “Daniel Elkins no doubt.”

Dean ran a hand over his mouth. “It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had probably taken over The Brotherhood after you were gone.”

“Griffin, if I had to wager.”

Dean glared at the preacher. “How can you be so calm about it? Did you just not hear the part where I said you, Bobby and Mac were offed by The Yellow-Eyed Demon and Caleb was murdered by vigilante hunters?” It was a cruel twist of fate.

“I realized long ago the impact a single life can have on a multitude of futures. Imagine if Martin Luther King had never been born, or if Hitler had died as a child.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Jim returned the glass to the basket then braced himself on his knees. “It means that an individual can make a world of difference in the grand scheme of things.” The pastor’s eyes softened. “Especially if that person is someone like you, Dean.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose where a white hot pain had blossomed from the small twinges. “You can’t really expect me to believe that I changed all those things, kept all that bad shit from happening.”

“I believe your mother’s death, however horrific and tragic, started a series of events that led your family to become a part of The Brotherhood, and in doing so, forged three brave warriors that would save countless strangers as well as those who would become your new family. Mary’s legacy is not merely one of bloodshed and loss, but one beyond anything she could have imagined had she lived the life you hoped. Your father, you and Samuel have all made an amazing impact in this world, as will her grandchildren and their children.”

“But why did she have to be sacrificed for the greater good? You taught me that every person is important; one life is as valuable as a hundred lives. I’ve held to that all these years, lived my life by that rule. Now you’re saying that she had to die for all those other people to live. How can both things be true?”

“I can’t answer that question anymore than I can the one of why Caleb was forced to watch his parents slaughtered, Sam made to witness Jessica’s torment or why Robert had to take the life of the one he loved most. Those answers are beyond me, even in this new place.” Jim pointed a finger at him. “I wish I could tell you all that you need to hear, to take away all your fears; but that was never in my power, nor is it now.”

He leaned forward as if about to tell Dean a great secret. “But if there was one thing I would wish to go back and change I would go back and protect you, your brother and Caleb from the losses you endured, from the pain you are most assuredly yet to suffer at the hands of our enemy. I would forsake your destiny, cheat you of the men you will become and in turn rob the world of the greatness you three will bring to it.” He released one paddle, reaching up to rest a hand against Dean’s cheek. “Don’t you see? In my ignorance, in all my human naiveté I would deny my own time with you, unknowingly refusing the blessing of loving you three.”

“Is this your whacked out way of telling me I can’t have my cake and eat it too?" Dean huffed. "Or maybe that life isn’t fair?”

Jim dropped his hand, reclaiming the oar with a raucous laugh. “Oh yes, my boy. That is exactly what I have been trying to tell you. Both those things.” The pastor began to row towards the shore once more. “In fact, that is the secret to life, I think. You’ve figured it out. Our time here is done.”

And even though it was said in jest, Dean feared it was true. “Is that why you’re heading for shore? Are you leaving?”

Jim faced him, all traces of levity gone. “No. I believe it is you who will be going.”

Dean snorted. “To Hell.”

Jim frowned. “That is not set in stone.”

“And if I do go…is it going to be like with the genie? Are all the good things I did going to be erased? Are the people I love going to die because of my choice? Am I leaving them vulnerable?”

Without Jim even attempting to answer, Dean knew the truth. The pastor had no answers for him. Dean felt the trail of sweat as it trickled into his eye, burning and blurring his vision. “It’s getting hot out here.”

Jim continued to row. “I think our demon friend has grown impatient.”

“I’m getting weaker?”

“You are succumbing to her methods. Yes.”

“That can’t be good.”

“You will get better at this.” Jim rowed harder. “In time, you’ll be able to maintain this sanctuary for days, perhaps weeks.”

“Why would I need to do that?”

Jim continued to row. “Never fear. Caleb and Samuel are close. Your suffering will not last much longer.”

“This time.” Dean continued to look at Jim even though the pastor was staring past him, concentrating on the large oak by the pond. Dean blinked, noticing the two shadowy figures that had appeared at its base.

“Atticus and Scout,” he said. Dean rubbed more sweat from his eyes, hoping to sharpen the dog-like forms, to lay eyes on his old friends.

“No, my boy.”

The tone of Jim’s voice had Dean focusing on the pastor again. He yelped when something hot splattered across his bare arms. Water.

Dean hissed as he was splashed again. “What the …” The lake was churning….boiling around them. He whipped his head up, his gaze going to the tree once more. Two sets of red eyes met his from twisted , snarling, snapping lupine faces. “Hell hounds?”

“Your imagination, son. Reality bleeding over. Nothing more,” Jim said, gently. “Ignore them.”

Dean gestured to the roiling pond, lapping at the boat’s edges. “And this?”

“What it’s always been. A part of you. The water is yours, not theirs. They can’t harm you here.”

“Shit.” Dean’s thoughts were as agitated as the pond around them as he fought to gather some of the pastor’s calm. “What should I do? How…how do I fix it?”

Jim stopped paddling, letting their vessel drift now. Dean felt panic encroaching as the bottom of the boat grated against ground. “You don’t.” Jim reached out, caught his hand, holding it tightly. “You ride it out.”

“What?”

“Sometimes the Lord calms the storm, and sometimes he lets the storm rage and calms his child.”

“Really?” Dean pulled away, bringing both hands to his head where the pounding was demanding to be acknowledged. “You’re quoting Bible verse now?” The vessel rocked beneath him, and Dean worried they’d be thrown into the water and boiled alive.

Cool hands encircled his wrists. “We must say goodbye for now.” Jim’s soft voice broke through the pain.

“No.” Dean shook his head, dread exploding to terror. He wanted to conjure his typical devil may care bravado; but old fears raised their ugly head, digging at his weaknesses. “Don’t leave me alone. Please!”

Jim held tighter, pulling Dean’s hands away from his head, clasping them together within his. “I’ll be here when you need me most, my boy. I promise you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean choked, squeezing his eyes tighter, hoping to lock out the inevitable. He felt foolish, like a child. He was stronger than this, would handle it like a man. But the pain that was seeping through his defenses chided otherwise. Dean wondered at its power and what Hell would be like in comparison.“I know I caused all of this…I let everybody down. I’m sorry…”

“What you did, you did out of love.” Jim lifted Dean’s chin so the younger hunter’s eyes met his soothing blue gaze. “Where there is love that great, there are always miracles.”

Jim smiled. “Next time, we will work on all those Guardian matters I failed to tend to in my old life. Your training will begin.”

“Training?” Dean dug his fists into his jeans, trying to deflect the stinging sensation now rippling through his body . “What happened to fishing?”

“We’ll save that for Sundays. Unless our ox happens to be in a ditch.”

Dean struggled to keep his voice steady. “We don’t have any damn ox, Old Man.”

“Exactly.” The pastor patted his face. “Great bass and catfish beware.” Jim released him and stood. He picked up the picnic basket, slipping his straw hat on his head. “Be brave, my boy.”

RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

Dean came to with a gasp, his body convulsing against the restraints holding him down. A scream filled his ears, and it only took a moment to realize it was his own voice and what had prompted it. Fire engulfed his body, burning away any cognizant thought of where he was or why. Pain was this new world he had awoken in. “SAM!”

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Onto Chapter 8

Home

Uploaded by Majs