The Edge of Winter

By: Ridley C. James, September 2008

Beta: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

Author’s Advisory: Just a little note that this chapter contains several scenes of violence. It is a darker work dealing with an intense subject matter, and thus the typical character reactions are darker for it.

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ
Chapter 8/9

“Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hate. It is a power that breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness.” --William Arthur Ward

Taos, New Mexico, November, 2002

Caleb paced six steps, turning to take six more steps before the confines of the room forced him to spin around again, his boots squeaking against the bruised linoleum floor. White walls and the turquoise blue tinged floor made Caleb think the hospital was overdue for renovation and expansion. If they helped Deuce, then he would have Tri-Corp get right on it.

“Would you please sit down? Or at least take your pacing to the other side of the room?”

Caleb reluctantly took the seat next to Sam. He reached for the younger man’s arm, turning it so he could see Sam's watch. “How long has it been?”

Sam pulled away. “Ten minutes longer than the last time you asked me.”

“Shit.” Caleb twisted the silver ring on his finger. “They could have at least come and told us something by now. It’s been almost an hour.”

“They’re probably working to stabilize him. He was in shock.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Caleb snapped. Despite the morphine, the trip off the mountain had been hell with Dean drifting in and out of consciousness. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Can’t you reach out and touch someone?” Sam motioned to his head.

“It’s not that easy. Dean’s thoughts are fucked up due to the drugs and fever. I don’t want to push. And reading a stranger without a visual line of sight when there are this many people around is hard. It’s like picking up the old party line Jim used to have at the farm. No telling who the hell you might connect with.”

“It’s not an exact science.” Sam frowned. “I never really thought about how frustrating it must be.”

“Keep your fingers crossed you never have to find out first hand, Runt.” Caleb hoped Sam’s latent abilities never came to light, especially if he was damn set on having a normal life. The kid didn’t get a chance to respond as a white-coated older man came striding down the hall, moving towards their row of bright orange chairs.

“Are you the Winchester family?”

Caleb and Sam stood. “We are. I’m Dean’s uncle. This is his brother, Sam.”

“Dr. Frasier.” The man shook Caleb’s hand, nodding to Sam. “I’ve been assigned to be your brother’s acting physician. You all are from Kentucky I see.”

Caleb nodded. “We were taking a little vacation to do some hiking and climbing before the holidays. We were late in meeting up with Dean.”

“Looks like he took an unexpected solo trip.” Dr. Fraiser flipped through pages on the clipboard.

“He did," Caleb confirmed, feeling as though the doctor was proclaiming his culpability.

The doctor pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in the pocket of his lab coat. “It was lucky you boys found him when you did.”

“How is he?” Sam asked.

“X-rays show a clean break of the fibula, which is good considering the velocity impact he withstood. The open fracture is not so good.” The doctor shook his head.

“Infection?” Caleb asked. He was tempted to just plunder the man’s thoughts, but he forced himself to be patient.

“I’m afraid so. Osteomyelitis is always a concern with compound fractures, but the length of time Dean went without treatment has notched up the risk factors.” He used his hand to gesture moving up on an invisible scale to a different level.

Caleb tried to control his panic and immediate reflex to want his dad to deal with medical issues. Instead he tried to ask the right questions. “Will he need surgery?”

Caleb felt Sam’s eyes on him, and easily picked up on the surge of panic.

“He’s not going to lose his leg is he?” Sam asked because Caleb couldn't go there.

Frasier shook his head. “Let’s not jump to worst case scenarios, gentlemen. Surgery is almost always required after an open break. Debridement is necessary, especially when the bone has been exposed for this length of time.”

“Are you doing the job?” Caleb asked next, trying to size up the doctor's abilities.

“No. We have a good orthopedic surgeon on staff.”

“My father’s a neurosurgeon based out of New York.” Caleb felt the need to have some kind of control over the situation, even if it was mostly illusory. “Could your guy do a phone consultation with him?” Mackland would have a hard time reaching New Mexico in time, but Caleb had called him as soon as they got Dean to the ER. He was standing by for news. They could at least have a second opinion before Deuce went under the knife. "I want to know my Dad agrees with your game plan.”

The doctor nodded. “I don’t think that would be a problem.”

“Good.” Caleb handed the man Mackland’s card. “Tell him to use the cell phone number on the back.”

“Can we see Dean?” Sam asked with his fist near his mouth in nervousness.

Frasier motioned for them to follow him. “I think that would be a good idea. You can have a few minutes before we start his prep and move him to the OR. He’s in trauma room 102.”

Frasier turned the business card over in his hand as they walked. “Mackland Ames?” He raised a brow. “The Mackland Ames.”

Caleb nodded. “Play your cards right, fix Dean up good as new, and you could be looking at a new wing, Doc.” Or in typical fashion, Dad could ream him a new one.

The doctor pocketed the card, stopping in front of a set of swinging doors. “Here we are.”

By the looks of Trauma Room 102 the small hospital could also use a healthy donation for a complete gutting to go along with the face lift. The room was not a room at all, but a curtained off square, amongst other squares, filled with monitoring equipment in a wide open space that reminded Caleb of a basement with all its white cinder blocks and sterile concrete floor.

“Mac will not be giving his Johns Hopkins stamp of approval,” he said. Sam's jaw was clenched and it was obvious he wasn’t going to participate in Caleb’s attempt to redirect his thoughts. “And he thought New Haven was lacking in frill.” Caleb mentioned Jim's local hospital.

“Celeste said it was a fine hospital,” Sam said, quietly not giving in to the bait to talk about the farm.

They called the inn owner from Truchas to get directions to the nearest medical help and although neither he nor Sam liked the idea of taking Dean to a strange place in a strange town, there were no alternatives. Deuce was in bad shape. That point was driven home as Dr. Frasier pulled the curtain aside to allow them access.

Dean was hooked up to an IV and several monitors. Caleb concentrated on his friend’s face, preferring not to look at his bruise covered torso or the damaged leg.

“I’ll relay Dr. Ames’s information to the surgeon and give you all some privacy.” Dr. Frasier turned to leave.

“Thanks, Doc.” Caleb watched him go before forcing himself to move to Dean’s bed. Sam had already taken up residence on the other side.

They were both stunned when Dean's eyes opened and focused on his brother. “Hey, Deuce you’re awake.”

“No rest for the weary…” Dean moved his eyes from Sam and tried for a smile. “I think your magic serum wore off half way down the trail and nobody seems in too much of a hurry to give me more.”

“The doctor says you’re going to be fine,” Sam explained. “You have a mild concussion. That’s why they’re holding off on the drugs.”

Dean kept his focus on Caleb. “You still hearing and seeing him?”

Caleb laughed. “Yeah. Unfortunately, he’s hard to block out.”

“I wasn’t completely sure.” Dean returned his gaze to his brother. “Sammy…this isn’t the homecoming I had planned.”

“It’s okay…” Sam started.

Caleb took a deep calming breath as Dean shook his head, his expression turning serious.

“No, it’s not. I had it all worked out in my head…it will be different now…”

“Deuce, why don’t you focus on getting out of here first?” Caleb said. He hoped to derail his friend’s train of thought, which was still all over the place. However, one perfect image came through loud and clear. “They’re going to be taking you down to surgery soon…”

“Don’t let them take anything I need.” Dean’s green gaze focused on him again. “I mean it, Damien. You tell them I’m walking the fuck out of here.”

“No one’s going to take anything from you, Deuce.” Caleb couldn’t help but to glance at Sam, hoping he could somehow keep that promise all the way around. “Not on my watch.”

Dean nodded, closing his eyes briefly, breathing through his nose. He clenched a handful of sheet. “And don’t call Dad. Okay?”

Caleb placed a hand on his head, trying to lend some kind of comfort. Not for the first time in the last five hours he felt completely helpless. He managed a light laugh. “And risk him finding out I let you start a hunt by yourself. Are you crazy?”

“Not like he’d answer anyway,” Sam muttered.

“I did call Mac, though,” Caleb quickly interjected. "Thought we might hurt his feelings if he didn’t get to be in on some of the action before they started carving you up. You know how territorial he gets. He’ll probably call Jim, but I think Johnny’s tied up with a gig.”

Dean opened his eyes. Caleb was worried he’d heard Sam’s earlier statement until Dean gave a pretty good version of his shit eating grin. “He could be gone for a few more weeks.”

Caleb nodded, watching as mischief stirred within Dean’s green eyes, temporarily overshadowing the pain. “Probably.”

Dean turned to Sam. “We’ll get drunk off our asses … do Thanksgiving at the farm. Jim would love that.”

“Dean…”

Caleb let his hand slide over the younger man’s hair, removing his touch with a sigh. Pastor Jim wasn’t the only one who would love having Sam home. “Don’t get too carried away, Mr. Indestructible. You’ll be lucky to get out of here by Thanksgiving.” Dean would need antibiotic therapy and then rehabilitation. “Let’s leave the party plans open for now.”

“Don’t worry about anything but getting better,” Sam said, and Caleb noticed he wasn't touching his brother.

Dean frowned. “Something you two not telling me?”

“No.” Caleb leaned against the gurney. “Cut us some slack if we’re a little freaked out from your MIA routine. You scared the hell out of us.”

“I’ll be fine, Dude.” Dean looked from Caleb to his brother. ”No way I’m going to miss Sammy filling me in on Stanford. It will be like the backstage scoop on MTV’s Spring Break.”

“Please.” Caleb scoffed, glad to be in safer territory. “More like a recap of one of those boring documentaries on the History Channel. Sammy’s probably spent the majority of his time in the library.”

Sam shot him a dirty look. “At least I don’t have my very own cubicle at the tutoring center.”

Dean attempted a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “He’s…got your number, Damien.”

“I’ll have you know my tutor was extremely hot.” He winked at Dean. “I ended up teaching her a few things about chemistry.”

“Gentlemen.” A tall nurse wearing faded green scrubs entered the curtained area, interrupting the forced banter. Two technicians followed. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave now. We need to move Mr. Winchester upstairs.”

Caleb felt a momentary surge of panic, not quite sure if it was his or a backwash from Dean and Sam. He reached out, grasping Deuce’s forearm, careful of the IV. “We’ll be here when you wake up, Kiddo. It’s all good.”

“Stop worrying, Damien.” Dean returned the gesture with a weak squeeze to his arm and a nervous smile. “Remember what I said about the detachable parts.”

Caleb let him go with a sharp nod. “You don’t have any.”

“Right.”

Sam seemed reluctant to leave. Caleb didn’t miss the way he was staring at his brother as if it might be the last time he would see him. Dean noticed the look, too. “Sammy, this is nothing. I’ve had a lot worse.”

“Yeah.” Sam licked his lips, carefully pulling the sheet up around Dean. “I know.” He rested his hand on his brother’s chest, finally making contact. “You’ll be okay.”

“Better than okay now that you’re home.”

Sam smiled, but stayed silent as they wheeled Dean away from them. Caleb caught his arm when he started for the door. “Where are you going?”

“To the Inn.”

“Now?” Caleb released his grip on Sam.

Sam looked down where Caleb’s hand had wrapped around his upper arm. “It’s not even a ten minute drive. The surgery will probably take a couple of hours.”

“Why go now?”

“To get some of our things, some of Dean’s things.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “And honestly I could use some air.”

Caleb recognized the weariness, the adrenaline hangover. He wouldn’t mind some alone time either. “You’re coming back?”

Sam seemed to understand the underlying question and exhaled heavily. “I’m not going anywhere until I know Dean’s okay.”

Sam’s answer didn’t exactly give cause for the warm fuzzies. “And after that?”

Sam glanced away.

“He’s fucking thrilled you’re here.” Caleb knew he was bordering on begging. “Why not stay for Thanksgiving?”

Sam gestured towards the hall where Dean had disappeared. “He’s not even sure where he is, man. He thought I was a fucking illusion.”

“Which should tell you something.”

“What? What do you think that should tell me? That I should feel guilty my brother’s subconscious is playing cruel tricks on him? That I’m responsible for his mental anguish?”

Caleb raised his eyebrows at the lawyer speak Sam was picking up even though he was still an undergrad freshmen. “I think it would show you that when Dean was hurt, you’re the person he was thinking about, the one he needed.”

Sam lifted his hands and dropped them in resignation “You’re never going to fucking get it.”

“Get what?” Caleb understood Sam was reiterating his past conversation. “He’s hurt, Sam. Excuse the hell out of me if I’m placing you in an awkward position by putting him first for a fucking change.”

Sam looked away with a choked laugh and when he faced Caleb again his eyes were wet with emotion. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t do it.”

“You won’t do what?” Caleb couldn’t bridge the gap between the Sam that stood before him and the little boy that would do anything for Dean. “Be his brother? Because I remember the Sammy who begged me to risk life and limb by breaking him into a fucking hospital room just so he could see his brother to make sure Dean knew you were still there, still waiting on him. Where’s that person now?”

“I will always, ALWAYS, be his brother.” Sam’s voice rose and he roughly brushed the traces of tears from his face. "It’s the hunting part I can’t do. It’s Dad and his unholy obsession I can’t live with.”

“But that’s who Dean is! He’s a hunter through and through. He’s John Winchester’s son inside and out. If you can’t accept that, then you deny the biggest part of him.”

They faced off, both panting with barely restrained anger. Finally, Sam took a step back, holding his hands up. “I better go before…” He hesitated, retreating more ground. "So I can get back.”

Caleb didn’t stop him. Sam wasn’t the only one afraid he would say something he couldn’t take back. He started out of the room when another nurse caught up to him. “Your nephew asked I give you these for safekeeping.” She handed him an envelope. “He was afraid they would be lost.”

Caleb took the package, making his way back to the row of orange chairs. He slid into one of the seats, feeling the stress of the last few days collapsing in on him. He opened the envelope and let the contents 

fall into his hand. Dean’s pendant, the one Sam had given him, his leather bracelets, and his silver ring. Caleb closed his fingers around his best friend’s most valued items. He gave the exit door a longing glance, knowing all too well the one thing Dean prized most, was the one damn thing Caleb couldn’t hold onto.
RcJSnsnsnsNRcJ

Alabama, November 2008

“Wait a minute, damn it. Just hold on.” Sam tightened his grasp on Caleb as the other psychic turned to take off in the direction of Dean’s screams. They were on a deserted street, green garbage cans lining the alley on both sides. The warehouses were numerous and in poor repair. “It could be a trap.” Meg/Rose had mimicked voices before, making Dad believe she killed Caleb in Lincoln, instead of Caleb’s cult contact Daniel.

“It’s Deuce.” Caleb pulled away. “I can feel him.”

Sam could sense his brother’s distress too, but had learned reacting and going off half-cocked rarely got them to a better place. “I know he’s here, but that might be exactly what she’s counting on.”

“How many of your kind are here?” Bobby stepped toe to toe with Caleb, addressing the demon inside. He gripped his gun. “You sensed those first two. How about the rest?”

Caleb’s gold eyes disappeared behind black shadows. “Some older ones have the power to shield themselves.”

“Take a wild guess,” the mechanic said.

“Four directly outside the building where she is holding the hunter. Another inside with her.”

“Does she know we’re here?” Sam asked.

“Shielding is a particular talent I share. Caleb did his homework.”

“You can shield other people?” Sam asked, knowing Rose could pick up on Caleb’s presence, and probably his too, considering what her father had revealed to Sam in the Cold Oak dream world.

“A mental umbrella of sorts. Gives me and mine a stealth one grows to appreciate.”

Another scream echoed around them, this time a mangled cry of Sam’s name. His entire body thrummed, adrenaline urging him to take off.

“Deuce.”

Caleb shook beside him, an attack dog begging for release. Bobby cursed, running a hand over his beard. “Goddamn fucking monsters.”

This time Dean called for Dad, then Caleb. Sam was close to losing his tenuous grip on rationality. That ominous edge he’d sensed earlier was looming closer. He could step back or move forward, taking a leap of faith in a direction that was unclear. Caleb took off in a dead run. Sam let him go then gave himself permission for release, consequences be damned. He ignored Bobby’s order to stand down, focused on only one thing-saving Dean.

Sam held the Colt in front of him, finger on the trigger, but had no need to use it. He wasn’t sure what exactly Caleb had called forth, but in its wake he was left to speculate the immense power. The first two demons they encountered never knew what hit them.

Telekinesis wasn’t the word for it. It was as if the presence Caleb was possessing harnessed pure psychic energy, compressed it into an invisible ball and then launched it from the palm of his hand. It was hard for Sam to ignore the aftermath. Their bodies bucked, twisted and broke with all the finality of sky divers with malfunctioning parachutes.

He barely recognized Bobby’s faint swears over the deafening duo of his roaring blood and pounding heart. It was like no hunt he’d been on, but it was familiar on a level he couldn’t quite grasp. Something ancient and primal pulsed through his veins, pushing him. His link to Caleb was wide open and he sensed his friend and his brother on a different level. It was as natural as breathing. Sam wasn’t sure if they had awakened some dormant Triad magic or tapped into something much more sinister. He prayed for the former even as he held The Colt at ready.

He was alongside Caleb when they encountered the next wave of demons. Sam fired one round, dropping the hulk of a man in the cheap, tawdry suit. Caleb snapped the neck of the other one with a wave of his hand. Sam pushed aside the idea they were killing innocent human hostages. At this point it was neutralize and retrieve.

The crescendo of Dean’s torment preceded their crashing through the warehouse doors. Caleb drew up short, panting. “If she didn’t know we were here before; she does now.”

Sam scanned the inside of the building, noting the vast empty space and discarded crates. It appeared to have once been used as some sort of office space. A tiled ceiling and muted grey carpet had been put in with long rows of fluorescent lighting. Remnant cubicles now turned over or dismantled, littered the area as well as a few smashed computer monitors and bundles of wiring and cable. It was an odd choice of location for a business office. There were no recent traces of habitation.

“There.” Caleb pointed to a door in the far corner. “Rose and Deuce.”

Bobby came through the door, sawed-off shotgun at his side. “What the hell you two waiting on? Let's go get our boy.”

“The bitch is mine.”

Sam wasn’t sure if it was Caleb or the demon staking claim to Rose’s demise but he had no problem stepping aside. While they were destroying Rose in hopefully the most painful way possible, he would rescue Dean.

She was waiting on them, along with another demon, this one male and fit, as if he might have been plucked from Gold’s Gym as an afterthought. The room looked like the abandoned lair of a mad scientist. There were more broken monitors, a smashed hard drive lay in ruins among turned over filing cabinets. Two desks sat in the center of the room where there were several lights reminiscent of the types in a surgery bay. They cast an unusually bright light on the long metal table with wheels. It was the kind one saw in morgues for autopsies. Sam cringed.

Rose was standing on the far side of the counter; her arms crossed, wearing a frown on her borrowed face. She was beautiful in the voluptuous, pin-up model way his brother usually went for. Sam couldn’t help but think in her short skirt, lab coat and glasses Rose could have been preparing for a Playboy photo shoot, ready to feed into every man’s doctor fantasy. She even had the lucky guy strapped down in front of her. Only this time the dream had turned nightmare, and Dean was front and center for the unfolding. Sam’s heart sped up as the proximity spiked his connection to his brother. It sent a mixed wave of guilt and regret. He should have never let Dean out of his sight at that bar.

“Get the fuck away from him!” Caleb took a step forward.

“Not so fast, party crasher.” Rose moved quickly. She grabbed a scalpel from the tray of surgical instruments beside her and held it to Dean’s throat. “Stay where you are. I’d hate to slip and cut his head off.”

It forced Sam to look at his brother, something he’d tried to avoid in order to keep his wits. The sensation of pain battering his minimal psychic walls was bad enough. Restraints held Dean’s hands and feet, one long leather strap pinning his upper body to the table. He was squirming, bucking the confines. Sam quickly realized the reason for Dean’s sudden silence. Duct tape covered his mouth, a blindfold over his eyes.

Caleb jerked his hand up and Rose’s makeshift bodyguard flew into the far wall. A sick crunching sound echoed around them.

“Sam,” Caleb said.

Without consciously acknowledging what was being asked of him, Sam lifted the Colt and put a bullet in the man’s head. It felt good. The man’s muscled body jerked and writhed as the demon possessing him was destroyed. Caleb let him drop in a bloodied heap after the process was finished.

“I’ll say it again. Back. The. Fuck. Away.”

Rose’s smile faltered, and her confident grin wavered. “Telekinesis? That’s a new trick.”

Caleb took another step. “Oh, I have a whole new repertoire, Bitch.”

She lowered the knife, tilting her head in confusion. “Where’s the amulet?”

“Back away from the boy and we’ll show you your fancy bobble, “ Bobby said. He stood beside Sam, his eyes locked on Dean.

Rose ignored the mechanic. “Caleb? Where is Father’s amulet?”

“I’ve taken good care of it.” Caleb pulled the necklace from under his shirt, letting it rest in the open against his chest. “More than you can say for Dean.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed, studying Caleb more closely. “You didn’t?”

Sam looked from Rose to Caleb, who was moving closer to the slab where Dean was writhing.

Caleb grinned. “Oh but he did.”

“I can’t feel him,” Sam said.

“What?” Bobby hissed.

“Caleb…” Sam’s mouth went dry, his heart pounding harder. “He’s not in control. It’s all demon.” Panic seeped past his defenses with all the voraciousness of Dean’s aching whimpers, which threatened to rob Sam of the little psychic control he had maintained.

“Well fuck!” Bobby spat. “Isn’t this a swift kick in the sac?” He fixed Sam with a reproachful gaze. “This is exactly what I was afraid of, what I tried to fucking warn you boys about...”

Sam looked at him with disbelief and gestured to the scene playing out. “You’re giving me an ‘I told you so’? Now? Really?”

Bobby frowned. "Get Dean and get out. I'll deal with Caleb."

Sam didn't like the sound of that. His brother would never forgive him if they all didn't go home. He tightened his hold on the Colt as he noticed Caleb reaching out and placing a hand on Dean’s head. “Caleb?” Sam hoped his friend had made a connection to override the demon.

“Get out of my head!” Rose yelled. She dropped the scalpel, the instrument clanging as it landed in the metal tray.

Sam jerked the gun up as Caleb shoved the table with enough force to send it rolling out of Rose’s reach, removing Dean from between them. The slab slammed into the wall without much impact and Bobby quickly made his way to Dean. Sam followed, keeping the Colt leveled on Caleb and Rose.

The demon calmly addressed her again. “Caleb was only thinking of what my abilities might offer him, but I must say his own talent is quite interesting, especially when bolstered by my energy.”

“You’re killing her!” Rose had both hands pressed to her temples and blood dripped from her nose. “This meat puppet I’m in is the only one who knows how to help Dean.”

Caleb’s demonic presence didn’t let up. “In the end no one can help Dean. You know that. He’s a big part of the master plan.”

“From the drug…” Rose ground out. “The drugs I gave him can be countered.”

Bobby freed Dean from the blind fold and duct tape but instantly his screams filled the room around them. Like a back draft, Sam felt the sound consume his body, every nerve flaming. He placed his hand on his brother, hoping to connect so Dean would realize he was there.

Sam kept his hand on Dean, the Colt trained on Caleb and Rose while Bobby tried to remove the restraints. In that moment Sam caught a glimpse of gold in the black gaze, felt a flicker of light. “Did you hear her, Caleb? We need Catherine. She knows what Rose used on him…and how to fix it. Don’t let him kill her.”

Caleb brought a fist to his forehead, closing his eyes. Sam was willing his words to penetrate, and his concentration on Caleb and his brother allowed Rose to rally her reserves. In an instant, Caleb was flying across the room, held to the wall by an unseen force.

Sam swung the Colt to cover Rose. She smiled, wiping her hand under her nose, smearing blood across her face. “Shoot me and you might as well place a bullet in big brother’s brain while you’re at it, tough guy.”

Caleb didn’t stay pinned long, dropping to the floor with a loud grunt.

Rose hissed like a cornered cat, roiling back.

“Your blocks really are pathetic, for someone of our blood line.”

Sam shifted his gaze to his friend, recognizing Caleb’s words as the ones Rose had spoken about him in the cave in Wyoming, when she was torturing him for Dean’s benefit. Sam switched the gun momentarily to cover Caleb, but oddly enough felt their connection strengthen. His friend was gaining more control. Dean’s screams had turned to incoherent pleas. Caleb’s voice filled his mind. “Take care of your brother.”

Sam hesitated, swinging the gun to Rose once more; every instinct demanded he kill her once and for all while he had the chance. But not at the cost of dooming Dean to the misery he was suffering.

“Hell of a time to grow a set.” She looked at him, reading his thoughts. “I dare you to do it, Sammy.”

“Leave her to me,” Caleb ordered. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Sam didn't lower the Colt, but moved closer to stand over his brother and be willing to protect him. Bobby had a hand on Dean's shoulder to keep him still.

“Not without the necklace.”

“You really think we’d give you the amulet now?” Caleb answered.

“Why not?” Rose asked. “Because you've gotten so well at using it? You think it just might be your ticket to save Dean from his fiery paradise. You’re naïve, Nephew.” Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “As naïve as Noah Seaver, but worse because you have the power to be dangerous, to do real damage.”

“Seaver brought your bastard of a father from Hell. What could I possibly do worse than that?”

“You’d be surprised. The demon hiding in your meat suit is worse than anything in our family closet. The ones with a soul are always more dangerous. Anger, regret, and an unquenchable thirst for revenge twist them into monsters far worse than those of us born to the calling. Haven’t you met Ruby?”

Sam shifted his eyes from Dean. He didn't like that Rose knew about their connection to Ruby. “That necklace can do things… you can unleash beings you can’t even begin to comprehend. And the more you use it; the more it becomes a part of you. It learns your fears and your hopes, twists them for its own nefarious purposes, and before you know it, you belong to it.”

“I think I understand better than anyone what this amulet can call forth. It’s the reason I’m here. The reason everyone I loved has died,” Caleb said. “I’m not losing Dean, too.”

“Which makes it even more dangerous for you to use.” Rose laughed, and Sam continued to listen to her as he helped Bobby remove the last of Dean’s confines. “Poor Baby. Let’s not forget the torment it has caused Deuce. He begged for you and Sammy to help him, you know. It was quite touching and very, very sad.”

Sam recognized the baiting, knew Rose had switched tactics and was hoping Caleb would lose control again. She was playing a dangerous game, considering the demon Caleb was possessing seemed to want Rose as dead as they did. He met Bobby’s gaze, feeling their edge disappearing. “Help me.” Together they lifted Dean from the table, carefully bringing him to the floor.

“I’m going to kill you,” Caleb said.

“You’ll do no such thing. Give me the amulet and I’ll give you the counter to the drug I injected Dean with. It’s a fascinating chemical equation really. I’m always amazed at what the human mind can come up with in the name of that thing you call defense.”

Rose gestured to the strewn equipment scattered around them. “Catherine and her colleagues did years of research on the processes of the brain in this secret facility actually, before government funding ran short. The war and all…But before they were shut down, Catherine found a sweet little chemical that tricks the brain into believing a whole host of things. Sort of like that movie Saw meets Virtual Reality. Imagine a drug that forces the body to feel and react to a number of situations without actually being damaged. No harm done, no treaties broken if it’s all in the prisoner’s head. Right? I especially liked the one where the victim feels like they're on fire. I thought that appropriate considering where Dean will be going.”

“You fucking tortured him for days and all for this amulet you think will bring Daddy back.” Caleb’s voice held all the disgust Sam was feeling. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, wishing his brother were 

lucid and could turn the tide in their favor with a quick word. “All you’re going to get is a one way ticket back home where you can experience the real thing.”

“Don’t be that way. This can still end amicably. As I pointed out, no real damage has been done to The Guardian.” Rose moved closer to Caleb. “Besides, he’ll have much worse in Hell. You should be thanking me that I gave him a taste of what to expect.” Sam watched as she stretched out her arms. It was the perfect time to take a shot, but his brother needed the antidote.

The force at which Caleb hit her startled Sam. He stood quickly, reluctantly leaving his brother’s care in Bobby’s hands. He was afraid the other psychic might do damage. “Caleb. We need her conscious.”

“Recite the exorcism, Sam,” Caleb ordered. “Send her slutty ass back to where she belongs.”

“Hell can’t hold me, Baby but I’ll wait around to get my piece of Dean. Do you really want that?”

“Dean’s not going to Hell.”

“You and the Boy Wonder couldn’t even keep me from getting my hands on him." She laughed, and Sam felt guilty at his inability to see that Dean needed protection. "You think you’re going to stop Hell Hounds on a mission? They work for a lot bigger fish than me.”

“Whatever it takes." Sam stated with a nod to Caleb as he began to recite the exorcism. Rose cried out, but so did Caleb. Sam was hesitant to continue.

Rose laughed. “That thing will not go quietly into the night. He’ll take pieces of Caleb with him.”

“Keep going!” Caleb said. “No matter what I say from here on out, don’t stop.” The last was added silently.

Sam continued to recant the scripture. Both Rose and Caleb went to their hands and knees, inches apart. Minutes into the exorcism, Caleb looked up, blood now smearing his face. “Sammy…don’t.”

The voice was Caleb’s, but Sam had felt the instant their psychic connection disappeared behind the demon’s shadow. “Please! You’re killing me.” Caleb writhed on the ground as the Latin continued to do its job.

“Sam?” Bobby’s uncertain voice came from behind him. Dean’s hoarse screams had started once more. Still, Sam continued to read, holding onto the instruction Caleb had placed in his thoughts. He had to trust in the other psychic, despite the fear twisting his gut.

Rose lunged at Caleb, her fingers wrapping in the chain hanging from the downed psychic’s neck. She snapped the latch before he could stop her.

The reaction was instantaneous. As soon as the amulet left Caleb, so did the demon. The psychic’s back arched, black smoke erupting from his mouth with a roar. The menacing plume hit the low ceiling before escaping into the minute cracks. Caleb slumped back, panting harshly.

“It’s mine!” Rose was above him, the amulet clasped in her hand. Sam barely heard Caleb’s words over the sound of his own voice beginning the last verse.

“You win.” Caleb coughed, blood from his nose dripping onto his lips. “But don’t you know, Auntie? You can’t take it with you.”

Fury then panic crossed Catherine Blake’s face, and Sam knew Rose realized she had come so close only to have it all torn away. She had a choice to make. “You’ll pay for this. All of you. It’s not over by a long shot.” Before Sam could finish his final sentence, Rose retreated, choosing to fight another day. Catherine collapsed near Caleb as the demon fled her body. Sam stopped speaking. Even Dean quieted.

Caleb struggled to push himself upright and Sam quickly moved to help him. “God. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” He gestured to Catherine. “Check her.”

Sam rested his fingers on her throat, relieved at the strong pulse. “She’s alive.” The woman jerked beneath his touch, her eyes opened, widening in terror.

“Oh God…did that…is she…” She started to shake.

“It’s okay,” Sam tried. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Unless you can’t fix this.” Caleb made it to his knees, glaring at the traumatized doctor. “What the hell did you give him and how do we fix it?”

“I…” Catherine stammered, shrinking back. “I didn’t want to. I…” She closed her eyes, tears streaking her face as she shook harder beneath Sam’s touch. “God…the things she made me do to him…” Her thoughts broke off in inconsolable sobs, as she twisted herself into a fetal position.

Caleb exhaled heavily. “Fuck.”

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let her process…”

“Process! She’s been possessed by a fucking demon, made to torture another human being. You think her academic ass is going to swallow that?”

“I didn’t know!” Catherine cried. “I didn’t know what it would do…I swear.I never imagined…”

“Damn it.” Caleb looked at Sam. “This is not turning out how we planned.”

Sam glanced towards his brother, who despite being in obvious misery was still breathing. His eyes traveled to Catherine, who was a blubbering mess, but alive and holding the amulet in her hand. “Things could have been a whole hell of a lot worse.” The tarnished chain with the rusted ancient pendant was still wrapped in her fingers. Sam reached out and took it, offering it back to Caleb. “We still have everything that’s important.”

They both watched as Sam’s touch changed the amulet to its pristine state, the pendant sparkling between them. Caleb’s quick intake of breath brought Sam’s gaze from the necklace to his friend’s disbelieving gold gaze.

There was the truth, winking at Sam in shame. There wasn't anything to say, this was the evidence he was tainted by the Yellow Eyed Demon.

“Sammy…”

"I don't want to talk about it." This wasn't the time, or the place, maybe after they saved Dean.

“Boys!” Bobby’s sharp voice echoed around them. “I need help over here.”

Caleb snatched the chain from Sam, his fearful gaze glancing towards the mechanic.

"I'm sorry..." Sam muttered.

Caleb shook his head, shoving the necklace in his pocket as they both rushed over to where Dean lay.

Only the sight of his brother’s open eyes, filled with coherence and agony held him together, allowed him to compartmentalize what had just happened with the amulet recognizing his demon heritage. Thankfully, Bobby had not seen the exchange.

“Dean?" Sam crouched down, Bobby moving over to take a position at the top of Dean's head, while Caleb kneeled beside him.

"Deuce?" Sam noticed Caleb’s hand shook as he rested it on the side of Dean's face.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but only managed a strangled cry. He rolled towards them as if seeking some kind of shelter from the torment. Sam and Caleb worked together to uncoil Dean, so he lay flat again.

Caleb cleared his throat. “We’re here now, Kiddo. We’re going to fix this.”

Sam wanted to believe it was that simple. He prayed for some instantaneous aid to end Dean’s suffering.

“His pulse is off the chart. We need to get him calmed down before he goes into shock,” Bobby said, shrugging off his top shirt. “We’ll lose him.”

Sam mimicked Bobby and added his shirt over Dean to keep his brother warm, and try to delay shock from setting in.

“I didn’t understand…” Catherine continued to wail. “I thought I was helping my country, then that thing…”

Dean gasped and jerked out of their grasp, curling again into a ball on his side. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and one hand clutched a fistful of shirt at his shoulder, as if trying to pull the pain 

from his body. Through gritted teeth he breathed a plea, “God… make it stop.” The contracting wave of pain seemed to wane and he dropped his head against Sam's knee.

Sam’s whole body reacted to Dean’s voice. He had never seen his brother in such a state, and it paralyzed him.

“We will,” Caleb whispered and laid a hand across his friend’s forehead before closing his eyes to focus on lending some kind of aid.

Dean’s muscles seized again and he curled further into himself as pain forced out another strangled cry. “Please, just… anything, stop…”

Sam felt like a war photographer behind the camera, he watched from a detached distance. Getting closer would shatter the walls of the surreal cocoon that space kept intact; maybe if he stayed perfectly motionless then time around them would hold still as well and Dean’s condition wouldn’t worsen. Fury and helplessness twisted his stomach, and he tried to swallow away the lump in his throat and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder adding in his presence. He wanted to let his brother know he was there.

Again, Caleb's hand shook, but the tremor went up his arm. “Caleb? Can you help him?”

“I can’t reach him…” The other psychic met Sam’s gaze. “It’s too deep. He’s too deep. I can’t get in without hurting him more.”

"Get a grip, Junior," Bobby ordered. "Let's regroup, move him the hell out of here, take the girl with us and. . ."

“Eli,” Sam interrupted Bobby as he thought out loud. “We could have Eli help him, at least until we can get Catherine to talk.” Eli could do his psychic trick of deadening pain. It would give them some time. Sam didn't know how far away they were now.

Caleb nodded, “Do it.”

Sam watched Bobby move away to make the call, turning his back to them to distance himself from Dean’s cries. He returned his gaze to Caleb, who was struggling to raise Dean off the floor.

“Body heat,” the other psychic justified the intimate move. “My temperature has to be up from the possession.”

Sam felt his mouth twitch, almost managing a smile. “Dean would appreciate the sacrifice.”

“He’d kick my ass,” Caleb said, wrapping one arm around Dean’s chest, the other cradling the side of his face.

“He’s really bad…” Sam choked, all levity fleeing him.

“But he’ll pull through.” Caleb dropped his chin to rest against Dean’s head. “Isn’t that right, Deuce?”

Sam bit his lip as he watched Dean's too-pale face, covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Dark lashes, wet and thick with saltwater moisture, twitched in response to the eyes’ frantic movement behind closed lids, his brother’s breathing fast and labored. Dean continued to shiver violently, despite the extra warmth Caleb was offering. He let loose with another string of pleas for their help and Sam felt his own eyes begin to sting.

Caleb closed his, falling into a gentle rocking motion where he continued to whisper reassurances that Sam hoped his brother could understand.

Behind them, the sound of Catherine being sick had Sam blinking away the hot moisture, anger and irritation shoving to the forefront, fueling his emotional rollercoaster ride.

Bobby shut his phone, rejoining them. Sam hadn’t even realized the conversation was occurring as he focused on his brother. The older hunter gave him a tight smile. "They're less than an hour out."

“Good.” Caleb looked up. He jutted his chin towards Catherine. “See if you can calm her the fuck down before I strangle her.”

Sam noticed the threat was said softly and spoken in the same calming tone he’d used with Dean just half a minute before. It rang with all the more finality for it.

Sam crossed his legs, preparing to stay in the position for a while. He added to Caleb’s dialogue when the other psychic’s voice grew hoarse. This was their last ditch effort to keep Dean with them to somehow hold the unseen enemy at bay. He watched as Caleb slid his hand through Dean’s hair, confessing yet another torrid story about some model he’d met in Florence.

Sam didn’t know why he struggled with providing tactile comfort. He liked to blame it on his father, on the John Winchester way of repressing every feeling but anger. But that didn’t explain Dean and Caleb, both as much or even more indoctrinated by Dad. Maybe it had begun at Stanford, when he’d blocked off so much of himself to allow the distance he needed from his family. Jess’s death only solidified his boundaries…then Madison. Every time Sam let his guard down, he was hurt, or even worse someone he loved was taken away.

“Sam?”

Sam blinked, realizing Caleb had said his name more than once. He was also holding his brother's hand too tight, and relaxed his grip. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Sam looked down at his brother now lying between them. Over the last few days he’d wished for nothing more than Dean to be with them, to be the buffer, but never anything like this. “No.” He felt to blame, he felt exhaustion and concern mingling together, and overpowering fear. Sam didn't speak further because he sensed Elijah.

“They’re here.” Caleb said, announcing the brothers.

Ethan and Elijah burst in with Ethan holding his gun at the ready. “What the hell happened out there?”

Sam shook his head. “We'll explain later.” He shifted his gaze from one brother to the other.

“Ruby had a revelation half way to Chicago and ditched us.” Ethan tapped his head. “She said you two were having better luck and that you might need back up.”

"Then Bobby called. . ." Elijah continued.

At the mention of his name the older hunter came over escorting Catherine with an arm around her waist.

Ethan jerked his head towards the pale doctor. “That the missing mad scientist?”

Bobby nodded. “She's ready to cooperate. She needs a couple of things"

Ethan extended a hand to her. "Dr. Blake, my name is Ethan Matthews and I'm a detective with the Houston PD. Just let us know what you need and we'll help you help our friend."

She took a shaky breath, running her hands down her coat. “There’s a small lab in a storage area below us. I could use a hand.”

"Bobby and I will go with her." Ethan announced as he and Bobby flanked Catherine and went to the downstairs lab.

“How’s he doing?” Eli crouched down near Dean.

“Not good,” Sam said.

“I called Carolyn. Asked her to send a cleanup crew.”

Sam looked at him. “Shit. All the dead bodies.” He hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

“I didn’t mean to overstep…”

“No.” Sam ran a hand over his mouth, wondering at how Mackland kept up with it all. “I’m glad you did it. Some Scholar I’m going to be.”

Eli squeezed his shoulder. “I think you had other things on your mind. Scholars have to know how to prioritize.” Eli studied Dean. "Bobby said she gave him some kind of chemical that messes with the brain…makes the body believe it’s experiencing a horrific trauma.” Elijah tilted his head. “It sounded like science fiction.”

“Try watching him go through it,” Caleb growled. “Trust me. It’s real.”

“Caleb…” Sam started. Eli waved him off.

“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go to my ‘professor’ place.”

“Just make him stop hurting.” Caleb’s voice broke and Sam knew the other psychic had reached his edge. “Please.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I need his cooperation. A Guardian’s mind is …different.”

Caleb nodded. “I can take down his blocks.”

Sam brought his thumb to his mouth, chewing on the cuticle. “Are you sure? I thought you said it would hurt him.” He noticed that Caleb’s grip on Dean tightened.

“It will.” Caleb seemed to find a second wind, his face settling with grim determination as he faced Elijah. “That’s where you come in, Runt.”

“Me?” Sam gulped. He didn’t want to make things worse.

“Just hold onto him. He’ll know he’s safe.”

Sam reluctantly moved so Caleb could shift his brother, resting Dean against Sam. He would do anything to make this easier on his brother since there had been many times growing up he had been the bratty younger brother making Dean's life difficult.

“You ready?” Eli asked.

Caleb nodded. “Whenever you are.”

Sam watched as the professor closed his eyes, brow wrinkling in concentration. “I’ll work as quickly as possible.”

Caleb brought his hand from Dean’s chest to rest gently against his face. For once Sam was not envious of the other psychic’s power or control, his ability to master their shared gift. “I’m sorry, Kiddo. This is for your own good.”

He a glanced to Sam, uncertainty splayed on his face. “He’ll understand.” Sam said softly, clinging tightly to his brother. Caleb closed his eyes.

Dean cried out, jerking in Sam’s arms, bucking against the mental assault. Sam, held tighter, “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Dean. It’s almost over. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

It was over quickly and soon Dean’s thrashing stopped as he stilled completely in his brother’s embrace.

In under an hour Catherine Blake was kneeling by Dean with three syringes and a fearful look on her pretty face. Sam was sure having Caleb and he hovering over her was only increasing her nervousness. He found it hard to empathize.

“We watched every step she did, Reaves. She’s trying to help,” Ethan assured.

Caleb stared at the doctor. “Just so you know, we have no issue with hunting you down and killing you.” Sam had to give Catherine credit when she merely accepted the threat with a tremulous smile.

“After what I’ve seen from you people I have no problem believing that.” She reached out and ran her fingers through Dean’s sweat-soaked hair. “After what I did to him…” She took Dean’s arm and straightened it. ”I’m not so certain I don’t deserve it.”

Sam winced when he caught sight of the numerous injection marks. “How long will this take?”

Catherine gave Dean the first injection, massaging his arm as if to circulate the medicine faster. “This will only stop any future episodes. It’s a reset of sorts.” She injected the other shot in the same arm before reaching for Dean’s other hand which Caleb held. “I can’t take out what’s already in his system.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Bobby asked.

“It means he will have to wait it out.” She cleared her throat. "I gave…I mean she gave him the last injection only minutes before you arrived. It should wear off before morning. Physically, he’ll be tired, exhausted even…but I swear there should be no lasting damage.”

“That you can see.” The harshness in Sam’s voice surprised him. He had the urge to shake the doctor. “What about everything else?”

“I’m so sorry,” Catherine stammered. “I swear if I could…”

“Just finish it.” Sam tracked Caleb’s movement as he moved away from Dean. The other psychic wavered a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to move before anyone shows up.” It was the future Knight speaking. “I don’t want anyone else seeing him like this.” The Guardian was never to be compromised.

Sam returned his gaze to Dean as the doctor emptied the last syringe and stood, looking anxious once again now that her task was complete. He reclaimed Dean’s hand, allowing himself to hope that the ordeal was nearing its end. “We should go to the farm.” That’s what Dean would want.

“I can come in case he needs me,” Elijah said. “I’m not sure how long my work will hold under the circumstances.”

“I can escort Dr. Blake to the local PD, score one for Houston’s finest and then meet up with you there,” Ethan added.

Sam rested a hand on Dean’s chest, looking to Caleb. The psychic gave a quick nod. “Let’s take him home.”
RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Simmering apples and cinnamon tickled Dean’s nose. A cool breeze brushed against his skin. The soft sound of Mozart mingled with wind chimes, filling the air. Dean knew before he opened his eyes that he was in Pastor Jim’s kitchen. He was home.

Dean released the breath he had been holding, receding pain making him weak in the knees. He gripped the back of a chair with both hands, steadying himself.

Dean blinked, surprised at the spread before him. The table was set. Golden fried chicken piled on Miss Emma’s cornflower blue china platter, mashed potatoes and gravy, meatloaf, and corn on the cob- all of Dean’s favorites. Right down to the apple pie, rolls and cornbread muffins. A sweating pitcher of sweet tea topped off the feast.

Plates were laid out at each chair, ice settling in glasses expecting drinks to be poured. The butter was melting on its dish and steam rose from a bowl of dumplings. It was as if everyone had vanished before touching the meal…or maybe the meal was waiting for them to arrive.

Dean slid a shaky hand over his mouth. His time with Jim at the pond now seemed like a long remembered dream, the moments afterward jagged fragments of awareness. What was happening to him?

Thoughts of Sam pierced his mind, like streaks of sunshine through the slats of the barn at high noon. His brother had been with him, somehow…somewhere, Caleb too. That much he remembered. He could still hear the echo of their voices; feel the ghost of their touches. They were frightened. He had been frightened. Dean’s heart rate sped up. There was pain. He remembered screaming, but wasn’t sure if it was all his or maybe Sammy or Caleb.

“Shit…Am I’m dead?”

“Not quite, but I was worried there for a moment.”

Dean turned at the sound of the voice. Gideon Lane was leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen door, arms folded. He wore a light blue t-shirt and faded jeans and when he dropped his hands to join Dean by the table, Dean couldn’t stop his eyes from going to the man’s chest. The bloody mess he remembered from Wyoming was gone.

“I’m pretty sure you’re dead.”

Gideon laughed. “You got me there.” He slid one of the chairs out, taking a seat. “But like Jim used to say, 'Death is not a noun, nor is it permanent. It’s merely a different phase of existing.'”

Dean dropped his head to study the wood floor. “More profound speak from Jim’s Weird World.”

“I’m glad to know I wasn’t the only one who didn’t always get the man.”

Dean lifted his gaze at the sound of liquid being poured. Gideon filled one of the glasses with tea, set it in front of the chair Dean was standing behind, then served himself one. “You hungry? Because I’m starved.”

Dean looked around the room, his mouth watering at the prospect of something to drink. “Where is everybody?” It was the setting for Dean’s perfect day, minus the people. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, Boy Scout, but when I’m at the farm…”

“You expect to see your family,” Gideon supplied.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Gideon picked up the plate of chicken, putting a breast in Dean’s plate before dropping both drumsticks onto his. “Jim thought I should come. He seemed to think I could give you some much needed perspective.”

Dean sat down. “Perspective?”

The sound of click clacks on the wooden stairs in the parlor interrupted Gideon’s answer. There was a ruckus in the living room - a couple of thuds and a yip. Dean pushed his chair back just as Atticus Finch and Scout came tearing around the corner, racing to see who would be first for the coveted spot under the dinner table.

Dean felt his eyes sting, emotion settling in his throat. “You two always could hear chicken hit the plate from a mile away.”

Atticus made it to him first, beating out Scout by a body length, a feat that never happened in his old life. The Golden Retriever was nearly seventy in human years before Scout came along, and his hips never quite allowed him to outdo the rowdy Labrador Retriever. He had to rely on favoritism and sympathy to get the good pieces that were dropped below Sammy’s chair.

Dean knelt, leaning forward. He buried his face in the ruff of fur at Atticus’s neck as the dog reared on his haunches, front paws on Dean’s shoulders. “Good to see you, Boy.” Atticus smiled.

A quick cold nudge at his elbow had him moving back so Scout could nuzzle her way beneath his arm; tongue already out in preparation for her usual greeting. He took his eyes from the dogs long enough to look at Gideon. “If I’m not dead, how the hell is all this possible, man? First Jim…now you and these two.”

“It’s a Guardian thing, Triad magic.” Gideon grinned as Scout and Atticus wound their way under the table, threading their lithe bodies around the chairs with heads peeking out and mouths at the ready. He licked his fingers. “At least that’s the only answer I’ve gotten from Jim and Julian.”

Dean reclaimed his chair. “Your grandfather?” He looked around the room. “He’s here, too?”

“Not here, here.” Gideon smiled at his confusion. "But here just the same.”

“Are all dead people cryptic, or just twisted in my freaky head?”

“A little of both.”

“Great.” Dean sighed, gesturing to the other empty spots. “So, should I be expecting more company or is it just the four of us for dinner.”

Gideon shrugged enigmatically. “You never know who might show up.”

“Under the circumstances, I guess I should be thankful Sammy and Caleb aren’t on the guest list.”

“Yeah. I think so.” Gideon picked up the bowl of potatoes, dumping a heaping scoop on his plate before offering them to Dean. “I can’t wait to see Ethan and Eli, but I prefer it be in about fifty years or so.”

“So we’re just going to sit here and have dinner?” Dean frowned, wondering what the hell was happening in the conscious world this time. “I have a life to get back to.”

“Obviously your mind thinks you don’t need to be there at the moment.”

“Yeah. Well…my gut says differently.”

Gideon rolled his eyes, shoving the potatoes towards Dean. “I think listening to your ‘gut’ has gotten you into this mess.”

Dean took the bowl, with an indignant scowl. “I’ll have you know I have the instincts of seasoned war veteran. Twenty year tour of duty under my belt.”

“Too bad those fine tuned hunting instincts aren’t what you’ve been listening to.” Gideon grabbed two biscuits.

“No?” Dean filled half his plate with potatoes. “Then what do you call it?”

Gideon met his gaze. “I think it’s called your heart, Winchester. Yours tends to speak really, really loudly.”

“You think you know so much about me?” Dean snorted, taking his own biscuit and then two more which he tossed to Atticus and Scout. “I’m an enigma.”

Gideon motioned for Dean to pass him the corn. “I might have bought that before Wyoming, but I think I know you pretty well now.”

Dean handed him the corn. “Did that bullet hole make you smarter?”

“Ouch.” Gideon’s hand went to his chest, the other taking the corn from Dean. “Being tortured by demons makes you grumpy.”

“Pass the damn gravy,” Dean grumbled. He took the gravy boat, watching as Gideon enthusiastically added corn and then dumplings to his meal. “Just how many dinners did you and the Wonder Twins have here?”

Gideon didn’t hide his grin as he pulled the apple pie closer to him. “Not many. But we learned quickly to look forward to them.”

“Good.” Dean couldn’t help but to take a little consolation in the fact their understudies hadn’t spent as much time at the farm as they feared.

Gideon laughed, putting down the corn bread muffin he was holding. “What? Did you guys honestly think that your rooms became ‘our’ rooms on alternating weekends and summers? That maybe Jim had 

Ethan’s basketball card collection, my model cars and Elijah’s beakers stashed somewhere up in the attic, changing them out after you guys were gone?”

Dean poured gravy over his corn and potatoes. That’s exactly what he had thought. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re so not replaceable.”

“Yeah.” Gideon reached over Dean’s plate for the peas. “We kind of hated you all for it.”

Dean shot Gideon a surprised look. “You hated us?”

“Don’t look so stunned.” Gideon raised a brow. “Visiting here was like being a fifth cousin removed. Welcomed, but not really.”

Dean frowned. “I can’t believe Pastor Jim would treat you any different than…”

“Family?” Gideon interjected. “Don’t get me wrong, Winchester. Pastor Jim was great. He was always good to us, but trust me when I say that there was never any blurring of the lines, no misunderstanding about who belonged at this farm.” He gestured to Atticus and Scout who were both lying attentive at Dean’s feet, Scout’s head resting on his scuffed boot. “We knew who their ‘boys’ were. Jim’s too.”

“That must have sucked.”

Gideon shrugged, tearing open a biscuit to slather in butter. “Not really. I mean...I had a normal family of my own. Mom and Dad are like the Cleavers, minus Mom’s ties to the hunting world. Ethan and Eli had a pretty typical one parent household, at least until Jarrett died, and then Griffin stepped in. Like I said before, Jim made the right choices all the way around.”

“This was the only home Sammy and I knew after my mom…” Dean waved a hand to the table. “The only kind of normal we were allowed. Any time we spent here was like…”

“Heaven?”

Dean exhaled. “Are you reading my mind?”

“Not a lot of secrets here.” Gideon smiled, sliding the butter dish towards Dean. “But I’m glad to know your subconscious isn’t completely ruled by your stomach.”

“I’m not sure I can say the same for you. You spending the afterlife just hanging at the farm, mooching Jim’s apple pie?” Dean picked up a knife taking a slab of butter.

“Like I said, this is a Guardian thing.”

“But you’re not a Guardian.” Dean didn’t mean to sound superior but Wyoming had cleared up any doubts.

“Thanks to you, I aced the final exam at the last minute,” Gideon explained. “I didn’t exactly get an A, but I at least passed.”

“But you’re dead.” Dean finished with his biscuit, pointing the dripping knife at Gideon.

“Thanks for pointing that out yet again.” Gideon leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m just getting a different kind of training now.”

Dean returned his utensils to the side of his plate, sittin up in his chair. “So, this is a Star Wars thing…like when Luke can see all the past Jedi Knights?”

Gideon frowned for a moment before recognition lit his blue eyes. He grabbed his napkin unrolling it before dropping it in his lap. “Yeah. I guess it’s kind of the same, although I’m not sure about that whole Force thing.”

Dean picked up his tea taking a long drink. “I wouldn’t let Damien hear you say that. He’s a big believer.”

Gideon placed his fork on one side, spoon on the other. “Ethan has seen all those movies at least a hundred times.”

“Knight thing?” Dean said.

“Probably.”

“Better than the geeky Scholars.” Dean faked a shiver of repulsion and set his glass down. “The theory of quantum physics is definitely a downer.”

“Definitely.”

Dean fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable now that his plate was full and there was nothing left to do with his hands. “So…are there enough fast cars for you in the afterlife?”

“If that’s your way of asking about the other side…I can promise you I’m fine. Like Jim, I made the best choice.”

“To die?” Dean felt a twinge of anger flare, guilt threatening to ruin their amicable discussion. “That’s always a stupid choice.”

Gideon cocked his head to one side, giving Dean a ‘you’re kidding me’ look. “One you chose for yourself quite willingly.”

“In exchange for my brother’s life.” Dean huffed. “I was nothing to you. As you said, if anything you resented me. Why the hell take a bullet for your trouble?”

Gideon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “You really are an asshole, Winchester. A hypocrite to boot.”

“Excuse me?” Dean looked around. “Are you even supposed to say ‘asshole’ here?”

Gideon ignored the reprimand. “What happened to that speech about the individual over the many you were spouting in Wyoming?”

“I don’t give speeches.” Dean looked skyward. “Jim, so help me if this is your idea of a fun time…”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Gideon continued, tapping his finger on the table. “The bit about the life of one person equaling the importance of the whole.”

Dean glared at him. “No man is forfeit. Not on my team.”

“Except for you.”

“A good General is willing to die for his men.”

“If the General is dead, who’s going to guide the rest of the troops?”

“That’s why you have a really good second in command.”

“I was your second in command.”

“And you went and got yourself killed. Whose fault is that?”

“I died so you could lead.”

“But that’s not fair.”

Gideon threw his hands in the air. “I thought you already learned that particular lesson from Jim.”

Dean placed his hands flat on the table, trying to reign in his temper. Lane was ruining his happy place. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. In many ways I could never begin to understand you.”

“I’m an enigma,” Dean said.

“I was referring to the fact that I never lost anyone I was really close to in my life. Never. I never had a dog, not even a goldfish.”

Atticus barked and Dean looked at Gideon. “He doesn’t appreciate the comparison. Fish fall far short of the canine bar.”

“Stop dodging.” Gideon rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to explain to you that I was never touched by death. Not like you.”

Dean cleared his throat, realizing the Boy Scout wasn’t about to let the conversation go until he’d made his point. “What about Julian?”

“I was too young when Julian passed. I don’t have any siblings. Until Jarrett died, I don’t think I even comprehended grief, and even then it was limited and mostly second handed because I was at college when Ethan and Eli struggled through it.”

Dean licked his lips. “What does any of that have to do with me? It sounds like you lived a blessed life. Good for you. All the more reason not to throw it down the drain.”

“I didn’t realize what losing one integral person could do to you, the emptiness it could leave.” He licked his lips. “Maybe that’s why I talked a good game about being willing to watch someone I love die if it was in the name of something greater.”

Dean met his gaze. “There is nothing greater than love.” The words rang true, and Dean took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “At least that’s what Pastor Jim says.”

Gideon held his gaze. “He’s right. I realized that in Wyoming. Watching you and Sam when Caleb drowned…then the fear and dread I experienced when Ian threatened to shoot Ethan and Eli. It all clicked into place. There can be no real sacrifice if one doesn’t understand what’s to be lost. Dying isn’t so terrible for the person gone, but for the disaster it leaves in its wake. So when I took that bullet for you, I understood fully what I’d be doing to everyone I loved, what I’d be taking from them and in turn what I would lose.”

“That’s great. It makes what you did even more insane.” Dean pounded his clenched fists on the table, dishes and glasses clanking together. He glared at Gideon. “You knew the costs but you went ahead and did it anyway.”

“Yes,” Gideon confessed. “Just as you did when you gave your soul for Sam’s life. You need to accept that.”

Dean opened his mouth, closed it. Gideon had cornered him perfectly.

“We both made the ultimate sacrifice for Brotherhood, Dean.”

”It is not the same thing, damn it!”

“I’m sorry.” Gideon sat back in his chair. “Whether it’s for a thousand men or one individual, it is the same.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Do you regret it?”

“Only that I left Ethan and Elijah. That I know they’re suffering and nothing can change that. It will be the same for your brothers. ”

“But they’ll be okay…” Dean was thinking mainly of Sam and Caleb, but also of Ethan and Elijah. “Time heals all wounds and shit. They’ll move on, and things will get better. Right?”

Gideon’s gaze softened. “I’m thinking time makes you realize just how much you miss the person that’s gone, and what an impact they made on you. Things may move on; but they’ll always be different.”

Dean leaned forward. “You suck, Lane. I liked spending my time at the pond a whole hell of a lot better than this verbal chess game with you.”

“You can’t learn everything you need to floating around out their fishing, Winchester.”

“You saying I can either suffer unimaginable agony or hang out with you?” Dean snorted. “The roasting over a spit is looking better and better.”

“Suit yourself.” He pulled Jim’s favorite dessert dish closer to him. “More pie for me.”

Dean huffed. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Probably planning on cleaning off a few shelves upstairs for your gay model cars, too.”

“Thought about it,” Gideon said. “But I plan on eating dinner first. Now that the other guests have arrived.”

Atticus and Scout made it to their feet, whining as their whole bodies wagged in anticipation. “What guests? Who’s coming?”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around and found out.”

“But I have to get back. Sammy and Caleb…”

“Are doing what they have to. You can’t keep finding fault when other people make the same choices you do.”

Dean looked at the six empty chairs, then to the opened kitchen door where Atticus and Scout were dancing and prancing. His brother and Damien were waiting, probably worried…maybe worse. But the pain was easy to remember, the relentless suffering that took hold like the unforgiving jaws of a hell hound.

“It’s okay to want something just for yourself.”

At Gideon’s soft voice, Dean turned to face him. “You have no idea what I want.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Gideon nodded towards the door. “That bullet hole did make me a little bit smarter.”

Dean bit his lip. “But…”

Gideon leaned on the table, one brow raised. “Come on, Winchester. Haven’t you always wanted to meet Miss Emma?”

Dean swallowed. “Jim’s Emma?”

“The one and only.”

“She’s here?”

“They’re all here.”

Atticus and Scout barked. Dean’s heart began to pound. A gentle summer breeze drifted in through the screen and the scent of gun oil and daisies filled the room.

“No way…”

Gideon lightly touched his arm, bringing his disbelieving gaze from the door once more. “Anything’s possible. It’s important you remember that.”

Dean nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around the possibility of an unearthly reunion. “Okay.”

“And about that one regret…Ethan and Eli are good guys, the best. Take care of them for me. That’s all I ask.”

“You know I will.”

Gideon’s smile returned and he rubbed his hands together. “Now what about this pie? I think we should secure our share before the crowd shows up.”

“Smart move.” Dean felt his own grin spread as familiar footsteps sounded on the porch, a laugh he would never forget. “Dad can eat his weight in pie.”
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