Growing Pains
By: Ridley C. James
Beta: Tidia
Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me. All the lovelies belong
to Kripke Enterprise and the CW.
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Chapter 4/5
“You knew better than this!” John Winchester stormed around the small
living area of the remote hunting cabin. He alternated between raking
his hands through his dark hair and rubbing them roughly over his
bearded face. “What the hell were you thinking, Caleb?”
John didn't even want to look at the psychic. Every time he did his
blood pressure shot up a few digits. All he could see through the
red-haze of anger was the image of his ten-year-old son, bloodied and
broken, cradled in Caleb’s arms.
He and the others had burst into the eerily glowing clearing a few
hours before dawn, expecting the worst. But Winchester hadn't been
prepared for one of his children to be so close to death.
The former Marine didn't give the young man time to answer before he
stopped his pacing in front of him. “Never mind. You weren't thinking!”
he barked. “Because if you had been thinking you would have realized
that taking my sons out into the woods to hunt for a Black Dog was
completely unacceptable.”
Reaves tried to look anywhere but at Winchester. Of course it was hard
considering the man was mere inches from his face, in full-blown drill
sergeant mode. It was useless to give him the lame excuse he had run
over and over in his head as they had trudged silently back to the
cabin. Honestly, he had never meant for their little excursion to turn
into a hunt, but he'd been around enough to know things rarely worked
out the way they were suppose to. And Dean paid the price for his
idiotic decision. No lame excuse, no matter how sincere, was going to
make that right. “I'm sorry.”
“Damn right you're sorry. I trusted you,” John hissed. “I thought you
could handle a simple order.”
“I did follow orders,” Reaves finally snapped. “You told me to stay
with the boys. I did stay with them.”
“In the cabin!” John roared. “I told you to stay here!”
“That wasn't exactly what you said,” Joshua spoke up, bringing all eyes
to him.
Boone Adams shook his head at the stupid kid's ignorance and continued
cleaning his colt revolver in silence. Jim had ordered him to play
referee while he was patching up Dean, but he had no desire to tangle
with a riled grizzly at the moment. After all, unlike Joshua, he knew
when to keep his damn mouth shut.
“Stay out of this!” Winchester barked. Sawyer gave Caleb a sympathetic
look, as he retreated back to his side of the room. At least he'd tried.
The livid man turned back to Reaves. “Dean could have been killed! He
looks up to you-tries to do what you do.” He shook his head. “And
Sammy…he's a baby. We could have lost them. ”
John was too angry to mention the fact that Caleb could have also been
hurt. How in the hell would he have explained that to Mackland? The man
trusted him to look out for the kid. “This mess of yours could have
turned out a whole hell of a lot worse. I'm just glad they made it out
alive.”
When they first arrived back to the cabin and found it empty, John had
convinced himself the boys had conned Caleb into taking them fishing.
Then it had started to grow dark. Soon after Atticus had started acting
up, pawing at his head, howling. It was like some warped scene out of
Lassie, but something inside of him had just known the boys were in
trouble. “I should have known something like this would happen.”
“And how many times have you screwed up?” Caleb growled, growing very
tired of being dressed down in front of the other hunters-who were by
all means practically strangers. John was treating him like a kid, and
it struck a chord deep inside-feeling too much like betrayal. “I know
how to take care of them.”
“I'm their father!” John roared.
“When it's convenient!”
Boone lifted his gaze, raised one fiery-red brow as he watched
Winchester's face blanch. His muscles tensed, ready to intervene on the
fool-hearty pup's behalf if need be. He gave Reaves credit. The kid had
guts. But that wouldn't get him very far if he was dead.
John wrapped his hands in the younger hunter's shirt, slammed him
roughly against the mortar and log wall behind them. Atticus whined
fretfully, trying to shift his large body in between the two.
Winchester ignored the dog, giving Caleb another hard shove. “This
isn't about me! If you'd done your job, then Dean wouldn't be in there
burning up with fever, being stitched together like one of Sam's
torn-up stuffed toys. Me and Boone might have found the Black, instead
of having to track your asses down. You can't even take care of
yourself! I never should have brought you.”
Hurt flashed through the liquid amber eyes and Caleb blinked away the
rush of pain. “I sure the hell didn't ask to come!” he snarled, shoving
Winchester out of his personal space, breaking the older man's hold.
“And I didn't ask to be your damn nanny either! Next time get Joshua or
one of the other 'grown-ups' to take care of your boys. I don't want
anything else to do with them-or you.”
With that he pushed past John and stormed outside, leaving Atticus to
whimper and paw at the door in his wake.
“You handled that well,” Joshua sighed, and frowned when Boone's
big-footed boot struck out and banged against his shin. “Ow.”
“You got something to say, Sawyer?” Winchester turned on the blond,
giving him a look that would have sent older, wiser men shrinking away
with their tails between their legs.
“Actually,” Boone cleared his throat, loudly, but Joshua ignored him,
“I was just going to say how I always kind of envied Reaves…until now.”
Sawyer took a few steps in John's direction, but stayed out of striking
distance. “I mean somehow he ends up in the inner-circle of the
Brotherhood, saunters in like he was born to be here-which we all know
he wasn't.”
“He has as much right as you,” John snapped. He could say whatever the
hell he wanted about the kid, to the kid, but he'd be damned if he let
anyone else bad mouth one of his own. Especially if that someone was a
Sawyer.
“I don't think so.” Josh shook his head. “My family has been hunters
for generations.” The kid raised his hands in the air and laughed. “My
grandfather was a Knight. That's all my father has ever wanted for me.
But that's not going to happen. Is it?”
Winchester looked away, and the younger man continued. “You don't have
to answer that because I know the truth, but you know what? If working
with the great John Winchester means being ripped to shreds on a daily
basis, trying to live up to some impossible standard, then I'm glad I
don't measure up. Reaves is a much better man for that job than me.”
Joshua started out of the room, but then stopped and faced John once
more. “And I don't know if this even matters to you, but Caleb risked
his life to save your children. Even before the Black reared its head,
he watched out for them. And trust me when I say this, they aren't
exactly bundles of sunshine.”
He shook his head. “For some reason, that I can't fathom, he apparently
is attached to them-whether that's something you've ingrained or he
just happens to care about them, I'm not sure. But I'd say either
way-they're pretty lucky to have him on their side.”
Jim Murphy cleared his throat then, bringing all eyes to him. He was
standing unnoticed in the doorway of the small bedroom. “I have a
patient trying to rest, you know. All the yelling isn't really helping.”
“Jim?” John hesitantly moved forward, his face full of haggard worry.
“How is he?”
The priest smiled, but the slight slump of his shoulders, and missing
twinkle in his blue eyes revealed his own concerns. “I think he'll be
fine. The wounds are taken care of and his fever is coming down.” He
nodded to Joshua. “That herbal concoction worked wonders, my boy.”
Sawyer shrugged. “You had all the ingredients.”
“Thank you,” John said, sincerely, looking from Jim to the younger man.
“Both of you.”
“He's still awake if you want to see him.”
Winchester gave a quick nod and moved past the minister, and into the
small lantern-lit room. Two sets of bunk-beds, an overflowing bookshelf
and one nightstand filled the tiny space. John wasn't surprised to find
both his boys crowded into one of the bottom bunks. He sat on the side
nearest Dean. “You don't have to play possum, Sammy. I won't make you
move.”
Both boys opened their eyes and his youngest son peeked up at him from
beneath the quilt, but didn't move from his spot curled near his
brother. John ran his hand over his eldest's hair, who blinked dazedly
up at him. “How you doing, Ace?” He looked better since being cleaned
up. Some of his color had returned and he wasn't trembling.
“I'm good, Dad,”
John laughed, cursing the stinging he could feel starting behind his
eyes. “Sure you are kiddo.” Stitched and drugged was not fine in his
book. What the hell kind of parent was he?
“Are you mad at me?”
“What?” John frowned, snapping from his self-incriminating thoughts. He
rubbed a hand over his bearded face. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“You were yelling.” Dean swallowed thickly, fighting the tug of sleep
now that his body was warm and the pain had been dulled by Jim's care.
“Everything sounds loud in this box, son.”
“You were yelling at Caleb,” Sam spoke up quietly. John didn't miss the
accusing look in the little boy's gaze.
“He didn't follow orders. That gets people hurt, Sammy. It got your
brother hurt.”
“I didn't follow orders, Dad,” Dean said, weakly.
“Caleb was in charge, son.”
“I know. And he told me to stay in the protection circle while he went
after Sammy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had to go!” Sam wailed as if he was spilling his guts to a grilling
detective holding a white-hot light over his head. “I couldn't hold it,
so I went off by myself. I'm sorry. I didn't want Dean to get hurt, and
Caleb to get in big trouble.” A few fat tears zigzagged down his
flushed cheeks. “He don't want to be our friend no more. He hates us.”
John sighed. “None of that matters. He should have never taken you out
into those woods.”
“It was stupid Joshua's idea.” Dean said, softly. “He kept bragging how
he was going to find the Black's lair-get a real Hunter's ring.”
“He couldn't find his own ass in the dark,” Sam added, confidently.
“Samuel!” John admonished, and didn't miss the guilt that flashed
across his older son's face. No need to wonder about where the
five-year-old had heard that poignant observation.
Sam burrowed under the covers again before meekly replying. “Well…it's
true. His toy was broken.”
The oldest Winchester looked at Dean. “What's he talking about?”
“Josh had a tracking thing. Caleb told him not to go, but he wouldn't
listen.”
John looked down at the floor, rubbed a hand over the taunt muscles in
the back of his neck. “So, Caleb went with him.” First rule he'd driven
into Caleb's brain. He was never to hunt alone.
Dean nodded. “Told you it was big shot Josh's fault.”
“Caleb still should have known better than to take you boys in the
first place.”
“But he saved us, Daddy.” Sam pointed out. “Joshua was going to make us
swim across a giant river.” He waited for his father to look at him,
and widened his eyes for effect. “And I can't even swim!”
“And he shot the Black,” Dean added, softly. “He took care of me, even
without the supplies he'd packed. I took the first aid kit out of the
bag,” the ten-year-old explained when his father raised a questioning
brow.
John shook his head, held up a hand. “I think I get the picture boys.”
“See.” Sam looked at him. “I think Joshua should get a time out.”
“He's a little big for a time out, Sammy.”
“You could scream at him like you did Caleb.”
“I wasn't screaming at Caleb. At least I didn't mean to scream at him.”
Now Dean glanced up at his father. “Did he mean what he said…about not
wanting to be around us anymore?”
John shook his head. “He's just pissed at me, Ace.” Really pissed and
hurt.
“Are you going to say you're sorry?” Sam asked, hopefully.
The oldest Winchester sighed heavily. “Apparently, I have no choice in
the matter.”
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John hesitated at the door, glancing down at Atticus who was still
sitting there, looking forlornly up at the handle, as if he was willing
it to open. The dog hadn't wanted to let the young hunter out of his
site after their whole mind-melding experience. “I guess you couldn't
get a mental reading on our boy or anything could you?”
The dog looked up at him, thumped his tail against the floor.
“Right.” Winchester grabbed his coat from the peg on the wall and
picked up Jim's heavy hunting jacket also. “Let's go get Timmy out of
the fucking well.”
It didn't take them long to find him. He was only fifty yards away
resting against the large pile of firewood Jim kept stacked under a
homemade lean-to. The idiot was still in short-sleeves and John could
tell by the way he had his arms wrapped across his chest he was
freezing.
“Here,” Winchester shoved Jim's jacket in his direction. “You're
risking hypothermia, especially considering you were out in the
elements for hours without proper gear.”
Reaves took the coat, but gave him a withering look as he slipped into
it. “You come out here to lecture me about proper gear now? I'm sorry I
forgot the fucking first aid kit.”
He'd already been reamed a new one for that. Atticus pawed at Reaves
until he bent down to pet him.
“Dean said he took it out.”
Caleb rolled his eyes, continuing to give the Retriever a rub-down.
“Well, Deuce is delirious with fever.”
“Not now. He's doing a lot better.”
Reaves shrugged. “Thanks to Josh's little witch's brew.”
“Thanks to you shooting that Black Dog.”
The psychic looked up at him, going still. “I didn't kill it.”
John sighed. Maybe Sawyer was right about the impossible standard
thing. “You kept it from killing Dean. That's all that matters.” A
small point he chose to ignore earlier. Sometimes it was easy to forget
Caleb was just eighteen, he was still figuring things out.
Caleb stood back up, Atticus leaning into his long, jean-clad legs. “I
thought I put him in needless danger, risked his and Sammy's life for a
stupid, boyish competition.”
“You did.”
Reaves shook his head. “I'm not going to say I'm sorry again. Not to
you.” He'd tell Dean, in his own way. Make it up to him in his own time.
“I don't want you to say you're sorry. I want you to learn from what
happened. Do better next time.”
Caleb raised a brow. “Next time? I thought you didn't trust me anymore,
Johnny.”
“I was pissed at you…still am…but that doesn't change the fact that I
know you.”
The psychic met his gaze, his jaw clenched. “Then you should know I'd
have done anything to keep Dean from getting hurt.” He looked away,
raked a hand through his dark hair. “I'd rather it have been me.”
“Then I would be dealing with Mac,” John said. He rubbed the back of
his neck. “Kid, I can be an ass.”
Reaves met his gaze once more. “As if I haven't noticed.” His mouth
twitched. “After all, I know you, too.”
John laughed. “Yeah, I guess you do.” There was an awkward moment of
silence and Winchester shoved his hand in his jacket pocket, pulled out
a small black bag, which he tossed to Reaves. “This is yours, by the
way.”
Caleb clumsily caught the pouch, shooting him a confused look. He
opened it and a silver ring lay inside. “What…” He glanced back up at
the older hunter, blinking in confusion. “I thought Jim doled these
babies out.” He'd busted his ass to impress the minister every chance
he got, and now John gave him the ring.
Winchester favored him with a rare grin, as if he could read his mind.
“He does, but this is a little different. I've been holding onto this
for you for a while. He thought I should do the honors when I thought
the time was right.”
Caleb frowned, realizing what John was saying. “How long is a while?”
John raised a brow. “A while.” He was thankful the kid didn't press it.
They had all decided it was too much pressure to put on the next
generation to know their destined positions, to learn of the roles they
would someday play.
“And you've chosen this heartwarming moment to give it to me?” When
Winchester remained silent, Reaves sighed, realizing he was banging his
head against a brick wall. It didn't matter. He had a ring now. His
very own ring. He was a part of something-he had brothers. Something
bigger than himself. “Does this mean I can go solo now?”
Winchester snorted. “Hell no. It does not mean that.”
The psychic shrugged. “Whatever.” He stared at the ring again, opening
and closing his hand to get use to the feel of it on his finger.
“Look, kid…”
Caleb forced his eyes from the silver circle, grinned. “That's Hunter
kid to you.”
“And to think Mac thought this would make you even more cocky and
reckless.”
The eighteen-year-old tried to keep the grin off his face. “You were
saying?”
“I was saying…I was pretty hard on you back there.”
“Compared to how you usually coddle me?” Caleb snorted. “I'm kind of
use to the whole tough love thing, Sir.”
John raised a brow. “You're definitely a pain in the ass you know that?”
“Yeah, well, now I'm a pain in the ass with a ring.”
“And you deserve it.”
That shut him up and he stared at John. “Do you really believe that?”
Winchester shook his head. “I wouldn't have given it to you if I
didn't, Junior. And just so you know, I wouldn't be so hard on your ass
if I didn't think you were going to be a damn great hunter some day.”
It wasn't an apology, but it was their way.
Caleb must have agreed because the cocky grin was back. “As good as
you?”
John rolled his eyes. “In theory, the student should surpass the
teacher.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
Winchester took a breath, let it out slowly. “Look, Caleb…I know you
care about the boys.”
Reaves' brow furrowed, and he shot him another serious frown. “What
boys?”
Winchester sighed deeply and the psychic's mouth twitched. “You mean
your boys?” He shrugged. “I can tolerate them…on good days.”
“Yeah, well they think you've washed your hands of them.”
“Is that an option that comes with the ring? No more adventures in
babysitting?”
“I'm being serious. Sammy thinks you don't like them anymore.”
“Sammy jumps to conclusions like his old man.”
“It's in the genes.”
“Or the maturity level.”
“Will you let them know that you're still going to be around to torment
them?”
Caleb nodded, shrugged. “It is kind of my job.”
John held his gaze. “I guess it is.” Someday, it would be a full-time
responsibility. A Knight's mission. “So, you'll go get my ass out of
the sling?”
Reaves grinned. “I suppose I should return the favor.”
The younger hunter started for the cabin, but John reached out and
caught his jacket. “And, Caleb?”
The kid stopped, favoring John with a curious look, “Yeah?”
“I'm glad you made it out of this okay, too.”
Caleb smirked. “You're not going to hug me are you?” He glanced down at
the Golden
Retriever still shadowing him. “Because I've already got one admirer
out of the deal.”
John snorted, letting him go. “I think I can control myself.” He shook
his head. “But what the hell did you do to Atticus?”
Reaves grinned. “Hell if I know. Maybe my distress signal sounded like
a mating call. Dr. Doolittle I am not.”
“Maybe you should ask Mackland about it.”
“And have him do a whole new chapter of research on me? No thanks.”
Caleb walked away, Atticus by his side.
“Yeah, just think of all the experiments he could come up with.”
Reaves stopped, and returned to where John was standing. “Don't even
think about telling him.”
“What's it worth to you?” Winchester rocked back on his heels.
“You're blackmailing me?”
“Hey, whatever it takes. Good babysitters are hard to come by these
days. Especially cheap ones.”
“God, you're a bastard.”
“That's Senior Hunter bastard to you, rookie.”
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