Heroes-Revisited

By Ridley C. James, July 2006 re-edited in 2007

Beta & contributor: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

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Chapter 11/13

Caleb glanced up from the magazine he was reading, catching Sam staring at the clock on the wall-again. "Cut out the pot-watching, Runt."

"The what?"

The older hunter rolled his eyes"You know, the watched pot never boils." Sam frowned, but at least he wasn't staring at the wall, willing the hours to pass by. "Don't you have homework to do or something?"

Sam glanced down at his books spread around him on the hospital bed. "I want to see Dean."

Caleb sighed. "So you haven't changed your mind in the last…" He glanced at his watch, "Seventy-two seconds."

"It's been eighteen hours and twenty-seven minutes since they started."

"Well at least you're keeping up those math skills." Caleb tried to pretend he was once again engrossed in what Madonna was planning for her next album. He'd been through this with Sam about ten times already. The adults had gotten together and decided Sam did not need to stand witness to his brother's precarious state. They'd banned him from Dean's room-sentencing him to wait for updates brought by either Mac or John. John divided his time between sitting with Dean and arguing with Sam.

"It's not fair."

Caleb physically felt the words singe his nerve endings. He had to shut himself off from the teen's emotions. "Sammy, I figured you of all people would know that life's not fair."

Sam slid from the bed and moved to stand in front of Caleb's long legs. "He's my brother."

That was about the twentieth time the other hunter had heard that exact statement. He felt the same about Dean, and wished he could be part of the vigil. He knew Dean would want him to watch over Sam though, so he followed those wishes. His father had also discouraged him from visiting Dean.

"Look, Sammy," he leaned forward, catching the boy by the shoulders. "I get it, okay. Believe me. I got it last night, and early this morning before I'd even had my coffee, and then tonight at dinner. You're worried about him. So am I. But, you know your dad. After he's made up his mind, it would take a lead pipe to get him to change it."

Some of the frustration left Sam’s eyes replaced with haunted longing, and for a moment Caleb felt his own resolve slip. "But he's wrong, Caleb."

The older hunter released him with a sigh. "And that's stopped him before?" John was wrong about a lot of things. It was as much a fact of life as things not being fair.

There they were- the dreaded puppy dog eyes. Sam had somehow sensed his moment of weakness and pounced on it. "You could talk to him."

Caleb laughed with a shake of his head. "He's trying to protect you, Sam. And Mac supported the idea too." If it had just been John then Caleb would have given in, but his father had also warned him to keep Sam away from the ICU. His father’s words were easily recalled. ‘It won’t do either one of you any good to see him like this, Son.’

Sam growled. "Protect me from what?" The righteous teenage indignation was back. If he hadn't known better, Caleb would have sworn the boy was possessed as fast as his emotions were see-sawing. "I already know what's happening. I even read some of Mac's journal articles about it."

Caleb rubbed his weary eyes. "But knowing and watching are two different things, kid. Think about all the bad shit you've researched. Has it ever prepared you for coming face to face with the evil sons of bitches we hunt?"

"No." Sam shrugged.

"Trust me, Sam. It's not easy to watch someone suffer." Caleb understood that all too well. He'd been forced through his visions to watch helplessly as others were hurt and killed. Sam would know that pain for himself one day. It was inevitable. Perhaps Reaves could understand John and Mac wanting to help him hold onto a trace of his innocence for a little longer.

But Sam couldn’t see past his own need for Dean. "You don't get it, Caleb. My imagination is worse." Sam bit his lip. "Every time I close my eyes, I see…"

"What?" Caleb heard himself asking, then the tell-tale squeaking of the lid to Pandora’s Box opening.

Sam shook his head, unwilling or unable to explain the images his mind was offering to him. "I just want to make sure he's okay for myself. I'm tired of hearing Dad's censored crap, talking to me like I'm four." He turned his pleading gaze on Caleb again. "I just want Dean to know I'm here-that I haven't abandoned him." Sam sighed. "You told me that I could count on you-that Dean could count on you. No matter what you said you had our backs."

"Sammy. . ."

"Please, Uncle Caleb."

"Damn it! You’re going to owe me." Caleb threw his magazine down and stood up. He looked down at Sam. "I'm not your uncle and you're spoiled."

The teen shrugged. "I can blame that on you and Dean."

"Next birthday you're just getting a card." Caleb glanced up at the clock. It was just after six. John stopped by about thirty minutes earlier when they were eating to tell them he was going out for a couple of hours. That gave them some time. "Shit." The hunter exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his rough day's growth of beard.

Sam was still watching him curiously when Caleb turned suddenly and pressed the nurse's call button. The boy's eyebrow arched and the other hunter grinned, despite himself. "You're not the only one who's charmed the lovely nurses around here."

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Nurse McCoy had apparently been quite charmed. She was very willing to find out who was on shift in the ICU. She also informed Caleb that Dr. Ames was sleeping in the intern's break room and Nurse Attila the Hun was out for the rest of the evening. She even went so far as to call ahead and let her associate Rachel know about the situation.

After Rachel heard the heartbreaking story of how Sammy had awoken from a terrible nightmare about his brother, inconsolable-even by his Uncle Caleb's reassurances that Dean was all right, she had no problem bending the rules-marginally. After all, a still-recovering Sam would know no rest until he saw his big brother with his own two eyes.

"Look a little more distressed, and a little less like the cat who swallowed the canary," Caleb snapped as he and Sam exited the elevator onto the ICU ward. He even went so far as to reach up and muss the kid's long hair, which succeeded at least in erasing the dopey smile from Sam's face.

Sam tried to hide the triumphant grin. He was finally going to see Dean after what seemed like much longer than a mere day and a half. Sooner or later the adults were going to have to start seeing beyond little ‘Sammy’. This was only the first of many victories.

Rachel grinned at Caleb from behind the nurse's station and nodded to the appropriate door. "I just checked on your nephew. Dr. White shouldn't make another round until around 8:00." She weaved her way around to them and glanced at Sam.

Sam didn't miss the way her blue eyes softened when she gazed at him. It was similar to the way women looked when they were cooing over newborn babies or picking up cute and helpless puppies and kittens. Dean told him his ability to cause that same reflex would someday work wonders for him. Sam wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but if it got him in to see his brother he was all for using it.

"We really appreciate you doing this for us, Rachel. Sammy wasn't going to be able to sleep without seeing his big brother."

Sam rolled his eyes at the sugary way Caleb was carrying on. Reaves smiled at Rachel and Nurse Hottie all but melted on the spot. Sam had seen his brother use that same technique countless times and it sent a pang of longing through his chest. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, thanks. I just really needed to see Dean."

"Ah, your brother's doing fine, sweetie. I'm sure he wouldn't want you upset." Alison brushed her hand against Sam's shoulder and gave him her most dazzling smile. "You Winchesters are a handsome bunch." She glanced back up at Caleb. "You look a lot like your uncle."

Sam gave a soft groan and moved towards the door of his brother’s room. He heard Caleb offer another heartfelt thank you and a quick invitation for coffee later. Sam was surprised the nurse didn't scrawl her number on a tongue depressor right then and there.

At the entrance to Dean's room, Sam hesitated. His hand hovered above the door knob. After all his urgency and demands to see his brother, he felt his resolve waver-something making him wary of entering.

Caleb’s hand came to rest on his shoulder and Sam felt some of the apprehension dissolve. The older hunger nudged him. “It’s still Dean, Sammy."

Sam glanced up at him and nodded. He bravely crossed the threshold into his brother's room.

The temperature drop was only slight, but goose bumps appeared on Sam's bare arms, causing him to shiver. He swallowed hard as his heart rate increased. He felt almost lightheaded as his eyes fell to the bed where his brother was laying.

Sam felt Caleb tense beside him. Mild apprehension rocketed towards terror. Disbelief crashed into outrage. And worry ballooned to panic. "Oh God," he muttered, wanting nothing more than to bolt out the door.

Maybe Caleb could do a mental purge, banishing this image from Sam's brain all together-sending it to wherever Sam had locked all memories of his time with the raw head. "Sam-maybe we should go."

Caleb’s voice seemed far away as he walked towards the mass of machinery and equipment surrounding Dean. The ominous hiss of the ventilator filled the room, along with the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Dean was either asleep or unconscious. Mac had explained the light sedation, but no one told him his brother was going to be strapped down during this 'twilight' state. The teen shakily reached out and ran his fingers over the padded restraints holding his brother's arms to his sides.

"They were probably afraid he'd try to pull out the breathing tube," Caleb said, the breathy quality to his voice brought Sam’s gaze to him. He read the same anger in Reaves’s eyes. The whole image of his larger than life brother strapped down and wired up was disturbing and horribly wrong.

A thin, blue, plastic blanket covered Dean. The massive bruising on his upper chest and shoulder stood out in contrast to the white sheet beneath him. His eyes were taped shut. There were I.V. lines in both his arms, and countless wires running beneath the blanket, a few attached to Dean's temple. A tube rushed air into his lungs at a much faster rate than normal, but it was the shivering wracking Dean's body that almost sent Sam over the edge. "Dean?" The kid choked.

Caleb glanced back at the door. “Sam…we should go.”

Again Sam looked at the older man. It was obvious seeing Dean was torturing Caleb. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted escape for himself or to protect Sam by leaving but it wasn’t going to happen that way.

The thirteen-year-old returned his gaze to his brother. Mackland had assured them the procedure was working. The intracranial pressure had leveled, and he was optimistic in the coming days it would decrease. Dean would be fine. But, God, this did not look fine.

Dean looked pale and vulnerable. Sam was afraid to touch him. He glanced at Caleb again and found no reassurance in the older hunter's face. He caught the rawness of emotion before the man could mask it. Sam felt worse, and did what came naturally. He sought out some kind of comfort from this brother.

Wrapping his fingers carefully around Dean's hand, he felt his eyes sting when the coldness of his brother's skin seeped into him, making his own bones ache. "Oh, Dean," he whispered, not remembering a time when he'd ever seen his brother like this. Sam had seen Dean bruised, bloodied, and concussed on more than one occasion. But never this helpless and hurt. Never this fragile and defenseless. This was not Dean. It could not be Captain Onehelluva Big Brother. There was no way.

"Sammy," Caleb said quietly, after the boy's first choked sob. "Let’s get out of here."

Instead of agreeing, Sam did the exact opposite. He curled over the bed, laying his own body against Dean's chest. Sam tried to offer some warmth from the obvious cold Dean was enduring, shelter from the pain. He felt himself being pulled into the dark abyss of his brother’s misery, but then Caleb’s hand on his back anchored him. "Take it easy, Runt."

"I'm so sorry." Sam whispered over again between his quiet sobs. Sam focused completely on his attrition, ignoring Caleb’s attempts to offer solace. This was all Sam’s fault. Dean was suffering because of his stupid need to protect Sam.

"Caleb? Samuel?" The stern voice broke Sam’s recriminations. A very unhappy Mackland Ames was glaring at them from the door of Dean’s room. “What in Christ’s name are you boys doing?”

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Caleb glanced guiltily up at his father. "Hey, Mac," he said casually, running a hand over his tied back hair. "How was your nap?"

Mackland's frown deepened as he stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him. Caleb noticed the fatigue and concern in the older man's eyes, not to mention a whole lot of anger. "I thought you understood John's wishes-my wishes."

Caleb shrugged. "They were sort of vague, Dad."

"They were not, Caleb!" Ames placed a large hand on Sam's shoulder and drew the boy away from his brother. "Samuel?"

The boy looked up, his breath hitched. He motioned towards his brother. "Mac?"

"What's all this about?" Mackland knelt, bringing him eye level with the teen. "I told you this morning that things were looking good for Dean."

Caleb looked at his father in disbelief. Who was he kidding? Nothing about Dean looked good. Did the man think that optimistic ‘doctor’ speak was going to work now that they had seen Dean for themselves? "Then why is he shaking?" Sam asked, and Caleb caught himself before he said 'Yeah?'

"Sam, Dean's not in pain. He's unconscious. We won't wake him up until we can start the warming process. I promise."

Caleb frowned. He brushed his hand against Dean's foot, opening himself for whatever he might find. It was there, and not faint like Mac was falsely leading Sam to believe.

"I don't believe you. I know my brother."

"Give me your hand." Caleb spoke to Sam. His father's angry look converted to one of warning, but he didn't try to stop his son.

Sam looked at him, fear raced beneath the dark gaze, but then he reached out. Caleb took his hand, touching Dean's foot again, closing his eyes. When Sam gasped, he held tighter until he found what he was searching for-Deuce.

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

Caleb opened his eyes again. "Told you it's still your brother." Sometimes his abilities weren’t all bad. Sam needed to find that connection with Dean again-to regain his footing. Dean needed it, too. So did Caleb.

"He's afraid," Sam whispered, holding Caleb's hand.

The psychic nodded. "But he knows you're here now. That's all that matters. You reached him, just like he reached you."

A slight relieved smile edged its way onto Sam's face, but the banging of the door behind them and the angry shout had him and Caleb wincing. His unconscious brother seemed to perceive the threat and before Reaves could get them out, they both felt Dean's fear and panic.

Dean's voice screamed at Caleb to protect Sam against the threat, not realizing it was his own father, raving and ranting.

"Dean?" Sam's voice shook.

Monitors picked up Dean's change in heart rate, beeping loudly, causing John Winchester to shout again. "What the hell is going on here? Caleb?"

Caleb felt Sam jerk away from him, the teen's eyes going to Dean's completely lax face. Reaves was relieved no distress registered on Dean's pale features, but Mac was still hovering over him, checking the monitors.

"Calm down, John," Mackland said, laying his hand on Dean's forehead. "You're upsetting everyone."

"Me?" John snapped, but lowered his voice. "How the hell am I the bad guy?"

Caleb reeled against Dean's internal struggle to protect his brother, even if his physical body was completely helpless. He tightened his grip on Dean's foot. He tried to convey matters were under control before relinquishing the link completely. He turned to John. "I can explain…" Caleb started only to be shoved roughly out of the way.

John grabbed Sam by the shirt and shook him. "I told you to stay out of this room, Sam!" He shook the boy again, causing Sam to gasp. "I've had enough of this insubordination shit, do you understand me? I'm sick of it."

“Let him go!” Caleb grabbed John’s arm, and his mentor instinctively drew back to take a swing at him.

"John!" Mac interrupted. More monitors picked up Dean’s distress. "Stop it. Now."

"I'm sorry." Sam cried. "I'm sorry." He pulled away from his father and ran past Caleb and John out the door.

John lowered his fist and pulled from Caleb’s grasp. He turned to go, but this time Mackland caught his arm. “I don’t think you’re in any state to talk with Sam at the moment.”

Caleb whole-heartedly agreed with his father on that matter. He had seen John livid before, and witnessed Dean take the worst of it. It wouldn't be safe for Sam or Caleb to have him go off half-cocked, since he’d really hate to shoot the man.

Hardly any sleep and more than a lifetime's share of worry did not bode well for John Winchester. He was afraid the man would do something he would regret. Something Caleb would regret. After all, this little disaster was his entire fault, too. He should have never brought Sam up to see his brother. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Like hell, Reaves!” John snarled. “Haven’t you done enough? I trusted you to watch him.”

Ames sighed when Winchester pulled away from him and moved towards Caleb. With a slight nod of the physician's head John was pinned snuggly to the opposite wall, his feet dangling several inches from the floor. "Let's not be ugly about this, Johnathan."

Caleb raised a brow, surprised his father resorted to using his telekinetic ability against one of his own. "Go," Mac told him as John growled threats from his helpless position.

Caleb sent another unsure glance to his father and then let his eyes fall to Dean once more. “I’m sorry,” he echoed Sam’s words and followed in the teen’s wake.

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"When I get off of here, Mackland, I'm so going to kick your ass."

“Sure you are.” Ames kept his hand on Dean in a gesture of reassurance.

"Then I'm going to kick Caleb's ass while you watch." John struggled against his invisible restraints. "And then I'm going to tell Jim-everything."

Mac's deep laughter filled the room, overshadowing the hum and hiss of the equipment. "Is that before or after you kick my son's ass? Somehow I believe Jim will have issue with that."

"Damn you." John growled. "Let me off of here."

"No." Mackland crossed his arms over his chest. "Not until you promise not to terrify small children and treat those around you like tender-footed privates. And let's not forget, upsetting your extremely sick child."

"He okay?" John asked wearily.

Mac couldn’t stand the wounded tone to his friend’s voice. Despite the fact of being an obstinate bastard, John was still a father underneath all his raging bravado. Ames tilted his head and John dropped safely to the floor, landing on his feet like a cat.

"He's still improving, and would have been even better if you hadn't scared him to death thinking something terrible was coming to get his little brother and Caleb."

John rolled his shoulders. He made his way to his son's bedside. "I didn't mean to scare Sam or Dean."

Mackland noticed he didn’t include Caleb’s name in the apology. He clenched his jaw to keep from pointing it out.

John laid his hand on his son's head. "I was trying to…"

"Protect them," Ames cut him off. "I know. But there comes a time when protection begins to cost more than its worth, my friend.” He waited for John to look at him. He wanted there to be no misunderstandings. “And I cannot allow you to threaten my child too."

John looked at him. "You knew my wishes. So did your son."

"John, you know Caleb cannot bear the thought of disappointing you or your family. To his detriment perhaps. . ."

"Yeah, well, he was wrong." John placed his hand on his son's arm.

Mackland snorted. "That was very mature of you, Johnathan. Sometimes you act Sam’s age instead of your own."

“And like using your super powers to fling me against the wall was such a mature move?” John shook his head. "You’re such the grown-up."

Mackland’s mustache twitched. “I could have suspended you upside down in mid-air…like a bat.”

"You've been wanting to do that for long time haven't you?" John asked.

Obviously, Mac had not hidden his smile well. As a doctor he had patience, and an oath to follow, but sometimes certain stubborn men of The Brotherhood tested him. Plus, as his son had said on occasion when he used his abilities on the fairer sex, what's the use in having powers if you couldn't use them every once in awhile for your own gain. “I am a man of great restraint, Johnathan. Great restraint.”

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Sam took the stairs, relishing in the extra energy it took to maneuver each step. He skipped some taking three at a time, pushing his body, trying to erase the images of his brother, forgetting the anger rolling off his father. He was breathing heavily, his heart lurching against his chest as he burst through the doors to the pediatrics floor, and then ran towards the sanctuary of his room. Nurse McCoy glanced up from her papers. Sam blocked her out, went into his room and closed the door. He attempted to regain his breath.

"Sam?"

The concerned voice had him straightening up, tensing at the unexpected company.

"Are you all right?" Mr. Taylor slowly stood up from the chair. He took a tentative step towards his student. "Sam, answer me. Are you okay?"

Sam rushed towards him and collapsed in his arms. "It's my fault," he whispered, his face buried against the older man's chest. "Everything's messed up because of me."

Taylor hesitated before wrapping his arms around the young teen's quivering frame. "Hey, take it easy there, champ. Everything's going to be okay."

Sam could not believe his eyes when he saw Mr. Taylor standing in the room, looking so much like his big brother, wearing jeans and a faded Red Sox t-shirt. This momentary stand-in offered some reprieve and shelter.

"Sam? Did something happen to Dean?"

Before Sam could answer the door to the room once again swung open. Taylor took a step back, pulling Sam along with him as an outraged Caleb Reaves entered the room.

"Get your fucking hands off of him." Caleb growled.

Taylor lifted his hands in the air away from the teenager. “Take it easy.”

"Caleb!" Sam turned, facing the threat, placing himself in front of his teacher. "It's all right. God! Get a grip."

Taylor visibly relaxed as Caleb stopped, let his gaze go to Sam's face before once more focusing his eerily gold-colored eyes on the teacher.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Sam's teacher. Taylor White. I stopped by to check in on Sam and Dean."

Caleb frowned, but relaxed his stance some. "Yeah, I think we spoke on the phone."

"Right. You sounded…smaller."

Caleb ignored him. "You alright, Sammy?"

"I'm fine. Next time try to ask questions first."

Caleb took him by the arm and edged him to the far side of the room. "Sorry, I sensed a stranger…and you were upset…and then he had his hands on you…"

Sam shook his head. He could understand. They were both on edge. "He was…I needed…"

Sam looked away, embarrassed at his moment of weakness and that he couldn’t find the words to explain how he was feeling.

Caleb reached out, and lifted Sam's chin. "Forgive me for being a little freaked, cause this may be the last time you see me breathing after I blatantly disregarded your father's orders." He lowered his voice. "A teacher could just as easily be some bad-assed demon. And if I do one more thing wrong, Deuce will never let me hear the end of it. Pastor Jim is going to kick me out of The Brotherhood and Mac is going to disinherit me."

Sam tilted his head. "I'm sorry. I get it. I'm okay. Really." He chewed at his bottom lip. "But, is Dad coming up here?"

Caleb shrugged. "He was held up. There's time to strategize. You want me to leave you alone for a bit?"

“Are you going to be okay?" Sam hadn't missed the look in Caleb's eyes in the ICU. First there was the concern for Dean and then the mixture of guilt and apprehension when his Dad had burst in on them.

Caleb nodded. "And we both know that Deuce is going to be okay. Right?"

It took Sam a moment, but finally he nodded. "Yeah. He's going to fine."

Reaves squeezed his shoulder and then let him go. "I'm going to step outside for a bit."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked as the other man started to turn away.

"Well, I have a coffee date." Caleb gave Sam his typical half-assed grin. "Taking another one for the team, and all."

Before Sam could reply the older hunter stepped towards Taylor. Sam didn't miss the way the teacher flinched when Reaves extended his hand. "I'm sorry about before, White. It's been a rough few days."

Taylor shook Caleb's hand and forced a smile. "Don't worry about it." He glanced at Sam and then back to Reaves. "How's Dean doing?"

Caleb ran a hand through his hair, letting it slide down to rub at the tense muscles in his neck. "He's hanging in there."

Taylor smiled. "That's good news. I'm sure our baseball coach will think so too."

"You going to be here for awhile?" Caleb asked the teacher, his gaze flicking once more to the youngest Winchester.

"I will." Taylor smiled at his student. "It'll take a while to catch Sam up on all the gossip…I mean homework he's missed."

"Good. I'll be back in a few, Sammy."

Sam nodded, watching the hunter leave the room before glancing sheepishly up at his teacher. The weight of his temporary breakdown and Caleb's bad ass routine hung heavily on his shoulders.

"So, that's your uncle?" Taylor asked.

Sam nodded.

"Got to be your dad's brother, definite family resemblance."

Sam just looked at him.

Taylor smiled. "You have one scary family."

Sam grinned. "You don't know the half of it, Mr. Taylor."

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