Paper Tiger

By Ridley C. James, September 2007

Beta: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me sadly. If it did I’d leave things along.

PS. No Deans were harmed in the making of this story.

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Chapter 3/11

"In waking a tiger, use a long stick." -Mao Tse-Tung

“Dean!”

The ten-year-old was struggling in Mike’s hands. As soon as Dean saw Caleb his eyes widened. He tried to move towards the hunter, but the giant shoved him towards Sid instead.

“Get your hands off him!” Caleb snarled, trying in vain to free himself. So much for remaining cool and aloof. “Don’t touch him.” None of John’s lectures had included this scenario. Enduring torture was one thing, but a threat to Dean or Sam was something entirely different.

Dean was gagged, but he was mumbling fiercely, fighting Sid.

“I’d calm down, kid.” Sid gave the boy a vicious shake. “You don’t want me to bring your baby brother out instead, do you?”

Caleb’s chest tightened at the mention of the youngest Winchester and Dean stilled. They had both Winchester boys. Caleb wondered how the men had managed that feat. He would wager money that John was still on a hunt, the boys alone-unprotected. The big question lingered: What did the kidnappers want?

“What do you want?” Griffin asked his voice much steadier than Caleb’s. “What could be so important you would threaten the lives of innocent children?”

“Our reasons aren’t important at this time.” Mathews motioned to Mikey, who stood in front of Caleb. “All you need to know is that if you cooperate no one will be hurt.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Caleb growled, glaring up at the muscle-bound goon in front of him. “Because I’m going to put a bullet in your pit bull, and then tear his buddy with the bad teeth limb from limb.”

“Those are brave words for someone tied to a chair.” Mathews retorted. “It really would be better for everyone if you put those thoughts out of your mind.”

Caleb found it ironic that their dark-haired captor should use those specific words; Caleb was going to use his mind to accomplish what his restrained body could not. He’d been practicing his mental skills. And although he was not telekinetic like his father, he could wreak havoc in another person’s mind with just a focused thought. “You’d be surprised what I can accomplish with the right motivation.”

“Son…” Griffin warned.

Unfortunately, Caleb had already blocked out everything around him. Everything but the black rage he was feeling towards the men who were threatening his family.

The young psychic would start with the idiot Sid who was manhandling Dean. Caleb took a deep breath and concentrated on the image of a huge sledge hammer, which he would use to unleash his fury on the metaphoric rocks in the bastard’s head. Maybe Reaves would get lucky and the man would die from an arterial bleed. He’d never tried that trick, but there was a first time for everything.

Instead of watching the blond henchman fall by the psychic's efforts, Caleb found his own head in the vice grip. Pain tore through his skull as if Sid had been wielding a real hammer and slammed it against Caleb’s temple. He cried out before he could stop himself, seeing a myriad of black dots swim before his closed eyes. “Fuck!” Caleb would have fallen forward if not for the ropes keeping his body upright. His head lolled to his chest.

Dean’s muffled cries had Caleb blinking, trying to catch his stolen breath. Caleb’s heart was racing at the unexpected assault and he was trying to figure it all out when he heard Sid’s nasty laugh.

“Poor kid doesn’t know his own strength.”

Caleb lifted his head, not understanding why his abilities had betrayed him. He glared at Sid. “What did you do?”

“He didn’t do anything.” Matthews knelt on the floor beside Reaves. He waited for the teen to look at him. “I suspect you caused that all on your own.”

“They know about us, Caleb.” Griffin’s voice was casual, but when he looked at Reaves his dark eyes held a touch of empathy. “Despite their obvious flaws, they’ve done their homework. I have my suspicions that whatever drug they used on you makes it quite difficult for a psychic to perform. They dosed me with the same thing when I was taken. It’s a unique form of sterilization, I have to admit.”

Sid snorted. “Like that drug they give rapists in prison. Drugs versus going under the knife for castration. Only Mr. Mathews's little cocktail replaces a good old fashioned lobotomy.” The blond leaned close to Dean’s ear. “Of course if your good buddy Caleb wants, I won’t mind busting his head open and cutting something out. You and your kid brother can watch.”

“Don’t talk to him!” Caleb ordered, but his voice lacked bravado. He met Dean’s scared gaze and tried to silently convey some kind of reassurance. But realization of their helplessness had set in like a slow thick fog and he was beginning to feel smothered. Reaves took another breath and it was like inhaling wet cement. “What do you want from us?”

“We want to know about Murphy.”

Caleb and Griffin exchanged looks, and Griffin spoke up. “Jim Murphy is a pastor at a church in Kentucky. I’ve known him for almost twenty years.”

“He’s friends with my father,” Caleb added.

“You don’t really think I’ve gone to the trouble to bring you all here to have such trivial facts parroted to me, do you? I want to know something I can’t find out from any good private detective.”

Caleb looked at Mathews. “He makes a killer apple pie, a mean glass of sweet tea, and has an annoying habit of starting every morning by listening to Bach and Beethoven.”

Mathews sighed and nodded to Mikey who slammed his fist into Caleb’s stomach and followed up with a back-handed blow to the hunter’s face.

“Next time it won’t be you who suffers,” Mathews promised.

Reaves coughed, gasping slightly as he wondered if Mikey hadn’t just smashed one of his kidneys.

“Caleb!”

Dean’s clear voice had him jerking upright, although he regretted it instantly. Sid had removed the boy’s gag and pulled him closer to the fireplace.

“It’s okay, Deuce. I got this covered.” He forced a smile and then looked up at Mathews. “Maybe you could be a little more specific.”

“I can do that.”

“We know Jim Murphy is the leader of this Brotherhood you two belong to. I believe you call him The Guardian. We merely want access to that which he guards.”

“He guards The Brotherhood itself,” Porter replied, indignantly. “He watches over the men and women who fight a daily war against the forces of evil. Something men of your obvious stature and narrow-mindedness could never understand. What you’re searching for is elusive and as unattainable as the Holy Grail.”

“I don’t think so.” Mathews rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “In any war there are spoils…untold fortunes and weapons of great power. We believe Jim Murphy holds both of these. We want to know where the loot is hidden and where the silver comes from.”

“Silver?” Griffin repeated. “What silver?”

Caleb swallowed thickly, careful to school his own reaction as he glanced to Porter. “I’m guessing he’s not referring to Pastor Jim’s hair.”

“I’m speaking of the metal used to make the rings you both wear-that all ordained members of The Brotherhood wear.”

Reaves hadn’t been expecting that. He wasn’t sure what kind of secret intel would be asked of him, but the location of where their rings came from had never even registered on the radar. If truth be told, Caleb had never even wondered about it. John Winchester had given him his ring with Jim’s blessing. That had been all that mattered to Reaves.

“You can’t be serious.” From Griffin’s scathing tone he also was blown out of the water. “You have gone through this nonsense to find the source of our jeweler?”

Mathews was not amused. He jutted his chin at his partner Sid, who dragged Dean closer to the hearth.

“I take it the kid here doesn’t really get into roasting marshmallows, seeing as how his pretty mommy was killed in that nasty house fire,” Sid said, a maniacal grin twisting his face.

Even without his abilities Caleb’s mind instantly picked up on the bastard’s intentions. “Stop!” Caleb yelled.

“Stop what?” Sid struggled with Dean. “I’m just going to give the kid a taste of what he’s been missing. Boy needs to face his fears.”

Reaves whipped his gaze to Mathews. “I don’t know where the damn silver comes from! I swear I don’t.”

“What about a place where weapons would be stored?”

“Weapons? You mean like guns and knives. Every damn hunter has their own arsenal.”

“I’m not talking about those kinds of weapons. I’m talking about ‘special’ artifacts-objects of power!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You want Aladdin’s Lamp? Whoever supplied your intel is fucked up. We’re not those kinds of hunters!”

“Don’t play me for a fool, Reaves!” Mathews encroached on Caleb’s personal space further. “I know a lot about what hunters do, what they encounter in their work. It’s not uncommon to find things that fairytales are made-up of.”

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Mathews growled. “You weren’t chosen at random. You spend time at Murphy’s farm, summers, holidays. Your father is one of Murphy’s advisors-The Scholar. You, yourself, are in training to be the successor to the position of Knight. Then there is the fact you and the Winchester brothers are like grandsons to the old man. Don’t deny that.”

“I’m not fucking denying anything.” Panic was stealthily encroaching, a cloud of helplessness. “We spend time there. Our fathers are part of The Triad. Pastor Jim’s good to us. But I swear to God I’ve never seen any silver except the rings on the hands of hunters. The only weapons I’ve been exposed to are anything you could get at a good militia rally or at an occult store.”

“The boy is telling the truth,” Griffin chimed in. “I’ve known Murphy longer, since before he became The Guardian. Never once has he mentioned anything about the source of the rings or any supernatural antiquities of mass destruction.”

“So he what…buys the rings at Wal-mart?” Mathews snapped, showing his first sign of anger. He gestured wildly with his hand. “You’re asking me to believe there is absolutely nothing special about the ore which men risk their lives and souls to acquire. Isn’t that like saying Excalibur was a regular sword or that the Fountain of Youth was just a puddle of water?” He motioned to Sid. “Show these men we aren’t fools.”

“Gladly.” Sid pulled Dean to the edge of the fire, grabbed the boy’s right hand and moved it towards the licking flames.

“No!” Dean cried, trying to pull his hand back. “Don’t.”

“Let him go!” Caleb shifted his gaze from Sid and Dean to Mathews. “He’s just a kid. Don’t do this!”

“Don’t hurt the child!” Griffin ordered and Sid hesitated.

The blond shot his dark-haired partner a look Reaves couldn’t quite decipher.

“Boss?”

Mathews leveled his dark gaze on Caleb. “Where is the silver?”

“I don’t know!” Caleb shouted.

“Where are the weapons stored?”

“Did you not hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know!”

Dean cried out as his hand moved close enough to the flames to feel the intense heat stinging his small palm.

“You want a ring, take mine!” Caleb struggled fiercely. “I’ll give it to you, you sonofabitch! Just don’t hurt Dean. Please.”

Sid inched the child’s hand closer and Dean’s terrified gaze sought out his one source of safety. “Caleb!”

“Deuce!” Reaves wrestled with his bindings, feeling the blood from his raw wrists slick his hands. He ignored the pain, working harder to use the lubrication to slide free from the ropes.

“Let the boy go.” Mathews told Sid.

Sid didn’t instantly comply. Not until Dean yelped again.

“Do it!”

Sid pushed the boy away with a sadistic laugh, and Dean stumbled before falling to his knees. He caught himself with his uninjured hand and glared up at Sid before scampering towards Reaves. Mikey intercepted him, scooping him up off his feet like he was stuffed with cotton.

“Take him back to his room.” Mathews told the bald henchman, sliding his hand through his dark wavy hair. “Then come back and help Sid with these two.” He shook his head at his two captives. “This doesn’t mean I believe you. We are not finished.”

“That doesn’t change what we know,” Griffin replied. “You wasted your time by bringing us here.”

“I hope for all your sakes that isn’t true.”

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Caleb and Griffin were led to a small room at the back of the cabin where Sid held them at gunpoint while Mike used a skeleton key to unlock the door.

“Don’t you fellows get too comfortable in your suite. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Griffin sneered at Sid. “That’s okay, Sid. We can turn down the beds ourselves. But perhaps some room service?”

“Yeah,” Caleb added giving Sid his best John Winchester ‘I eat men like you for lunch’ glare. “Like your head on a fucking platter.”

The blond henchman laughed, but it sounded forced. “You are funny, kid.”

“I wasn’t joking.” Caleb was going to hurt the bastard the first chance he got.

Mikes opened the door and Sid used the Glock to motion them in. “Lucky for me, I’ve got the upper hand.”

“Tides turn,” Caleb said.

The room was large in comparison to the rest of the cabin. There was a door off to the side leading to a small half-bath. Two curtained windows breached the knotted pine walls. There were several paintings of horses and a pair of deer heads for decoration.

Reaves made a cursory sweep like John had taught him, searching for possible exits, any advantage. He noted the two twin beds, the small closet, an overflowing bookshelf, and several toys. But no Dean and Sam.

He turned to face his captors. “Where are the boys?”

Sid gave him a bawdy smile. “They’ve been staying with Mikey. He has a soft spot for kids.”

Caleb stepped forward. “If you hurt them…”

“I’m sure these gentlemen realize if they injure the children they’ll be securing nothing but an early grave. It wouldn’t serve their pursuit in the least.”

Sid shifted his gaze to Griffin. “We’re not stupid.” He shrugged. “But we’ll do what’s necessary.”

“I want to see them.” Caleb ignored the gun pointed at his chest. “Now!”

Griffin held up a hand to keep the teen from moving closer to the henchmen. “The boys would be easier to handle if they were with someone they knew. I don’t think anyone got much rest last night.”

“Brats didn’t make it easy.” Sid scratched his head. “What do you think, Mikey?”

“Whatever you think, Sid,” Mike replied.

Sid jutted his chin towards the door. “I’d watch the little one if I were you. He kicks like a mule.”

Mike sighed as he realized he’d volunteered for the job of retrieving the boys. “As long as he doesn’t bite me again.”

Caleb noticed the teeth marks on the man’s hand and he grinned. He hoped Sammy had made it as painful as possible.

“You must know that by now people have noticed our disappearance,” Griffin offered.

Sid kept the gun pointed at Caleb’s chest, but turned his head towards the black man. “We were kind of planning on that.”

“They will begin looking for us and they will be the kind of people you will hope don’t find you.”

Sid snorted. “I have a great deal of experience staying under the radar, Dr. Porter.” He flashed his gold-toothed smile. “But your concern is touching.”

Griffin looked doubtful. “Have you ever been hunted? Have you been the sought after prey of a predator as instinctive and well-trained as the fiercest lion?”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I’ve got warrants from twenty five states, old man. No one’s ever come close to bringing me in.”

“The Brotherhood won’t be looking to bring you in. They’ll be out to put an end to you, Sid.” Porter gestured to one of the stuffed deer on the wall. “I’ve seen men field-dressed and mounted on their hallowed halls for far less offenses than those you have committed.”

Caleb realized Griffin’s bluff, but enjoyed it just the same. The Brotherhood honored human life. Protected it above all else-sometimes to its detriment. But it didn’t keep the young hunter from getting a kick out of the flash of fear and uncertainty reflected in Sid's blood-shot eyes.

“Caleb!”

Sam Winchester’s loud shout startled them all as the boy broke free from Mikey and barreled into the room. He ran around Sid and headed straight for Reaves who bent down to scoop him up.

“Sammy.”

The five-year-old practically scaled Reaves like a frightened cat would a tree, clinging to the teen. “Caleb,” he repeated, burying his face against Caleb’s neck.

“Hey, Runt.” Reaves hugged him back, taking comfort in the fact the boy seemed unhurt. “I thought you and your big brother knew not to hang out with riff raff.”

“We’re not hanging out,” Sam mumbled. “We’re kidnapped.”

Caleb tightened his hold, glanced over the five-year-old’s shoulder to check on Dean, who was still being held by Mikey, the movable mountain. “I know, Sammy.” He rubbed one hand up and down the boy’s back as he felt Sam tremble. “But it’s okay. I’m here now.”

Sam lifted his head from the psychic’s shoulder. “Are you kidnapped too?”

“'fraid so, Runt.” Reaves shifted the little boy to one arm and pinned Mikey with a frosty glare. “Let Dean go.”

The man did as Caleb requested and Dean jerked away with an indignant huff, straightening his Midland Heights Tigers tee.

Reaves didn’t need to read Dean to recognize the telling body language. It was taking all the restraint the kid had not to run to Caleb. Hands fisted, jaw clenched, Dean sauntered purposefully towards safety. Defiance radiated with every controlled step. He stubbornly refused to give into any childish need to be comforted no matter how justified it was.

Caleb heard the door slam and the ominous click of their exit being sealed. He knelt down with Sam still clinging to him.

“Deuce?” Caleb put his hand on the side of the boy’s neck and gave it a slight squeeze. “You okay?”

“His throat’s sore,” Sam replied, glancing up at his brother.

“That why you’re so quiet.” Caleb tilted the boy’s chin up until Dean was forced to look at him. He remembered the boys had been sick. “Hey? Talk to me.”

It only took their eyes meeting for the hard fought defenses to crack slightly. Dean’s lower lip trembled and one tear slid down his cheek. He shook his head and Caleb felt his own resolve falter, his eyes burned and his throat threatened to close up.

“Don’t cry, Dean,” Sam whispered. “Caleb’s here now.”

Caleb didn’t think his presence would do them one damn bit of good, but now wasn’t the time to point it out. He used his free arm to pull Dean to him and was slightly surprised when the kid attached himself with Sam's same fierceness.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” He breathed into Dean’s hair. Both boys were shaken. He feared asking how they had ended up in the current situation. “I’ve got you.”

“How’s his hand?”

Griffin’s question had Sam clinging tighter to Caleb, hiding his face from the man, and Dean jerking away from Reaves. “Dean?” Caleb asked quietly.

“It’s fine.” The boy’s voice was hoarse. “I’m okay.”

Porter knelt to the boy’s level. “I’m a doctor. Burns are nothing to mess around with, son.”

“What’s wrong with Dean’s hand?” Sam hesitantly looked up, his concern for his brother outweighing the wariness for Griffin.

“Nothing,” Dean answered. “I’m okay, Sammy.”

Caleb set Sam down and moved in front of the ten-year-old. “Let me see, Deuce.”

Reaves's relief at seeing the boys basically whole and in one piece had momentarily overshadowed what had taken place in the interrogation. It was sure to bring about some nightmares.

He took the ten-year-old hand turning it palm-side up in his. The burn wasn’t bad. It hadn’t blistered, but it was red and looked painful. Dean winced and his breath caught as Caleb gently ran his fingers over it. “I’m sorry.”

He’d seen Dean hurt before. It was the nature of boys. There were skinned knees, bee stings, and the one instance of a hunt gone amuck, but watching him be hurt intentionally with malice had twisted something deep inside Caleb. It would take a long time to erase the image from his memory or the bitter taste of fear and failure. His head told him there was nothing he could have done; his hands were tied-literally. But the heavy knot in his gut, the one that was threatening to make him sick, whispered a different story.

Dean looked at him, no hit of condemnation or blame. “It’s alright.” Dean was always the one trying to fix things-patch up the people he cared about. Even when he was the one who could use the fixing.

“We should put something on that.” Griffin edged closer, studying the wound over Reaves’s shoulder. “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom under the sink.” Porter turned to Sam. “Would you get it for me, Sam?”

The youngest Winchester looked to Caleb. “It’s okay, Sammy. Griffin is a good friend of Pastor Jim’s. He’s a hunter like your Dad and Mac.”

That seemed endorsement enough and the five-year-old took off towards the bathroom.

“How did you know that?” Caleb gave Porter a wary look. “About the kit?”

Griffin flashed the younger hunter a disarming smile. “Because I put it there. This cabin belongs to me.”

Reaves’s frown deepened and without thinking he attempted to brush through the other man’s thoughts. It was a defensive instinct, one he used often to check another’s intentions, categorize them as friend or foe. He rationalized to his father that it garnered important intel, and wasn’t merely an invasion of privacy.

The only thing he accomplished this time was a massive knifing sensation through his skull. He inhaled quickly through his nose, releasing Dean to grab at his head where pain erupted like mortar rounds. “Damn it!”

“Caleb?” Dean gripped his arm, his voice sounding scared.

Reaves forced his eyes open with a weary sigh. “I’m okay, kid.”

“You could have just asked.” Griffin’s grin was still in place as he shook his head in a fashion reminiscent of Jim Murphy. “Saved yourself a big headache.”

“It’s a habit.” Caleb rubbed at his throbbing temple, somewhat chagrined by his forgetting Griffin’s earlier warning about the drugs in his system.

Griffin arched a brow. “One I bet my old friend James Murphy does not approve of.”

Caleb frowned. “Jim believes there are better ways than snooping.”

Griffin’s smile widened. “Easy for him to say when that temptation isn’t just a thought away, now isn’t it?”

“I found it!” Sam announced triumphantly, interrupting any reply Reaves might have made. He hoisted the battered black doctor’s bag in the air. “It looks like Mac’s.”

“Bad habit between us doctors.” Porter took the bag from Sam with a wink. “Overkill on the first aid kits.” He glanced at Caleb again. “And about the cabin…surely you know a lot of hunters have places like this one. Perhaps we have become too lax on keeping them secret.”

Caleb nodded. It was true. Jim had a place. So did Elkins and a few of the others in locations all across the country. They were kept stocked with provisions and weapons, were out of the way, and open to members of The Brotherhood.

Reaves slid a hand down his face. “They’ve done their research.”

“They have.” Griffin agreed. “They knew enough to come after Winchester’s sons when he was out on a hunt. They knew where he was staying. They knew to take me on my way home from work when I would be alone and typically distracted. And they chose a time when you were not with one of the older, more experienced hunters. ”

Sam was earnestly watching the doctor dig through the medical supplies as he spoke. “Do you have Scooby Doo Band-Aids?”

“I’m afraid not.” Griffin smiled at him. “Just the boring ones.”

Sam didn’t hide his disappointment. “Mac has them. He has Mickey Mouse ones too.” It was obvious who Sam believed was the better physician.

“I must ask where he gets his medical supplies then.”

Reaves gave the man credit for his patience with Sam. The five-year-old was famous for questions and changing the subject when things being discussed didn’t involve him directly, or if it was something he didn’t want to hear. “Sammy, let Griffin work.”

Caleb reached out and tugged the little boy to him and out of the doctor’s way. Sam wrapped an arm over the psychic’s shoulder. Reaves felt Sam’s small fingers twist in his hair, twirling the strands in a nervous habit. Maybe a change of topic was good.

“Jim’s never mentioned you being a doctor.” Reaves observed casually. He cast a wary glance in Dean’s direction, unaccustomed to handing over the care of either boy to a mere stranger.

Griffin motioned for Dean to hold out his hand. “I’m not, at least not in the sense your father is. I went to medical school but gravitated towards genetic research.”

Caleb had to give Dean a nudge to get the boy to show Porter his hand. The black man studied the burn closer and then opened the ointment he’d chosen. “These days I’m more scientist than physician.”

“A mad scientist?” Sam asked, eliciting a chuckle from Porter and a sigh from his big brother. “Like in Back to the Future?”

“He has a big imagination,” Dean said, apologetically.

“And a bigger mouth,” Caleb added, tickling Sam who giggled.

“I’m afraid I have not figured out the time continuum, Sam.”

The much needed moment of levity was short-lived as Dean gasped and jerked his hand away from Griffin.

“Sorry.” Porter received twin glares from Caleb and Sam as Dean cradled his arm to his chest. “I’m rather out of practice.” He gently took the boy’s hand in his once more.

“It’s not bad is it?” Caleb asked.

“Superficial.” Griffin assessed. “But it smarts just the same.” He patted the ten-year-old on the shoulder. “Right, Dean?”

“Yeah,” the boy croaked.

Porter frowned. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the cold too. “

“We both had colds, but mine went away.” Sam explained. “Dean gave me all the medicine.”

“Sam.” Dean growled, letting his little brother know he was sharing too much information.

The five-year-old hung his head and leaned against Caleb. “Well, he did.”

Reaves ruffled the boy’s dark hair with a sigh. “Sounds just like your big brother.”

“I don’t have anything here for a cold, but I can help with the discomfort.” Griffin turned to Caleb. “If it’s alright with you.”

“If what’s alright with me?”

Griffin tapped his head. “I have a few special tricks of my own.”

Murphy had mentioned that Griffin was psychic during one of his typical ‘abilities do not make you a freak, my boy’ speeches. “But the drugs…”

“Are pretty much out of my system. I’ve been here longer than you. Besides, making my patient feel better is worth a little headache.”

Reaves pursed his lips, unsure. “What will you do?” He was not aware of what type of abilities Griffin held; only that he was quite capable.

“Nothing that will harm him. You can trust me.”

Caleb moved his gaze to Dean. “You okay with it, Deuce?”

“Will it hurt?”

“You won’t feel a thing.” Griffin let his hand rest on Dean’s head. “In fact, that’s the whole point.”

It wasn’t entirely true. Dean felt a slight flutter, similar to what he experienced when Caleb would communicate with him telepathically. Then the throbbing from the burn on his hand disappeared as well as the scratchy discomfort in his throat. Even his headache dulled to a tolerable level and he couldn’t stop the sigh of relief.

“Better?” Griffin moved his hand.

“Better than a Scooby Doo Band-Aid.” Dean still sounded raspy, but at least now speaking didn’t feel like swallowing shards of glass. “Nothing hurts now.”

“Thanks.” Caleb said. “You’ll have to teach me that little trick.”

“Only if you can share some of yours. I’ve heard you are extremely talented.”

Caleb shrugged off the compliment. Death visions compared to an ability to end someone’s suffering? It was a no brainer. “Seeing as how I’m on the bench for now, do you have anything up your sleeve that might help us out of here?”

Griffin sighed. “Not really. I can read people, project to some degree-like with the dulling of the pain sensors, but I need physical contact with a person to perform that. . Not very helpful in battle I’m afraid.”

“But if you can touch another’s mind…”

Porter shook his head. “It takes a great deal of power to be able to cause changes, to manipulate enough to do damage…for example cutting off someone’s oxygen supply. I have the knowledge, but not the energy source. It’s like the basketball player who knows all the plays, excels at strategy, but doesn’t have the raw talent to be a star of the game.”

“I guess.” Caleb still didn’t understand his own gift, and his father and Missouri were the only other psychics he’d worked with. They seemed to talk more about responsibility than feasibility. Although each told him he would one day ‘outshine’ them both.

“You told those men the password,” Dean spoke up, his green gaze locked on Porter. “You read Sammy.”

Griffin nodded. “I did.”

Caleb frowned. “What are you talking about, Deuce?”

“The jerk that showed up at the house…the blond guy. He gave Sam the password.”

“I said I was sorry,” Sam cried before his brother could answer. He turned to Caleb to plead his defense. “I wouldn’t have opened the door if he didn’t say Thundercats.”

“It’s not your fault, Sam,” Griffin confessed. “I was outside in the car.” He glanced to Reaves. “They threatened to take them by force if I didn’t cooperate. I assumed it would be better to follow the path of least resistance.”

Caleb raked a hand through his dark hair. Damn. Not many people knew about the ‘password’ policy. These men infiltrated the inner core of The Brotherhood. “Someone’s on the inside.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Griffin agreed.

Sam turned an accusing gaze to Griffin. “Pastor Jim says you’re not supposed to read people without permission. Psychics have rules.”

“That sounds just like Jim.” Porter attempted a look of sincere contriteness. “I apologize, Sam. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

The little boy nodded. “This time.”

“But what do they want?” Dean asked.

Reaves exchanged a look with Porter. “They say they want to know where the silver that makes the rings for The Brotherhood is located.”

Caleb stood and paced the room. “But I’m not sure I buy that.”

“You think there’s more to it?” Griffin watched the teen prowl the perimeter.

Reaves rubbed his aching jaw. “It doesn’t make sense. What the hell are they going to do with it? I doubt the market is that high for silver and who’s going to buy into the magical bit? And weapons…they’ve obviously watched Indiana Jones one too many times.”

“Perhaps the silver has secrets of its own.”

Caleb stopped at one of the windows and pulled the curtain back revealing bars. He cut his eyes to Porter. “Paranoid much?”

“Bears.” Porter said cryptically. “Really big ass bears.”

“Bears?” Dean swallowed thickly, keeping a close eye on Sam as the younger boy made his way to the bookshelf and the toys residing there. “You have bears here?”

“Black bears are abundant in these mountains. They’ll break in and steal food. They can trash a place as well as take a few years off a man’s life if he happens to wake up to find one rifling through his cabinets.”

“Bears like honey.” Sam interjected, pulling several books from the shelves. “And blackberries. But if they’re really hungry they’ll eat people.”

“Thanks so much, Wild Kingdom.” Dean snapped. “And leave those things alone.”

“It’s okay. He can play with anything he finds. I don’t think Ethan or Elijah would mind.”

“Do you have kids?” Sam perked up at the idea of other children.

“I have Godsons. But they are more Caleb’s age than yours, Sam.”

Sam looked pensive. “Caleb’s still a kid.”

Reaves glanced up from his inspection of the closet. “I am not.”

Sam put a hand on his hip. “Mac makes you go to school and Daddy and Bobby tell you what to do.” To Sam those were definite things that put you in the ‘kid’ category.

Sadly, neither point could be contested. Caleb settled for the obvious to regain some ground. “Yeah. Well school’s out and your daddy isn’t here.”

The youngest Winchester shrugged in deference and returned to looting through the books.

“I wish Dad were here.” Dean moved to one of the twin beds and sat down.

Caleb moved to the door, but gave up on it quickly. It was locked from the outside and made of heavy, solid oak. He wished John were here too.

“Chances of escape are unlikely.” Griffin gestured to the window and beyond. “Even if we did manage to get out of the cabin, there are miles and miles of woods separating us from civilization or the nearest ranger’s station.”

Reaves moved to the bed and joined Dean. “What state are we in?”

“North Carolina.”

“Where did they take you from?”

“Atlanta.” Griffin replied. “Two days ago.”

“Would any hunters be looking for you by now?”

“Possibly. I was doing some research for a few jobs.”

“They grabbed me late last night. Fisher and I were due back today.” He looked at Dean. “When was Johnny coming back?”

“Last night.”

Caleb could read the trepidation in Dean’s green eyes. He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “That’s good news, kiddo. He’ll be good and pissed by now. Nothing scarier or deadlier than a pissed-off Devil Dog.”

“Devil Dog?” Griffin raised a brow at the term.

Reaves shrugged. “Marine slang. Johnny’s a former Jar Head.”

Porter nodded his understanding. “Well, I imagine they know they are working with a small time frame. Whatever they are planning will have to be put into motion soon.” Griffin stood, gathering the medical supplies.

“You haven’t heard them say anything about what that actual plan might be? Besides the whole torture us and ask questions.”

“No. But I imagine we will know soon enough.” Porter gestured to the other bed. “We should rest while we can. I’m going to wash up.”

“Yeah.” Caleb watched the doctor disappear into the small bathroom and then looked at Dean. The kid was wiped. He reached out and slid his hand over the boy’s hair. “How about you guys? You pick up any info, kiddo?”

Dean yawned, shook his head. “They didn’t tell us anything.”

“They told Dean they would break my arm if he wasn't good,” Sam piped up. “They’re not very nice.”

Caleb patted the bed beside him and the five-year-old abandoned the bookshelf to scamper up on the mattress. “No one’s going to do anything to you, Sammy.”

“That’s what I told him.” Dean yawned again.

Caleb scooted back on the bed, resting against the headboard. “You tired, Deuce?”

The kid nodded, shifting so he too could recline on the pillows beside Reaves. “I didn’t sleep last night…” He glanced to his brother who crawled over Caleb so he could squirm between them. He’d found a stuffed dinosaur that had seen better days and clutched it to his chest. The youngest Winchester was halfway to dreamland. “I had to keep an eye on Sammy.”

“I know.” Caleb rested his arm over Dean’s shoulders. “Get some sleep. I’ve got this watch.”

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