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.

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Chapter 7/11

“Where there are two people, there is untruth.”-Søren Kierkegaard

The sound of the key unlocking the door brought Caleb instantly alert. He wasn’t asleep, his mind too full of tortuous thoughts to be lulled into a restful state. Reaves eased himself up, mindful of Sam who had finally given into exhaustion.

The sleeping five-year-old stirred slightly but didn’t wake as the psychic maneuvered his legs over the side of the bed. Caleb blinked as the overhead light was turned on, flooding the room with harsh luminescent. “Porter, come with us.” Sid entered the room.

“Where’s Dean?” Caleb demanded as he watched Griffin ease his tall, lanky frame from the other twin bed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sid taunted.

Reaves made to stand up, but Porter held a hand out. “Don’t do anything stupid, son.”

“Listen to the good doctor, boy.” Sid stepped further into the room, Mikey practically glued to his side. “It’d be a shame to wake the brat with the sound of gunfire.”

Caleb clenched his teeth. “You’ve been talking to him for hours. Just bring him back in here with us.”

“Sorry. No can do.” Sid waved the gun at Porter. “Mathews wants to ask the doc some more questions and we might need some incentive.”

Porter and Reaves exchanged glances. “I’ll answer your questions the same, with or without the boy.”

Sid snorted. “Bad news for the kid…but still fun to watch.”

Griffin shot Caleb an apologetic helpless look before allowing Mikey to guide him out of the room. Sid winked at Reaves. “I’ll tell you how it goes, kid. Give you all the blow by blow details.”

“You’re not going to find this so damn amusing when our friends get here.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Sid continued to grin as he backed out of the door and closed it behind him.

Reaves swore as he heard the lock. “Sonofabitch.”

He glanced to Sam, amazed the kid was still sleeping, but thankful for the break. Caleb’s emotions were hard enough to handle, let alone mixing in the fears of a tired and confused five-year-old. Sam wanted his brother, and that was something Caleb couldn’t give him, despite wanting nothing more than the same thing for himself. Without effort his thoughts focused on Dean, and the first jolt of connection was so surprising Reaves flinched, bringing a hand to his forehead.

It was like a switch had been thrown. He blinked, afraid he might have imagined the familiar sensation, but the link held true.

He purposefully reached out this time, carefully brushing against Dean’s consciousness. “Deuce?” Caleb whispered thankful for the knowledge Dean was still with them, but pained by the great sense of misery surrounding the kid.

The psychic breathed deeply, testing the limits of his abilities. The drugs were still dulling his range and clouding his focusing capability, but it was no where near as stifling as it had been before. Caleb could now sense Sam and Dean without effort, but reaching out to touch the others was more difficult.

They seemed to be gathered in one area of the cabin, but it was as if they were in some sort of anti-psychic bubble. Dean was clearly not with them. He was further away. The only explanation Caleb had was that he had a strong connection to the boys. His abilities were attuned to them, so perhaps the drug wouldn’t work as easily. Still something nagged at the back of his mind.

“Caleb?”

Sam’s sleepy voice halted his theorizing and Reaves moved back to the bed. “Hey, you should be asleep.”

“I woke up and you were gone.” Sam rubbed tiredly at his eyes and yawned. “I thought they took you too.”

“No.” Caleb reclaimed his spot on the small bunk and Sam curled close to him once more. “I’m still here, Runt.”

“When will Dean be back?”

Reaves closed his eyes. “I wish I knew, Sammy. I wish I knew.”

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“You knew this could happen, Jarrett.”

“No. You convinced me this would not happen.” Mathews was frustrated at his own gullibility. “You said you were sure that Ames’s kid would have the information we needed.”

Griffin took the cup of coffee his friend offered him and frowned. “Where’s the boy?”

“I put him in the cellar to stew for a while.” Jarrett looked at Porter, trying to read the man’s infuriatingly calm expression. Griffin had a way of looking like he knew something everybody else wasn’t privy to. Usually he did, his mind full of secrets like Pandora’s Box. “He didn’t exactly adhere to the plan. He may have given away clues to our location.”

Porter took a sip from the mug. “That’s nothing that we didn’t expect.”

Mathews swore. “I didn’t expect it.”

Griffin continued to drink his coffee. “I told you this might come to a face to face confrontation.”

“We’re remembering things very differently.” Perhaps they would carve that sentiment on Jarrett’s tombstone. His father often said he was born with rose-colored glasses. “You said we would get the location of the silver and then force Jim to step down as The Guardian. You never once mentioned a battle.” Mathews rubbed his neck. “Which is exactly what it will be if the Triad finds us here.” Maybe slaughter was a better word.

“There is never a full proof plan.”

“Griffin, you act as if you hope they do show up here.”

“Jarrett, I know you wanted this all to go off without a hitch, and it still may, but...”

“Has Reaves told you anything?”

When Griffin hesitated, Mathews let out a deep sigh. “He doesn’t know a damn thing, does he?”

“I’m not completely convinced of that.”

“I saw his face, Griffin. He was terrified for the Winchester boy. He would have told me whatever I wanted to know when Sid threatened the child.” Mathews turned his eyes to Sid, who was sitting at the kitchen table playing cards with Mikey. “Which by the way was not supposed to ever go so far.” The thug was instructed not to hurt either boy. Sacrificial lambs were supposed to be docile. Sid was more like a pet snake.

Sid looked up from his hand and shrugged. “I barely touched him.”

Porter pointed at the man. “I explained to you that the children were not to be harmed. If you expect full payment, I suggest you fully comply with my wishes.”

“You wanted Reaves to talk; I was just trying to fulfill the contract.” Sid pulled his knife from the wood table, flicked it back and forth. “I could still work on that for you, if not with the wee ones, then with Reaves.”

“No.” Jarrett shook his head when Griffin seemed to consider the idea. “We know that’s not an option.”

Mathews pulled Porter out of the small dining area and into the living room, giving them more privacy. “Despite where he comes from, Ames’s boy is loyal.” Mathews reached a hand out and wrapped his finger around Griffin’s wrist when the other man dismissed his words with a patronizing roll of his eyes. “And he is still a boy-the same age as Ethan and Elijah. I’m not going to be a part in his death, Griffin. We‘re here to see that Jim Murphy steps down. Nothing more.” Mathews couldn’t help but think about his own sons when he looked at Caleb Reaves.

“No one is dying here, Jarrett. Stop being so damn dramatic. Now is not the time to lose focus.”

“Those boys don’t know anything, Griffin. However, their fathers may very well know something…like our location. Then the whole point of our mission is becoming a complete failure. This is a prime moment for concern.” Did Griffin not realize the bleakness of their situation?

“This is going to work out, Jarrett, one way or the other.”

“What exactly is it that you want to work out, Griffin? You never have told me why it was important we play this absurd game of cat and mouse. Why ask about the Century Journals or the legendary repository of weapons? The silver I can understand, because if Murphy refuses to step down, taking control of the source would be our only likely way to force him to do so…” Jarrett paled slightly. Something akin to one of those cartoon anvils fell from the sky, striking him atop the head. “Outside of killing him, which would not only be murder, but high treason. I signed on for an impeachment, not an assassination.”

Porter snorted. “Never again ask me where Elijah gets his talent for self-righteous platitudes, Jarrett. He is his father’s son.”

“Leave my boys out of this.”

“We’re doing this for your boys,” Griffin hissed. “Once I’m the new Guardian and you The Scholar, their rightful places as the next Triad will be sealed, ensuring the prosperous future of The Brotherhood-a traditional, pure Brotherhood.”

“I want to believe the welfare of The Brotherhood is your only concern, Griffin.” But it was becoming harder for Jarrett to see the man as a patriot. Griffin had been like a father to Jarrett, mentoring him when his own father was killed in a hunt. He was good to Mathews's sons, helping groom Ethan for position of Knight, guiding Elijah's psychic abilities. But this…

“It is.” Porter put a hand on Jarrett’s shoulder and squeezed. “Stop thinking so much.”

Mathews pulled away. “Then what is this talk of the Century Journals? Why did you insist that I ask about them? We are not mercenaries. If those objects are as powerful as we think then they are better left lost."

Griffin glanced over his shoulder. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “But if the legends are true then the stockpile of weapons and antiquities could be worth a fortune.”

Jarrett frowned, glanced towards the kitchen. Sid and Mike were absorbed in their game, apparently unconcerned with his and Griffin’s conversation. But their kind was usually attuned to their surroundings. Porter needed to take caution. Mathews lowered his own voice. “Monetary gain is the lowest of lows and a direct violation of The Brotherhood code, Griffin."

“I’m not suggesting we sell them to the highest bidder of which I‘m sure there would be many, but whomever holds them could hold enough power to sway things to their perspective.”

“You’re serious?” Mathews hissed, taking Griffin’s arm and pulling him further into the living room.

“Don’t worry yourself, Jarrett.” Griffin extracted himself from his friend’s grip. “They are probably a myth. We are arguing a moot point. I mostly wanted them mentioned to throw James off.”

“I’m not sure it worked. Like everything else, that call did not go as planned.”

“What happened exactly?”

“I told you the boy is what happened.” Jarrett knew Dean had not said anything specific, but the kid had improvised. Mathews was sure of it. “He’s smart. I know he slipped information to Murphy.”

Griffin’s typical smug look returned, twisting that knot of suspicion further in Jarrett’s gut. Mathews always likened it to the look a chess player had after securing their enemy’s queen. “This may speed things along.”

Jarrett ran a hand through his hair. Damn his idealism. “I gave them the thirty-six hour deadline, but I doubt it will take them that long to find us.”

“It will still take them time to mobilize. Have Louis and one of the other men set up a perimeter watch further down the mountain on both the traversed trails and the rugged terrain. Winchester was in Special Forces. He’s quite brilliant when it comes to tactical maneuvers.”

Mathews thought of Louis and the other hunters he had encouraged to support Porter’s plan to right the wrongs of The Brotherhood. Were they to be expendable like the paid outsiders Sid and Mike? “I know how talented Winchester is. Ethan was quite enamored with the man after training with him. I‘ve heard many stories about the great Knight despite his lack of judgment.” Ethan had been thrilled at the chance to work with John Winchester and brushed off the fact he was forced to be second-string when John chose another as successor. Mathews had not been so forgiving. Porter’s detailed discussion of Caleb Reaves’s unworthiness had not helped.

Griffin gave his friend a reassuring smile and Jarrett was sure the man was reading him, leaching his thoughts. It was Porter’s way-a flaw Jarrett had brushed aside in his own awe of the man. “They’ll understand why we’re doing this when they’re older.”

“I hope you’re right.” Mathews glanced over to the small alcove off to their left. It led to the cellar door. “Should I get the boy? He sounded sick.” The father in Jarrett had screamed that Dean should be tucked in bed with a bowl of hot soup and some strong antibiotics. But Dean was not his son and they were in the middle of a battle where paternal feelings must be pushed aside.

Griffin shook his head. “No, I think we should rattle Caleb’s cage just a tad more.”

Jarrett glared at him. “I thought we were clear on the fact he doesn’t know anything.”

“Desperation can jar a person’s memory. Perhaps he knows something he doesn’t know he knows.” Porter didn’t give his friend time to reply as he turned his back on him and started for the kitchen. “Sid, I want you to get the other boy.”

“Griffin,” Mathews tried. “This is nonsense. We should be focusing on dealing with The Triad. If your little ruse was going to work, Reaves would have talked already.”

“I told you what to do, Jarrett. Get Louis on it. Contact our man on the inside. This is not as big an issue as you are making it out to be.”

Jarrett growled in frustration. Griffin turned from him once more and motioned to Mike. “Give us a few minutes and then bring him in here.”

“Reaves won’t take that well.”

“That’s what I’m counting on. Take the boy by force if you must. But don’t hurt him.”

“What about Reaves?”

“Do what you have to without killing him.”

“You’re enjoying this.” Jarrett’s eyes narrowed and he felt slightly ill. Griffin had always been a little ruthless. He suspected it was one of the things Julian Smith sensed about him, finding Jim Murphy’s altruistic nature preferable. It also probably explained why Griffin’s friend James had not chosen him as The Scholar when given the chance. “Are you trying to punish Caleb for Ethan’s slight or his father for your own?”

Griffin didn’t try to deny his friend’s accusation. “Actually, it’s making me feel rather better about both.”

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Sam jerked in Caleb’s arms as the door to their room was once again opened. Sid and Mike entered. Reaves’s chest tightened as his hopes were dashed. Dean wasn’t with them.

Sid gestured with his gun. “We’re taking the other boy with us.”

Caleb slowly rose from the bed, keeping Sam behind him. “The hell you are.”

“Caleb?” Sam wrapped his fingers in the back of Reaves’s shirt.

Sid snickered. “Come out, come out. Don’t you want to go see your big brother, brat?”

“He’s not going anywhere.” Caleb had been separated from Dean. He could not lose Sam too. He’d promised.

The gun was shoved in his face again. Caleb was growing very weary of being the helpless captive. “I hope you make this hard. The boss gave me permission to teach you a lesson. Or maybe I’ll just take it out on Dean-O while you watch.”

“Don’t you hurt my brother!” Sam snarled, darting out from behind Caleb to deliver a hard kick to Sid’s shin.

“Sam. No!”

“Sonofa…” Sid yelped in pain as the little boy followed up with a fist to the crotch. The blond thug brought his gun back intent on striking Sam with it.

Caleb reacted without conscious thought and Sid stopped mid-strike, staggered slightly before grasping his head in pain.

Reaves grabbed Sam, pulling him back into his meager shelter as the big man toppled to his knees, his face twisted in agony. Caleb was fueled by the surge of adrenaline and anger, making his psychic attack even more powerful and particularly vicious.

“Sid?” Mike stepped forward, his slow wit making a valiant effort to keep up with the action. He lowered his gun. “What…”

Reaves didn’t take time to rejoice in their good fortune of his abilities being active once again. He shifted his focus to Mikey taking advantage of the man’s perplexed state. He impeded Mikey’s oxygen supply with a deliberate thought. Mackland was right about all those practice sessions coming in handy. The giant coughed and sputtered before he also sank to his knees near his partner who was flopping around like the blue gill Sam and Dean would fish from Jim’s pond.

“Caleb?” Sam asked, looking up at him in surprise. “You’re better!”

“You bet I am, Runt.” Reaves bent down and retrieved Sid’s gun, purposefully stepping on the blond’s splayed hand, silently rejoicing when he heard bone grind against bone. He was so tempted to deliver more punishment for the way the bastard had hurt Dean, offered to hurt Sam, but their escape was more important than revenge. Finding Dean and getting both boys to safety was his mission.

Caleb turned to Sam and scooped him up. “Let’s go get your big brother and get the hell out of here.” He walked through the door, locking it behind them. They would need the time for a head start.

Sam held tightly to his neck. “And Doctor Griffin. We have to save him too.”

“He’s one of us.” Caleb nodded. “We don’t leave men behind, Sammy.”

Caleb stealthily entered the open area of the cabin, voices floated in from the room. He telepathically searched for Dean, sensing the boy’s presence in another area off to their right, perhaps a basement. Sitting Sam down, he knelt beside the child. “Sammy, listen to me.”

The little boy’s eyes stayed glued on Reaves’s face.

“I’m going into the kitchen to help Griffin. I want you to go behind the couch and hide.” Reaves pointed to the large leather sofa by the door.

Sam shook his head. “I want to stay with you.”

“I’ll be right back. We’ll get Dean and the three of us will be home in time for Jim’s eggnog and reading of The Night Before Christmas.”

Sam chewed at his bottom lip, scuffed his shoe. “Okay.”

“Good soldier.” Caleb ruffled his hair and gave him a quick grin. “Now wait for my signal.”

Caleb stood and peered around the wall. It was clear and he jutted his chin for Sam to move. Once the five-year-old disappeared around the corner Caleb advanced. He reached out psychically as he went, frowning when he once again encountered the bubble-like void. It was nothing compared to the confusion of finding Griffin taking coffee with their captor Mathews.

“Griffin?” Caleb stepped out of the shadows, leveled the gun on the two men. “What’s going on?”

"I'm having a cup of coffee with Jarrett." Griffin tilted his neck to the side. "The gun won't be necessary."

Caleb hesitated, but held the weapon firm. “Griffin…”

Reaves was unable to read the situation, the mental block was in place once more. He grimaced and couldn’t help but to gasp at the sudden intense pain which flared in his head. “Wha…Why are you working with them?”

Jarrett took advantage of Caleb’s state. He stood and divested the teen of the gun which he slid across the table to Griffin. Caleb wasn’t able to resist. He felt frozen in place, paralyzed physically and psychically. “I’m not working with them,” Porter replied coolly. “They work for me.”

Realization dawned on Caleb like a glowing mushroom plume in a distant dessert. He released a ragged breath as his mind was suddenly freed from the painful siege. “It was you blocking me. There were never any drugs.”

Porter grinned. “I might have been rather modest about my abilities. I left out the fact that I helped train Missouri Mosley as well as working with your father when he first entered The Brotherhood. Although I have been working on several ways to block psychic abilities, I’m afraid the chemical substance to do so is still only in the developmental phase.” The smile faded. “But I don’t need such assistance to take care of something like you.”

“But why the charade?” Reaves took a step back, staggered by Griffin's machinations. Caleb swallowed. He was sickened and reeling.

Griffin stood up and circled Caleb as if giving a lecture to a student. “People in a crisis tend to bond. Imagine the victims of a crashing plane, the doomed voyagers of the Titanic. I needed you to trust me.”

Caleb rubbed a hand down his mouth. He had to gain some control. Sam was in the other room hiding, and Dean was in the basement. The boys needed him. “You’re Jim’s friend. All that talk of The Triad...”

Griffin shook his head in a mock sadness. “My friend James lost his way a long time ago.”

“You’re going against The Brotherhood.” Caleb's voice rose in anger. He believed in The Brotherhood, and thought they were on the same side-against evil.

Griffin frowned, and grabbed Caleb's wrist. “Don’t you talk to me about The Brotherhood. You're tainted. You wearing our ring is an abomination.”

Reaves shook off the hard grip. “Said the kidnapper and child torturer.”

"The children were never going to be hurt." Jarrett interjected.

Caleb snorted. He shouldn’t have been surprised how the situation became twisted. "Dean's sick, and your goon burned his hand. God. Is that bastard a hunter too?" When neither man replied, the teen decided to press matters. "I want to see Dean. Now."

Griffin waggled his finger at Caleb and smiled at the other psychic's posturing. "You are in no position to give orders, regardless of your future position in The Brotherhood."

Caleb didn't care about being the next Knight. He was a hunter to save people and himself. He refused to lose Dean. He twisted the silver band, willing to humble himself. "Here take the ring, I don't care, but I need to see Dean."

"Where's the other boy?" Jarrett looked around the room as if suddenly realizing their folly.

Griffin crossed his arms, refraining from taking Caleb’s ring. "I can either waste precious time looking for him and then he can join his brother, or you tell me and Dean joins you here in the warm comfort of the fire."

Caleb felt momentarily defeated, but having everyone in the same room could be a tactical advantage. And if Griffin was as powerful as Reaves imagined, he’d find Sam on his own. "He's hiding behind the couch."

"Call out to him, and have him come in here." Griffin ordered, and returned to the chair, relaxed and sipping his coffee.

"I'll go get Dean." Mathews excused himself.

"Sam." Caleb cleared his throat, trying to add some warmth instead of fear into his voice. "Sammy, I need you come over here."

Sam bounded forward, and ran to Caleb's legs. "Are we leaving now? Where's Dean."

"We can't leave just yet, Sam." Griffin answered as he put the cup down. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "The mountain is a dangerous place-lot of unknown things lurking in dark places."

The youngest Winchester was silent for a moment, and obviously puzzled by the inaction. "I wanta go home." Sam hiccupped a sob. "I want Dean."

Caleb crouched down so he was level with Sam to offer some consolation. “It won’t be long, Sammy.”

"There's your brother now." Griffin smiled as he heard the shuffling feet.

Dean was wavering; Jarrett had a guiding hand on his shoulder. The ten year old was pale, his focus on his feet. He took slow, halting steps and didn't acknowledge the presence of Caleb or his brother.

Griffin put his hand up, halting Caleb from going to Dean. Head bowed, Dean walked to Caleb and then collapsed in a heap.

"Dean?" Sam scurried near his brother.

Caleb reached out and caught the boy before he could hit the floor “Deuce?” Dean’s skin was like ice. Reaves glared at Mathews. “He’s freezing.”

Jarrett clenched his jaw but didn’t reply. Sam moved around Mathews to retrieve an old afghan from the couch. He quickly dragged it to Reaves. “Here, Caleb.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Caleb wrapped the blanket around the lethargic ten-year-old, concerned when Dean didn’t protest the swaddling. "You with us, Kiddo? How you doing?"

Dean lifted his head, his green eyes bright and glassy. He leaned into Caleb, seeking comfort as shivers shook his slight frame. "I don't feel too good."

Reaves looked to Porter. “Was this part of your brilliant plan?”

Dean coughed and the congestion was audible. “Caleb? Are we leaving now?”

“Not yet, Dean.” Griffin spoke up, sounding far from concerned or sorry. “We’re waiting on your father and Pastor Jim. Imagine their surprise when they find this all to be one big misunderstanding.”

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