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 8/11

The tiger's hunting skills are quite different than most other cat's. Unlike lions and cheetahs, the tiger ambushes it's prey. It waits for them in cover and then lunges, usually killing with one snap of its powerful jaws.

Silas was right about the weather. The snow fell heavier with their ascension of Mt. Mitchell, making traveling slightly perilous. John believed Nature was a moody female. The fact the terrain was breathtaking, appeared utterly harmless and serene on the surface gave credibility to his belief that an essence of feminine persuasion was at hand.

“Rifleman?”

Silas Fox’s voice crackled over the radio. John lowered his binoculars and picked up the walkie-talkie. “Rifleman here.”

“Red Fox heading your way.”

“Roger, Red Fox. White flag engaged.” John rubbed his eyes and set the radio down. It wasn’t exactly ‘military’ protocol, but it would keep them from shooting one another. A snapping of a twig and the sound of movement in the underbrush heralded Silas’s approach.

“That was quick.”

“Didn’t take long to find what I was looking for.”

“What?”

“Definite signs of activity, and not from the friendly forest animals.” Silas pulled his thick gloves off and rubbed his hands together. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a thin metal wire. “Found this along with a nice little explosive device.”

John’s frown deepened. “A grenade? You’re shitting me.” Who the hell were they dealing with?

“Not really. Looked more like a kid’s firework.”

“Designed to make a lot of noise, but not kill.”

“Would have probably hurt like hell.”

“You don’t think it could be left over from someone protecting their recent patch do you?” John knew the south was known for its illegal cash crop of marijuana. The tree canopy provided a perfect camouflage.

“I considered that.” Silas snorted. “But I don’t think we’d see it this high up and I found several of these rigs on the trail as well as the off-beaten path. They’ve been set recently.” He held up the wire again. “No rust.”

Winchester nodded. “So we’re on the right track.”

“Apparently.”

John’s radio squawked and Bobby’s voice echoed around them. “Rifleman, this is Junkyard Dog. Do you read?”

“Red Fox and Rifleman here. Go ahead, JD.”

“I just arrived at Grandma’s house. The Big Bad Wolf is there.”

John took the walkie-talkie from Silas. Bobby confirmed something was going on at Griffin's cabin, and he hoped his boys were there too. “Do you have visual confirmation?”

“No. Lights are on and someone’s got a nice big fire going. Should I go knock?”

John tightened his grip on the radio and sighed in irritation. He would have to wait for Jim, as much as it pained him to be patient. “No. Fall back and regroup.” John thought of Silas’s revelation and added a warning. “Watch out for Animal Control, JD. Red Fox nearly got caught in a trap.”

“Roger. Junkyard over and out.”

“At least we know where they are, John.” Silas spoke up. “That’s more than you knew before.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel a whole hell of a lot better?”

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Caleb remained with his back to the room, and his forehead resting against the closed door. Matthews had escorted him back without the hope of any assistance for Dean. Damn Griffin Porter to hell.

There were moments when Caleb had the sudden urge to kill something. It usually happened when he was bearing witness to a heinous crime he could neither control nor stop. He supposed part of it stemmed from experiencing the worst kind of helplessness as a child. Griffin reminded him of his long buried memories, using the biting blade of truth as a weapon. An effective and painful tool.

Caleb watched the murder of his mother by his loving father. Then he witnessed his father’s suicide while he cowered frozen and powerless in the closet. No matter how deep he buried those memories or wove himself into the fabric of his new life in The Brotherhood, nothing would alter that reality. Caleb’s abilities fated him to forever be in that closet- a watcher of horrible, horrible things.

He turned to face his current reality, knowing shutting his eyes to it would not make it better. Dean and Sam were still sleeping on the bed. Sam’s head rested on Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s arm protectively draped over his little brother. Anyone who didn’t know them would guess it was a normal, peaceful sleep if not for the flush of his cheeks and furrow of Dean’s brow, Sam’s thumb in his mouth

Caleb knew them. Knew Dean was sicker than he’d ever seen him. Knew Sam was scared enough to revert back to his two-year-old thumb sucking. And it made him want to kill Griffin. But he also knew Sam and Dean were doing what they did best, protecting each other the only way they could. And Caleb wanted to preserve that pure, simple untainted feeling to prove to the world, but maybe mainly himself that good did exist.

Reaves sat down on the bed and rested his palm against Dean’s face. The ten-year-old was too hot and Caleb knew he was going to have to do something about it or Dean could die.

That wasn’t acceptable.

Dean had become as much a part of Caleb as those intrinsic urges to destroy everything evil. Protect Deuce was as second nature as swinging a sword or salting and burning a corpse. Maybe more so.

Jim liked to tell him the old Native American tale of the boy who had two wolves warring for dominance inside of him-one good and one evil. The boy was torn and upset that his soul would forever be divided, at ill-rest. He constantly worried about which wolf would come out victorious in the end. Until one day his grandfather, a wise medicine man, shared a simple solution with him. ‘The wolf that wins will be the one you take care of-the one you feed.’

Dean was Caleb’s Champion Wolf.

It wasn’t because John Winchester drilled it into his head or Mac's journal theory of Caleb's ‘latent desires for a sibling bond’. In all fairness, Caleb's use of ‘Deuce’ gave his father credible therapeutic evidence.

He didn’t need John to tell him to watch out for the boys. He formed a bond with Dean when he recognized he had found a kindred spirit. The fact he gained a brother in every way that mattered was merely icing on the cake. And he wasn’t about to lose that. Nor would he allow Sam to lose it.

His thoughts were interrupted as Dean stirred beneath his touch and then opened his eyes.

“It worked,” the ten-year-old muttered.

“What worked?”

Dean turned his head to glance at Sam and then shivered. “Never mind.” He refocused on Caleb. “Don’t do that again, Damien.”

“Do what?”

“Disappear.”

“You were worried about me.” Reaves forced a grin. “I’m trying to save your ass, Deana. So stop the bitching.”

“Am I dying?”

“What?” Caleb’s smile faltered. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s hand with a tight grip. “No. And don’t say that again.”

Dean winced. “Sorry.”

Caleb realized he’d grabbed the kid’s injured hand and released it with a remorseful look. “No…I’m sorry. Just don’t talk like that. Okay?”

“Are you sure?” Dean’s voice was hoarse.

“Deuce.” Caleb sighed, rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m sure. All right? I promise.”

Determined green eyes stayed locked with Caleb’s gold ones. “Did you have a vision?”

“No.” Reaves shook his head, not understanding the line of questioning.

Dean licked his lips. “Good.”

Dean seemed appeased by the answer and that puzzled Caleb. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The ten-year-old shrugged. “You would know if I was in that kind of trouble.”

Caleb felt crushed under the intense scrutiny, the complete faith. “I hope so.”

“Then it just feels like I’m dying.”

Caleb reached up and raked a hand over his hair. “I know it sucks. But hang in there.”

Dean swallowed, grimacing. “Can you try that Griffin trick? The one he did for my hand?”

“No.” Caleb didn’t like to think he had trusted the bastard-given him permission to mess with Dean’s mind. “If I could make you feel better I would, kiddo. Believe me.”

“Where's Griffin? He’s a doctor.”

Caleb clenched his fists. It wasn’t like Dean to ask for help. The boys were still not completely cognizant of the fact Griffin switched camps…or had been in the enemy’s camp all along. “He’s not who we thought he was, Dean.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah. Well that makes two of us.”

“Do you really think Dad is coming?”

Caleb remembered what Sid had told Griffin. Something was up. He hoped it was the rescue he’d been praying for. “I do.”

Dean weakly shoved at the covers, trying to sit up. “We need to …”

Caleb stopped him with a hand to his chest. “The only thing you need to do is rest.”

“But…”

“Deuce, listen to me.”

“But Dad will…” Dean’s words were cut off by a painful round of coughing.

The sound or perhaps Dean’s distress woke the other boy and Sam quickly sat up. He reached out to grab his brother’s arm. “Dean?”

“I’m…okay.” Dean held a hand to his chest, the other tightly twisted in the sheets. “Okay.”

Sam’s frightened eyes went to Reaves. “Caleb?”

“Everything’s going to be all right, Sammy.” The lie rang hollow. Nothing was going right and all three of them knew it. The hopeful gazes leveled on Caleb were lead boots dragging him beneath the wave of despair.

He was momentarily saved from drowning by the entrance of Mathews and Sid. Caleb whirled towards the door, placing himself between the new threat and the boys. He was tired of the whole busting in the room scenario. It was like being stuck in a version of Ground Hog Day, the Bill Murray movie where the same damn thing kept happening over and over again.

“Bring the boys, we’re moving out,” Mathews announced with a wave of his gun.

“What?” Caleb frowned. “What do you mean we’re moving out?”

“He means we’re going on a hike through the woods, Red Riding Hood.” Sid grinned. “Now shut your trap, put your ass in gear and grab Hansel and Gretel.”

Caleb glanced to the boys and then to Mathews. He felt his heart jumping in his chest. “The Triad’s coming, aren’t they?”

Mathews shifted. “You know I’m not very patient, Reaves.”

Caleb took a step forward, keeping his gaze locked with the dark-haired man. Along with his own hope, Caleb had felt something from Mathews. There was fear and regret; but he’d also sensed a twinge of remorse…compassion. “Let them stay here. It’s fucking freezing outside. You know Dean’s sick-too sick to be out in this weather. You’ll still have me for a hostage. I’ll come freely and not cause any trouble.”

“No!” Dean and Sam echoed from behind him.

He turned a fierce gaze on both of them. Caleb pointed his finger for the boys to stay on the bed. “Hush!”

“That’s not how Griffin wants it.”

“And Griffin has to get his way?” Caleb turned to face the henchmen. “At what cost, Mathews? A life? Two lives? When does the price of your misguided loyalty become too high?”

“Enough with the whining!” Sid snapped. He leveled his gun on the children. “If you’re so concerned for the brats’ health I would start moving a little faster and whining a little less.”

Caleb continued to look at Mathews, silently trying one last time. ‘Please. Don’t do this.’

Mathews shook his head. “Do as he says, Caleb. Now.”

“Damn you!” Reaves shouted, feeling more helpless than he could ever remember. He glared at Sid, considering every option available to him.

Mathews must have read his mind. “If something happens to you, Reaves who’s going to watch out for them?”

Caleb swallowed thickly, pulled his eyes from Sid’s smirking face. He didn’t look at Mathews again, instead turning to the boys. He took a breath and forced a calmness he didn’t feel into his words. “Okay, guys. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked.

Reaves shrugged, kneeling down in the floor to retrieve the boys’ shoes. He grabbed Sam and pulled him close to him. “It doesn’t matter, Sammy. We’re going there together.”

Caleb quickly maneuvered Sam’s sock-covered feet into the sneakers. “Remember how to tie them?”

Sam nodded. “Dean taught me.”

Caleb forced a smile. “Of course he did.” He glanced to the older Winchester and winked. “Your big brother learned the first time I showed him. Of course that was only last year…”

The tactic worked and Dean’s mouth twitched. “I…was five.”

“And on your way to failing that particular kindergarten skill if I remember correctly,” Caleb told him as he slipped Dean’s Converses on his feet. “You’d been destined to wear Velcro for life if it weren’t for me.”

“This is all very touching, but it’s not getting us out of here any faster!” Sid snapped. He had moved closer to them. “Maybe I should help things along?”

Caleb stood and blocked the man. “Touch either one of them and I will shred what little mental faculties you have left, Sid, so that your buddy Mike has to hire someone to feed you and wipe your ass.”

Sid’s face hardened, but he hesitated. “Griffin and the others are right outside the door.”

Caleb stood his ground and noticed Mathews wasn’t interceding. “They won’t be fast enough to save you.” When Sid didn’t move, Caleb nodded. “You’re smarter than you look.”

He turned and pulled his flannel shirt off, sliding it over Sam’s shoulders. “Put this on, Runt.” Neither boy had a coat and Caleb suspected no one was going to offer theirs.

“But what about you?” Sam asked, sliding his arms into the too-long sleeves.

“I’ll be fine. Hiking always makes me hot.”

Dean’s too-knowing eyes were locked on him once more and Caleb offered another lop-sided grin. “I can’t take being much hotter than I am, Deuce. Neither can the women.”

“I…don’t want to go.”

The words shook Caleb’s resolve and he faltered for a second. It was such a typical whiny-ass kid protest that Reaves almost wanted to laugh. Dean never acted like a normal kid and the one time he did, Caleb couldn’t cater to him. “I know. But suck it up, kiddo.”

Dean’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and Caleb felt his whole body quake. “Yes, sir.”

Reaves grabbed two blankets. He tossed one to Sam and wrapped the other securely around Dean. “I’ll make this up to you. I swear.”

“Not your fault.”

The absolution mixed bitterly with the hoarse and weary tone. Caleb sighed. “Doesn’t seem to matter.”

Reaves wasn’t sure the ten-year-old heard him until Dean’s green gaze met his once more. “It does to us.”

“Let’s move, Reaves.” Sid stepped back and motioned the trio towards the door.

Caleb scooped up Sam and took Dean’s hand. “What about Dr. Griffin?” Sam asked as they made their way to the front of the cabin. “Is he coming?”

Dean stumbled over his own feet and Caleb had to tighten his grip to keep the boy moving. He glared at Mathews who was watching their progress with a detached look. “Oh, he’ll be coming with us, Sammy.”

“But where are we going?”

“To where the bears sleep, Samuel. Won’t that be fun?”

Griffin was waiting on them in front of the roaring fire. He was decked out in winter gear, as was Mike.

“Bears?” Dean croaked, moving closer to Caleb.

Griffin smiled his enigmatic grin and came closer to the boy. “A phobia?”

Caleb draped his arm over Dean’s shoulder. “The kid has a Goldilocks Complex. Does it get him out of going?”

Porter laughed. “I’m afraid not. Dean is an important person. He needs to come along.”

Reaves clenched his jaw. “You said the boys weren’t a threat to you.”

“They’re not.”

“Then why make this harder than it has to be? They should stay here. They’ll only slow down your escape.” Caleb knew reasoning with the man was probably impossible, but he held out hope that beneath the cold veneer there was a man worthy of a ring-a man once deserving of Jim Murphy’s friendship.

Griffin shook his head. “This is not an escape, Caleb.”

Reaves brow furrowed. “Then why the hell are you dragging us out into the storm? If you’re not running from the Triad…” It was more deception. “You’re leading them into a trap. You never wanted to make a deal.”

“That’s not true.” Mathews entered the conversation, denying what Caleb had read from Griffin. The other psychic hadn’t bothered to shield his traitorous plan from Reaves. He wanted Caleb to know what was in store for him-for the boys even as he continued to hide it from Mathews.

Porter held up a hand to stop his friend’s defense. “Save your breath for the hike, Jarrett. Caleb is not as smart as he likes to think. I’d wager he gets that from his father.”

Caleb didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he focused on breathing to keep the panic at bay. John would find a way to get them out of this.

“We’ll go now.” Griffin nodded for Mike to pick up their gear and Sid brushed past them to open the door.

“The boys don’t have coats.” Caleb said matter-of-factly, determined to keep the tremble out of his voice. “Dean can barely stay vertical. Sam won’t be able to walk long in this snow.”

Griffin glanced at Mike, who offered up his own knit hat and scarf. “Take these.”

Caleb stared at the man for a moment before accepting the items. He placed the hat on Sam and handed the scarf to Dean. “You guys are a bunch of saints.”

“The trip won’t be that long.” Griffin nodded his head to Dean. “If you want, I can make the boy more comfortable. I’m no healer, but the mind can trick the body into believing wondrous things.”

Caleb hesitated, a part of him anxious to help Dean in anyway even if it meant making a deal with the devil. Yet that ‘protect Deuce’ part was howling in protest. He glanced at Dean who was looking up at him and felt the boy’s fingers clutch his. Caleb returned his gaze to Griffin. “Do it.”

“Caleb?” Sam’s hesitant voice brushed against the eighteen-year-old’s cheek.

Reaves hefted him higher, holding him tighter. “It’s okay, Runt.”

Sam watched the doctor tend to his brother before leaning his face close to Caleb’s once more. “Is Griffin not our friend anymore?” he whispered.

“No.” Caleb felt the moment Dean’s pain disappeared. He squeezed the ten-year-old’s hand and lowered his voice. “He never was our friend, Sammy.”

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Onto Chapter 9

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