Toy
Soldiers
By Ridley C. James, January 2007
Beta: Tidia
Rating: T-language and situations
Disclaimer: Nope. The boys are not
mine.
Words: 7.818
RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ
“The muffled
drum’s sad roll has beat, The soldier’s last tattoo;
No more
on Life’s parade shall meet, The brave and fallen few.
On
Fame’s eternal camping-ground, Their silent tents are spread,
And
glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.” -Theodore
O’Hara
“I’ll call your five and raise you
ten more.” Oliver Havers, aka Moose, tossed several chips into the pot
and grinned his wide, toothy smile at the other players around the
table. “I have a gut feeling about this.”
“That’s probably that green chili
burrito you had for lunch, Moose.” Fin Davis smirked at the other boy,
glancing back to his cards. “Besides, how do we know you have the money
to back up your big mouth? Last time I checked you were still in the
hole from last week’s game.”
“Shut up, Huck.” The football player
used his teammate’s nickname. “I don’t see you giving Skid Row any
grief about his bet.” Moose gestured to the poker player opposite of
him. “He’s in for a whole lot more than me.”
All eyes went to the quiet, dark
haired teen at the end of the table, who was studying his own hand with
slight interest. The kid lifted his amber gaze to the blond and
shrugged. “It helps to have a trust fund, Moose.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that he never
loses.” Lee Connelly, the fourth player at the table, sighed and
stretched his lanky frame. He shook his head at Fin and folded his
cards. “I’m out.”
“What? You’re abandoning a brother,
Lee?” Fin shook his head in disgust. “Leaving me alone with the two
white boys?”
“I’ll watch your ass at the game on
Saturday, but I’m not risking my paycheck, man. I have a date with
Sharon.”
“It’s a sad state when a man of your
athletic stature has to pay to get laid, Connelly.” The dark haired kid
gave him a dimpled grin and flashed his hand. It wasn’t a typical night
that found him in the company of his college peers, but even he had to
admit it wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. “I sure hope these other
boys have my luck with the ladies seeing as how I’m taking all their
money.”
“Shit!” Fin cursed, eyeing the four
queens and the deuce, which had been designated ‘wild’.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I never joke about cards.”
The dark-skinned youth hauled off and
punched Havers in the shoulder. “You just had to ask your freshman
roommate to join in our weekly game, Moose?”
“Hey! It was your idea.” The other
boy groused, rubbing his massive bicep with a look of bruised feelings.
Fin sighed. “Yeah. Well, that’s when
I thought he was some pansy-assed, rich white boy who thought Bridge
was a type of poker.”
Moose flashed the man in question a
quick grin. “How was I to know he was a dog in sheep’s clothing?”
“That’s wolf, Einstein,” Lee told him
with a roll of his eyes. “Damn you better be glad you’re quicker on the
field than you are in the classroom.”
Moose took the good-natured ribbing
with another grin. “With my looks and skills, who needs smarts?” He
glanced to his roommate. “Besides, Skid Row is going to get me a sweet
job after school, so I’m set.”
“A job?” Fin shot the dark haired
teen a skeptical look. He had been the one to tag the new kid with the
name ’Skid Row’ after finding how untypical the multi-millionaire heir
was. Fin found him almost a kindred spirit to his friends back in the
old neighborhood. “You really think Moose is the Fortune 500 type?
Damn, you’d be better off bringing my black ass into your daddy’s fancy
company. At least I have the minority card.”
“Grand father’s company.” The kid
corrected, picking up his beer and killing what was left in the amber
bottle. “My dad’s a doctor and no matter how many times the coach
red-shirts the big guy, I really don‘t think Moose is going to make it
into med school.”
“Right.” Fin rolled his eyes, with a
half-grin of his own. “I forgot.”
A knock at the door interrupted any
reply and Moose nearly sent the card table crashing to the floor as he
leapt to his feet. “Thank God! The pizza’s here. I‘m starving.”
Oliver ignored the chorus of insults
tossed at his back as he maneuvered through the dormitory suite to get
to the entrance. “It’s about time,” he huffed as he threw back the
door, prepared to argue the thirty minute time frame that would allow
him and his college pals a free meal. “And don’t even try that bad
weather spiel on…” He stopped in mid sentence, finding no pizza boy,
but instead a shivering kid standing in the hallway. The boy couldn’t
have been more than eleven or twelve, definitely not old enough to
drive.
He was drenched from the storm which
had been raging outside for the last hour. The boy looked half frozen
even though the rain had yet to turn to snow. His light hair was
plastered to his head, his face held an array of nicks and cuts, all
offset by an impressive black and purple bruise that framed one of his
mossy green eyes. “Don’t tell me Domino’s is using child labor now?”
Moose smiled, glancing down the hall behind the kid. “Is this some kind
of sympathy tactic to keep customers from demanding their due or did
those jerks in E7 send you up here?”
The kid frowned, shifting from foot
to foot. He looked up at the giant that had opened the door, and did
his best to look unimpressed by the bulk or stature. He only had one
thing on his mind, and he’d made it too far to let some Hulk Hogan
wannabe stand in his way. “Is Caleb here?” he asked, trying to keep the
chattering out of his voice.
“Caleb?” Moose straightened up, his
smile growing. “Who’s asking, Little Dude?”
The boy exhaled loudly, obviously not
in the mood for the twenty questions. “None of your fucking business,
Herman Munster.”
“Don’t tell me.” Moose rolled his
eyes. “You’re a relative.”
“Good guess. Now is he here or not?”
Moose stepped back and waved the kid
in. “He’s here. Come in but leave the bad attitude outside if you don‘t
mind.”
The boy tossed a glare in his
direction, which spoke volumes about what Moose could do with his
suggestion and stepped in. Oliver had no doubt the kid was related to
Reaves now. He noticed the slight limp and frowned. The boy looked like
he’d gone up against Auburn’s defensive line. Sort of like Caleb Reaves
had the first time he met him, nearly five months before. “In here.”
Moose laid a hand on the blond’s shoulder to point him in the right
direction, but the boy jerked away.
“I got it,” the kid growled. Oliver
moved around him with a shake of his head to push through the swinging
doors that separated the living room from the small kitchen area.
“Yo, Reaves, you’ve got company.”
Caleb was leaned over another hand of
cards, having been kind enough to let Fin try and win some of his money
back, when Moose’s booming voice had him glancing up. He didn’t know
who he expected, but the face that greeted him sent a spike of fear and
dread knifing through his gut, the proverbial house of cards crumbling
around him. “Deuce? What the hell…” He dropped his sweet hand, the game
forgotten. Standing quickly, he made it to the kid in two steps.
“Hey,” the boy replied, his eyes
filling the instant they met Reaves’s dark gaze. “I was in the
neighborhood.”
“What are you doing here?” Caleb
knelt in front of him, his hands gripping Dean’s shoulders, as his eyes
raked over the kid‘s face. “Are you hurt?”
Dean shook his head, biting his lip
to keep his feelings under control. He was vaguely aware of the other
people in the room, the curious eyes on them, and the instinct to stay
quiet in front of strangers overrode any desire to seek comfort for
himself. “I’m okay,” he managed, but Caleb didn‘t look at all convinced.
“God, you’re like ice.” Caleb grabbed
a tattered blanket from the back of the futon and tossed it across
Dean’s shoulders. A thousand thoughts ran through Reaves mind. None of
them good. “Is Sammy okay?” The question had Dean choking back a sob
that threatened to shatter what little bit of composure he had left,
but he quickly nodded.
“Caleb?” Moose’s voice was full of
concern and he glanced up at the other teen. “Do you need me to call
somebody? Does he need a doctor?”
“No.” Both Caleb and Dean answered at
the same time. Fin and Lee exchanged knowing looks, both standing up
from the table.
“It’s okay.” Caleb glanced from Dean
to the other guys in the room. “This is Dean…my nephew,” he explained.
“I got it covered.”
There was another knock on the door,
heralding the real pizza deliveryman, and it gave Reaves the chance to
move them out of the spotlight. “I’ll take care of the kid.” Caleb
stood, turning Dean towards a door off to the right. “You boys eat.” He
waved them off. “We’ll be fine.”
Caleb opened the door to his bedroom,
ushering Dean in, glancing back over his shoulder when he heard Lee
mention something about even rich families being fucked up. He sighed,
his hopes of completely keeping his personal life private and to
himself forgotten. “I’m sorry,” Dean said as soon as they were alone,
as if he could read the other boy’s thoughts. “I didn’t know where else
to go.”
“Deuce.” Caleb gently pushed him down
on the bed and squatted in front of him once again. “What the hell are
you doing here? How in God’s name did you get here?”
“I took a bus.”
“A bus?” Caleb shook his head. “By
yourself?”
“I’m not a baby.”
Reaves ran a hand through his hair.
“You’re eleven. How did you even buy a ticket?”
“I paid a guy to do it for me.”
“Damnit, Dean.” A hundred worse case
scenarios ran through the nineteen-year-old’s mind and he sighed. “Do
you know what could happen to you? Riding a fucking Greyhound alone?”
Caleb didn’t even want to know how the kid made it to the school. The
bus station was almost thirty minutes away by car.
Dean snorted. “No worse than what
happened to me already.”
Caleb frowned at that, reaching out
to tilt the boy‘s head so he could get a better look at his face. “What
did happen to you, Kiddo? You look like you went a few rounds with
Tyson.”
When Dean didn’t answer but merely
shivered, Reaves pulled at the boy’s jacket. “Come on. Let’s loose the
hypothermic wardrobe? Huh?”
It took a while, but they slowly got
Dean divested of the wet clothes and into an old ball shirt and ancient
sweats of Caleb’s. Reaves wrapped the blanket back around him. “You
still cold?”
The blond shook his head and Reaves
sighed. “Enough with the mime-act. Talk to me.”
He had noticed the bruises on the
boy’s back and side and it was enough to have him questioning his brash
decision not to do a hospital run. He needed to know what was going on.
“What the hell happened?”
Dean looked up at him and when he did
Reaves wasn’t sure he recognized the emotion in the familiar green
eyes. “I don’t want to do it anymore, Caleb.” His lower lip trembled
and his green eyes filled again. “I don’t want to be a hunter.”
Caleb’s frown deepened as did his
worry. Dean had wanted to hunt as long as he had known him, always
begging his father to be allowed to help on the less dangerous gigs.
When the kid turned ten and was finally allowed to tag along on a
couple of simple hauntings; you would have thought he won the lottery.
“Dean, tell me what happened.”
Because something obviously had. No
way would Dean not want to hunt, nor would he have up and taken off in
the middle of the night to come to Alabama alone. Caleb didn’t even
want to think about what John was doing at that very moment. “Spill it,
Deuce, or I’m going to call your old man.”
“No!” Dean grabbed his arm, even
though Caleb had made no move towards the phone by the bed. “Please.
Just let me stay here.”
“Dean…”
“I don’t want to go back to that
house. Dad will make me.”
Caleb exhaled loudly, joining the boy
on the bed. “Dean, you’re not making any sense.”
“It was a poltergeist,” he confessed
and Reaves picked up on the wrongly placed guilt. “I was supposed to
help Dad trap it in one area of the house, but it got past the rock
salt and I couldn’t get away from it, and…” There was an
uncharacteristic tremble in the kid’s voice and the fear rolling off of
him was singeing every nerve in Caleb’s body. The psychic shook his
head, holding up a hand for Dean to stop.
“It’s okay. I get the picture.” And
he did. Vivid images were flashing through his mind unbidden. The
connection to Dean was strong and he could feel every bump and bruise
as if they were his own.
Dean wasn’t assuaged, more tears fell
and the kid kept rambling. “It just kept coming after me and it hurt,
and… Sammy was there and he was crying. I kept trying to yell for Dad
but he never came and…”
“Hey,” Caleb reached out, cupping the
back of the kid’s neck when Dean started gasping for breath. “Take it
easy. It’s okay. You’re safe now. Sammy’s okay.”
Dean wrapped a hand in the older
boy‘s shirt, shaking his head back and forth. “But…he said I had to go
back and finish it tomorrow. Like… a ….stupidhorse.”
Reaves frowned when Dean actually
buried his head against his chest, folding into him like he had only a
few times before when he was either terrified or sick. “A horse?” Caleb
asked, running a hand over the boy’s hair, trying to get him to calm
down. Then it came to him. The old adage about the only way to get over
the fear of being thrown was to climb right back into the saddle. That
sounded just like John. Damn it. “You’re dad didn’t finish it?”
He felt Dean shake his head. “I guess
it knocked me out and when I came to we were back at Pastor Jim’s.”
“Damn, Dean. You took a bus from
Kentucky?”
Again the boy nodded, and Caleb felt
the small tremors still running through his slight frame. “I knew Sammy
would be safe with Pastor Jim…and I didn’t have enough money for two
tickets.”
“Dean, man, Johnny is going to
freak.” And the kid thought the poltergeist was bad. “We need to call
him and let him know where you are.” John Winchester didn’t like anyone
disobeying the chain of command, especially his sons.
Dean pulled away, a look of panic
replacing the one of fear. “No.” He blinked, pulling out all the stops.
“Please, Caleb. Don’t make me go back. Please.”
And in the end they both knew it
would be impossible for the older boy to ignore the tone or the
imploring gaze was made even more potent by the black eye and other
injuries. “Fine,” he growled, pointing a finger at the kid. “But first
thing in the morning…” After all, the most important thing was that the
boy was safe.
Dean nodded. “I understand.”
Caleb glanced at the clock that
showed it was nearly midnight. He pulled back the comforter with a
huff. “Now go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime.”
“Bedtime?” Dean frowned, a hint of
his usual cockiness shining through. “They don’t have bedtimes in
college.”
Caleb laughed. “Yeah, but the last
time I checked you were in the sixth grade.”
“But I haven’t even had dinner yet.”
Reaves raised a brow and the kid
shrugged. “And I smell pizza.”
“You are so pushing your luck, Brat.”
Despite Caleb’s warning, Dean’s luck
held up, garnering him the last three slices of the pie and a good
chunk of Fin and Lee’s money after he surprised them with his poker
playing expertise. Caleb had to buy him out of the game before the
others would leave, and even then Fin had accused Reaves of setting him
up with the mini-shark, demanding a rematch at a later date.
The eleven-year-old had rubbed it in,
telling them not to feel too bad. He then, in typical Dean fashion,
pointed out most college athletes had significantly low IQ’s, and he
was pretty sure his baby brother could have held his own with the
geniuses at the table.
His ballsy act had Moose eating out
of the palm of his hand and offering to show him around campus the next
day while Caleb was at class. And despite that little voice that said
John was going to kill him, Reaves caved yet again.
It wasn’t like he could actually blow
off his schedule, and what difference did it make if Dean was
sequestered in a dorm room or out in the fresh air. Still, it was
nearly three in the morning before he’d convinced himself he was doing
the only thing he could and close to four when he finally fought his
way to sleep on the rough carpeted floor, having sacrificed his bed to
his uninvited house guest. So, when the phone rang at eight o’clock in
the fucking morning he wasn’t in the best of moods.
Despite his body’s protests, he
scrambled to grab the offending device before it could wake Dean, or
worse, Moose, who had another line in his room. “What?” He growled,
collapsing back to the floor and pulling the quilt over his head.
“Caleb?” His father’s sharp voice did
nothing to calm his aching head and he blew out a frustrated breath.
“Caleb has left the building and will
not return until a fucking decent hour of the day.”
“Watch the language,” Mac snapped
back, and Reaves sighed.
“Dad, why are you calling in the
middle of the night?”
“It’s morning.”
“For you maybe.”
“The last time I checked we both
resided in the same time zone, young man.”
“Yeah, well college time and old
person time are notoriously askew.”
“I see you have been taking advantage
of the new thesaurus I sent you.”
“Did you really call to talk about my
vernacular, Mac?”
“No.” He heard his father take a deep
breath as if bracing himself. “I wish that were the case, but I’m
afraid I have some bad news, Son.”
“What?” Caleb rolled over on his
back, pushing his thoughts aside, just in case his father could pick up
on his surge of emotion.
“Do you have any important classes
today?” His father’s typical attempt at redirection had him rolling his
eyes.
“Yeah. I have a test, and a paper to
turn in. Why?”
“I was hoping you could fly out to
Kentucky.”
“Dad…”Caleb started, but his father
cut him off.
“It’s Dean. He’s gone missing.”
“Dad…” The younger man tried again,
but his father continued on.
“We don’t know exactly what happened.
I should be able to get a reading on something of his when I get there.
I’m at the airport as we speak. My flight leaves in about ten minutes.”
“Shit.” Caleb rubbed at his eyes,
knowing his father had rearranged his entire busy schedule to go to
Kentucky to help find his best friend’s missing son, who wasn’t
actually missing. “Dad…listen to me…”
“I know how you feel, Son. I know
what Dean means to you…”
“Then I guess you will understand
what I’m about to tell you.”
That seemed to get Mac’s attention
and he finally grew quiet. “What are you about to tell me, Caleb?”
He had that same tone as the time
when Caleb had tried to explain how the goat had actually gotten into
his high school principal’s office. “Dean’s here with me, Dad.”
“What!” There it was. “How can that
be?”
Caleb winced, amazed Dean didn’t stir
when his father’s voice boomed through the line. “He showed up at my
dorm room last night.”
“Dean is with you?”
“Yeah.” Hadn’t he just said that?
“My God, Caleb! Do you know what
we’ve been going through? John is a mess. He’s at his wit’s end. Jim’s
contacted almost every hunter in the tri-state area, afraid of a repeat
from last year’s little coup with Griffin. And Sammy…he’s inconsolable.”
“What the hell did you expect me to
do?”
“I expected you to call his father,
Caleb! For Christ’s sake, I don’t know what you’re thinking half the
time.”
“Well let me enlighten you, Mac. I
was thinking the kid was hurt and scared out of his mind. Forgive me if
I didn’t follow proper Brotherhood protocol or do what the great
Mackland Ames son should have.”
He could hear the disappointment in
his father’s momentary silence. “We’ll be lucky if John doesn’t kill
you both. Perhaps you should spend the summer abroad.”
“Dad, I’m not going anywhere. This
sounds like it’s Johnny’s fault to begin with.”
“Caleb…”
“Don’t Caleb me. Did they tell you
about the poltergeist? That Dean got pummeled by the bitch? And that
John tried to turn it into some kind of teachable moment. Fuck that. I
was almost fifteen before I faced down a poltergeist. He’s not going
back there.”
“What?” Mac snapped. “What do you
mean he’s not going back? John’s his father…”
“I meant to the poltergeist gig, Mac.
I’ll finish the thing.”
The doctor sighed heavily, and Caleb
could envision him running his fingers across his eyebrow, a tell-tale
sign he was at his breaking point. “Jim explained the situation. The
house was the first place they checked, incase Dean had gone back there
on his own.”
“Trust me. That never entered his
mind.”
“Son, you need to bring him back to
Kentucky. Now.” Mac seemed to think of something for the first time.
“How exactly…how did he get there in the first place?”
“Greyhound.”
“For the love of…Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He sat with some nice grandma
from Florida the whole way.”
“John will love that. Perhaps Dean
should take your place abroad.”
“I’m not bringing him back until John
cools off, Dad.”
“Are you really prepared to raise a
child, Son? You’re just a boy yourself and we both know why I never let
you have a pet.”
“You choose now to grow a sense of
humor, Mac?”
His father sighed. “I’ll see if I can
buy you some time, seeing as how you do have important classes today.”
“And tomorrow,” Caleb added. Actually
his Friday load was light, but that would give him the weekend for a
long road trip to Kentucky and back. Plus, John might have actually
gone from volatile to only slightly irate by then. “We can head up that
way this weekend.”
“Fine,” Mac relented. “But I can’t
guarantee you that John won’t head your way as soon as he finds out.”
“Talk to him, Dad. Better yet, have
Jim order him to stay there.”
“I’ll try, Son.”
Caleb cut the connection and pushed
himself up from the floor with a groan. Seeing as how he was up he
might as well try to catch his first class.
Dean was still sleeping when he made
it out of the shower. The kid was sprawled out across the twin bed like
any normal little boy that didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe
Reaves couldn’t save him from the consequences of their real life but
perhaps he could give him a two day reprieve.
He leaned over the boy, pushing the
hair back away from the kid’s bruised face. “Deuce?”
“Yeah?” the kid mumbled, blearily
looking up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Caleb rested his
hand on his head again, making sure he was awake. “I’m going to class.
Listen to Moose today. Got it?” Moose, despite his size and reputation
on the ball field, was basically an overgrown kid, a gentle giant, and
he didn’t have a problem with trusting him with Dean, at least as much
as he trusted anyone. “You okay with me leaving?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Apparently
better than you.”
Caleb sighed. “Yeah.”
The kid yawned, pulling the covers
back up to his chin. “I’ll be fine.”
“Play your cards right and I’ll treat
for dinner tonight.”
A faint grin tugged at the corner of
Dean’s mouth. “As long as you’re not cooking it.”
“Actually I know this girl…”
“Stop.” Dean held up his hand. “I’m
too old for fairytales, man.”
Caleb laughed. “Just tell Moose to
have you back here by five.”
It was actually closer to a quarter
after five when the two arrived back to the dorm room. Caleb was
beginning to doubt his judgment and would have been angry if Dean
hadn’t seemed so damn pleased with himself.
“Should I be worried that you’re
looking way too much like the cat that swallowed the canary, Deuce?”
The eleven-year-old shot Moose a
look. “Should I tell him about my winning touch down first or the
tattoo?”
“Tattoo?” Caleb flipped off the T.V.
he had pretended to be watching and gave his roommate a hard glance.
“Oliver?”
The big defensive lineman gave him a
grin, and shook his head of shaggy blond hair. “Don’t worry I wouldn’t
let Little Dude do anything stupid. He wanted the heart with MOM
written on it and I talked him into something a little more original.”
“Oh good. I knew I could trust you.”
Dean marched over to the worn couch
and rolled up the sleeve to the new Auburn shirt in his size Caleb had
asked Moose to buy him and pointed to his newly inked bicep. “What do
you think?”
A playing card covered the better
part of the kid’s upper shoulder. It was the two of Spades. The Deuce
card. “I think it better wash off.”
Dean laughed. “It’s henna. Moose’s
old lady, Maeve, did it.”
“Whoa…whoa… there now. Old lady
implies that I only have one. Maeve is a girl and a friend, of which I
have many.”
“She was hot and she smelled like
strawberries. I liked her.”
Caleb snorted. “Hot?” Maybe Moose
hadn’t been the wisest choice for babysitter.
Dean bobbed his eyebrow at Reaves.
“She said I looked like you.”
“Really now.” Caleb grinned,
recalling the curvaceous blond that worked at the InkSpot tattoo and
piercing parlor.
Moose nodded. “Kid told her not to
hold that against him, though. He’d eventually grow out of the awkward
stage.”
Reaves rolled his eyes as the
football player burst out laughing. “He kills me,” Moose guffawed,
slapping his muscular, jean-clad thigh. “The things that come out of
his mouth.”
“Yeah, he’s a real funny kid.” Caleb
shook his head at the smirking eleven-year-old.
“Coach even let him out on the field
with us at practice.”
“I filled the water bottles,” Dean
explained. “And met the cheerleaders.”
“The whole black eye thing pulls the
sympathy let me tell you,” Moose interjected. “We even got free pie at
the cafeteria.”
“Free pie?” Caleb nodded. “Wow.
You‘re really in there, Deuce.”
“College food is a lot better than
regular school food. Sammy would have loved it.”
The kid’s expression changed slightly
at the mention of his brother’s name and he swallowed thickly. “Maybe
he can come next time.”
“If he’s anything like you, Little
Dude, then mi casa, su casa,” Moose assured him.
Dean nodded, but the haunted look was
still on his face and Caleb leaned forward giving him a little shove
towards the bathroom. “Speaking of Mexican…why don’t you go get washed
up, Kid, and we’ll head out to dinner. Some of us didn’t have free pie.
I’m starving.”
Once the kid disappeared into Caleb’s
room, the psychic turned to Oliver. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him,
man. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t sweat it, Skid. It was nice to
actually know you have a real family. I was beginning to believe Fin’s
theory about you being in the whole witness relocation program.”
Caleb ducked his head. He’d worked
hard not to involve himself in the college life. His grandfather
offered to pay for a suite of his own, but as an underclassman Reaves
wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Ending up
with Moose for a roommate had been a fluke. “Fin doesn’t have a clue.”
“Seriously though, Dean can stay here
anytime.”
“Thanks.”
“But about the bruises…I don’t mean
to pry, but did your brother do that to him?”
Caleb shook his head, fighting his
first instinct to tell the other man to piss off. It wasn’t any of his
damn business. If there had been anything but sincere concern in the
big man’s blue eyes, he might have. “No, Deuce got in a fight at
school. He was afraid his dad would freak, so he ran.” The lies slipped
easily from his tongue, reminding him of why he worked so hard to keep
his personal life just that-personal.
“Kid’s got some guts.”
“You don’t know the half of it, man.”
He looked back over his shoulder towards his room. “You don’t know the
half of it.”
“So Dad’s not going to kill me?” Dean
kept shifting in his seat, alternating his time between messing with
the radio and looking out the window. The fidgeting had increased the
closer they got to Jim’s.
Caleb sighed. “All Mac could promise
was that he would try to help us make a clean getaway if worse came to
worse. He knows plastic surgeons. They could give us a whole new look.”
Dean glanced at him, worry still
looming in his green eyes. Even humor wasn’t pulling him out of his
funk. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”
Caleb shot him a look. “No you’re
not. You could have just as easily have hitched a ride to
Bobby’s-spared me a front seat at this little love fest at the farm.”
A hint of a smile played at the kid’s
mouth. “The last time I was there I had to get a Tetanus shot. You
really wouldn’t want your favorite nephew to suffer through that again
would you?”
“Who says you’re my favorite? Sammy’s
looking better and better.”
Dean looked back out the window, and
Caleb exhaled loudly. “Deuce, stop worrying. It’ll be over soon enough.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel
better?”
“No, the fact that I’m going in there
with you and that I have your back is suppose to do that.”
“Are you packing?”
Reaves grinned. “Of course.”
“Okay. That helps, but I still don’t
want to hunt.”
They had avoided the topic of
conversation, at least Dean had and Caleb hadn’t tried hard to initiate
any heavier discussion than whether they would eat pizza or hot dogs
for dinner. “Look, Deuce…”
“You said you had my back? Right?”
“You know I do.”
“It’s just that the last time I
messed up…”
Reaves frowned, catching bits and
pieces of the memory Dean was replaying in his mind. “Dean…that witch
would have gotten to Sammy if you’d been there or not.”
“Dad still hasn’t forgiven me.”
The psychic gripped the steering
wheel not understanding the way John’s mind worked. The kid would do
anything to not disappoint his father and the older man wasn’t above
using emotional blackmail to keep Dean in line. “Look, Deuce. You don’t
want to hunt anymore? I can live with that.” He shot the kid a look as
they pulled onto the road that would lead them to Jim’s farm. “Now
whether your dad let’s you live with it…that’s a whole different story.”
“Dean!” Sam was the first to greet
them, closely followed by Atticus Finch. He launched himself at his big
brother wrapping his arms around the older boy. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too.” Dean hugged his brother,
and then held him at arm’s length. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Sam gave him the
double-eyed wink he thought was as subtle as the real thing, and
lowered his voice. “But I cried a lot, so no one would know you told me
where you were going.”
“I figured the runt was in on it.”
Caleb shook his head. “Your big brother is leading you down the path to
the dark side, young Skywalker.”
“Does it lead to your house?” Sam
smiled sweetly. “’Cause I want to stay with you next time.”
“I don’t know if Auburn can handle
both Winchesters.”
The happy homecoming was cut short as
John suddenly exited the house, the banging of the screen door
punctuating his mood.
Caleb felt Dean tense beside of him
and he had the sudden urge to step in front of the kid, or maybe pile
him and Sam in the Jeep and get the hell out of Dodge. But to his
surprise, the eleven-year-old moved around him and started forward
towards his father.
John grabbed the boy as soon as he
got in range, nearly jerking him off his feet as he pulled Dean towards
him. “John,” Mac tried, coming out of the farmhouse on Winchester’s
heels. The other hunter glared at him. “Stay the hell out of this,
Mackland!”
Caleb made a move forward, his hand
on Sam’s shoulder, but his father motioned for him to stay where he
was. “Dad?”
“And you!” John pointed a finger at
him. “You’re next.”
“Dad…he didn’t do anything,” Dean
tried, but John tightened his grip on the boy.
“Do you know what I went through when
I couldn’t find you?” John gave him a hard shake. “Do have any idea
what that was like for me?” He glanced up at Caleb. “Do either of you?”
“I’m sorry,” Dean choked but John was
hearing none of it.
“You took a bus, Dean! A bus to
another state. Anything could have happened to you. I could have lost
you!”
“I’m sorry…” Dean tried again, his
voice breaking and Caleb felt Sam lean into his leg. He wanted to move,
to do something, but felt paralyzed by the situation. His father was
giving John space, but he could tell by the tension in his stance that
he wouldn’t let the situation go too far. But then John was yelling
again, and Dean’s thoughts echoed in his mind. ‘It’ll be okay. It’ll be
okay.’ The kid was silently repeating the mantra over and over again,
trying to comfort himself and the idea of it had the psychic seething.
“John, just listen to him for a
goddamn minute…” Caleb tried, and he heard his father’s sigh of
frustration as John roughly shoved Dean towards the house “Go to your
room, Dean! I’ll be in there as soon as I send your roommate here back
to school.”
Reaves shook his head. “I’m not going
anywhere.”
“You!” The oldest Winchester moved
towards Reaves. “Will do what I fucking tell you to do and if you
don‘t…”
“Dad…it’s not his fault.” Dean
reached up and grabbed his father’s arm to stop his advancement towards
Caleb and Sam.
John reacted without thought. He
jerked his arm away, his hand catching the kid hard across the mouth.
Dean went sprawling on the ground, and Sam started crying.
Caleb wasn’t sure who was more
shocked at the turn of events. Dean, Mackland or him. They all were
staring at John like his head had started to spin and he was spewing
pea soup.
“Johnathan!” Pastor Jim’s deep voice
echoed from the doorway where he had been standing quiet sentry, and it
seemed to break the paralyzing spell.
Dean brought his hand up to his
mouth, where a few drops of blood had blossomed on his bottom lip. He
blinked up at his father as if he didn’t quite understand how he had
ended up on the ground. “You son of a bitch…“ Caleb swore, starting for
John.
“Caleb!” Mackland growled, stopping
his son‘s foolhardy move with a fiery glare. “Stay. Where. You. Are.”
“You better listen to your daddy,
boy.” John pointed a finger at the younger hunter.
“And you,” Mac addressed his friend,
“get a hold of yourself.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Mac. I’m
sick of your condescending tone and parent lectures. I should just take
the boys and get the hell out of here-never look back.”
“You will do no such thing.” Pastor
Jim had stopped beside Dean, who was currently being checked out by his
sobbing little brother.
“Shh, it’s okay, Sammy,” Dean said
softly to his brother.
Winchester opened his mouth to say
something, but the look the pastor shot him had him redirecting his
attention to Dean. “Go. To. Your. Room.” The irate hunter bit out each
word.
Dean pushed himself up from the
ground, taking off in a run towards the house not wanting anyone else
to get hurt on his account. He followed the order.
Jim scooped Sam up with a
disappointed shake of his head and they followed Dean into the
farmhouse.
“He was scared of the damn
poltergeist.” Caleb spoke up, not minding the glare his own father was
sending him. “He didn’t want to go back to do the job-a job no eleven
year-old should have been doing in the first place. You shouldn’t have
told him he had to.”
John whirled on the kid. “You think
because I gave you that ring that you can talk to me like that?” He
thrust his finger in the younger hunter’s chest. “Because ever since
then you seem to have this idea that we’re somehow on equal footing.”
“What?” Caleb shook his head. “This
has nothing to do with hunting.”
“Then why are you running your mouth
to me?” John demanded, coolly.
“John,” Mac warned, but Winchester
continued on.
“Because the last time I checked, I
was The Knight, and you were my understudy. That’s it, kid-nothing
more.”
Caleb clenched his fists, refusing to
rise to the obvious bait being flung in his direction like a worm on a
hook. “You think you’re hurting my feelings, old man? Think again.”
“What? Did you think you could
protect Dean from me? That he needed protecting from his own father?”
“Dean came to my place. I did what I
thought you would want me to do-what you‘ve trained me to do.”
“The hell you did, Caleb!” John
snapped, shoving the boy. “You did what you wanted to do!”
“Fine!” Reaves raged back. “ I did
what needed to be done. And if you really want to know the truth, I
didn’t give a damn what you thought.” It wasn’t true, but damn if the
man couldn’t push his buttons.
John nodded. “Then you’ll understand
that I’m going to do what I need to do.” He pushed Caleb again. “And I
don’t give a damn what you think about it.”
“What?” Caleb growled. “You’re going
to punish him for your fuck up-for your lousy decision-making skills?”
“No!” John met the kid’s amber gaze.
“I’m going to punish him for yours.”
That stopped Caleb’s quick reply and
Mackland had to keep himself from hauling off and knocking some sense
in to John Winchester as he watched the hurt race through his son’s
eyes. It was lucky for all of them the Knight sheathed his sword and
retreated back into the house.
“Son,” Mac started, once they were
alone, but Caleb just shook his head.
“Don’t, Dad.”
“He’s upset, and lashing out in
typical John Winchester fashion.” He couldn’t believe he was making
excuses for the man.
“I made things worse for Dean.”
“This is not your fault.” Mac glanced
towards the farmhouse, wondering for the millionth time if he had done
the right thing in intrusting the care and instruction of his son to
John Winchester and his military style training. “It’s merely a tactic…”
“To make me feel guilty?” Caleb cut
him off, “To put me in my place? Keep me in line?” The boy looked at
him. “I know how the whole Marine logic works, Dad. And believe me, it
works.”
“He would have punished Dean either
way, Son. Whether you like it or not the boy did not use the best
judgment?”
“And John did?” Caleb stared at him.
“So, you’re okay with this?”
Mac exhaled, wearily. “John and I
have different philosophies on parenting…and hunting.”
“Meaning you draw the line at beating
the crap out of kids-even if they might deserve it.”
“He’s not going to hurt Dean.”
Caleb gave him an incredulous look
and he frowned. “You know what I mean.”
“I know a lot of things, Dad. But
apparently, Johnny thinks I still have a whole hell of a lot of things
to learn.”
Mackland squeezed his son’s shoulder,
wishing he could offer some other comfort. “For what it is worth, I‘m
proud of you for taking care of Dean.”
“I told him I had his back.”
“And so you do.”
“Yeah, some help I was.”
“You’re here.” Mac glanced towards
the house again, thinking about his inability to help John at times.
“Sometimes that’s all you can offer.”
Caleb quietly pushed the door open
that separated his room from Dean and Sam’s and slipped inside. “Deuce?
You awake?” He asked, quietly and waited for the kid on the bed to
acknowledge him.
He knew Dean wasn’t asleep, but
wasn’t sure whether the eleven-year-old would talk to him or not. John
had long since gone downstairs and then out to the barn, where Mackland
said he had been sequestering himself under the reuse of working on the
Impala.
“Where’s Sammy?”
“Your dad wouldn’t let him come up
here. In fact he’s said you’re to have no contact until he says so.”
“Is he okay, though? Sammy?”
“Yeah. He’s out cold in front of the
fireplace with Atticus.”
“Will you put him in your room?”
“Sure.” Caleb made his way over to
the bed, taking a seat on the corner. “You hungry?”
“Dad said no supper.”
“Then how about dessert?” Caleb held
out the crumpled bag of peanut M & M’s he’d smuggled from the
kitchen. “I didn’t hear him mention that.”
Dean took the offering with a slight
grin. “Thanks.” He glanced up at the older boy. “Should I pull the file
out first?”
“No file.” Caleb shrugged. “But I’ll
slip the key under the door before I leave tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving already?”
“I have to get back.”
Dean popped a few of the candies in
his mouth, not meeting the other hunter’s gaze. “Dad said I have to go
back to the house tomorrow.”
“Yeah. But if someone were to go on
over there tonight and finish that bitch off, then that would be a mute
point.”
“No.” Dean looked up at him. “You
can’t hunt alone. And the next time would just be worse. He might make
Sammy do it.” The boy was resigned to his fate.
Reaves frowned. “Did John say that?”
Surely the man wouldn’t go that far. Dean already felt responsible for
his brother more than any kid should.
The eleven-year-old shrugged, and
Caleb read his thoughts loud and clear. ‘He didn’t have to.’
“Maybe I could just stick around
then. My classes can wait.”
“You can’t beat up every school yard
bully, you know.”
Reaves shook his head, as those
familiar words came back to bite him in the ass. It hadn’t been too
long ago he’d told Dean the same thing about Sam. “I can try.”
Dean snorted at that, his mouth
twitching in a hint of a smile. “Yeah, well, Dad’s not exactly feeling
the love for you, Damien. He might decide that a backside full of rock
salt would be an appropriate cure for insubordination.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a member
of the John Winchester Fan Club at the moment either.”
“He’s trying to keep us safe.” Dean
glanced at him again. “It’s his job.”
Reaves swallowed thickly as he saw
the first of many little future fissures appear in Dean’s spirit. Later
Reaves would look back on that moment as one of the defining ones in
the soldier Dean was to become. John was determined to break the kid,
good intentions be damned, and the psychic was afraid there wouldn’t be
one thing any of them could do about it.
Caleb reached out and squeezed the
kid’s wrist. “Just so you know that it’s my job to watch your back.” No
matter what John said. Caleb wasn’t sure if it was a Knight thing or
the fact that he’d always felt a kinship with the kid before him, even
when he didn’t want to. But the desire to protect him at all costs was
there and undeniable.
Reaves smiled when Dean rolled his
eyes and pulled away with a familiar cocky grin. “So where were you
when the belt came out?”
Caleb kept his grin in place, despite
the knife-like sensation twisting in his gut. “Mac says a man has to
choose his battles, Deuce. I wouldn’t be much help if I was buried in
the back forty. Besides, you fucked up by taking that bus by yourself.”
Dean sighed. “I know.”
“And you won’t do anything that
stupid again, right?”
The kid grinned. “I can’t promise
that.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because, Damien. It’s my job to keep
you on your toes.”
“You’re far too good at that already.”
“Caleb, thanks for everything.” Dean
put his lips together in a grim line. “Tell Moose thanks, too. I liked
him.” And there was finality because Dean knew he would never see
Reaves’s college friends ever again.
“Call me. I’ll be waiting to hear
from you-Pastor Jim will let you. Okay?”
That call never came. Caleb called
Pastor Jim the next day. The Winchesters had left returning to the road
after Dean had finished off the poltergeist.
“How was he?”
Caleb could hear the pastor sigh on
the other end, imagined him running a hand through his disheveled
silver locks. “Caleb, my boy, he’s John’s son. What else can I tell
you?”
“What does that mean?”
“Dean followed his father’s orders.”
Just like a good little soldier.
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