Heroes-Revisited

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

Beta & contributor: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

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Chapter 2/13

“Real heroes are men who fall and fail and are flawed, but win out in the end
because they've stayed true to their ideals and beliefs and commitments.”
--Kevin Costner

On a positive note John Winchester wasn't drunk as Taylor had feared. He seemed insanely alert and focused for the ungodly hour of 3:45 A.M., which gave the teacher another reason not to trust him.

Physically, Sam's dad was an imposing man. He was taller than Taylor's own six foot stature with shoulders and arms that spoke of either hard manual labor or hours at the gym. Taylor guessed it was the former.

His youngest son had inherited his father's dark, soulful eyes and Taylor imagined if John Winchester were to smile, it would also be similar.

Something about the way he carried himself was familiar from the time or two Taylor had spoken with Dean. The younger man had a laid back demeanor, but his father strummed with barely contained tension. He had an air of definite authority. Taylor found himself curious about what the man did for a living.

"I'm sorry about all this." Winchester's voice was deep and serious. Taylor found himself flinching as the man laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "He's not used to staying away from home."

Sam didn’t blink, so Taylor tried to push away his suspicions of abuse. "No problem." The teacher stood straighter to feel professional, or at least look like an adult in his sleep garb. "Sam's a good kid."

"He is." John nodded. "Minus the stubborn streak."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dad-this is Mr. Taylor. He teaches math."

John removed his hand from his son's shoulder and extended it in the younger man's direction. "John Winchester."

"It's good to finally meet you." Taylor returned the firm shake, and made sure not to wince. He knew better than to show any weakness while facing a pack of hormone driven teens, it was the same with parents. He wondered if he could somehow slip the fact he'd played college ball into the conversation without looking like he was trying too hard. "I just hate it has to be in the middle of nowhere on vampire time, no less."

John gave his son a confused glance before looking back at Taylor.

The teacher grinned sheepishly. "We've had our share of ghost stories these last couple of days," Taylor explained as the man continued to look at him as if trying to decide if his son was getting the proper education. Apparently, Sam had gotten his sense of humor from his father.

"I see." John nodded, his hand returning to Sam's shoulder and giving it a marginal squeeze.

Sam licked his lips and shot Taylor a somewhat nervous glance. "I've got all my things, Dad."

The big man looked down at his son once more, then to Taylor. "We'll be going then." John ran his eyes up and down the other man, appraisingly, "so you can get back to sleep."

"Not much chance of that. I have to stand guard." Taylor attempted to appear very serious. "Panty raid got out of hand last night. There's potential for a revenge attack-real possibility of a bloodbath."

John rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Teenage girls are pretty scary."

"Yeah." Taylor forced a smile, unsure if he actually heard the condescension. "I have the scars to prove that."

When both Sam and his dad frowned, Taylor rushed on. "So-guess I'll see you at school on Monday, Sam. Make sure you study for that quiz."

"Okay." Sam turned, walked towards the door followed by his father, but stopped when Mr. Taylor called out to him.

"I hope things are okay with Dean."

Sam could feel his father's gaze on him. He faced Mr. Taylor and nodded. "Me too."

John surprised his son by not asking what he'd told the teacher about Dean. And Sam was not ready to engage in conversation with his father. The walk to the truck was silent. Only the sounds of the crickets and other nocturnal stirrings provided a backdrop to the steady breathing of the two Winchesters maneuvering down the dirt path.

Sam didn't hesitate once he caught sight of his father's black Chevy truck. He picked up speed and tossed his bags in the bed. The passenger door suddenly opened and the tall, lanky form of Caleb Reaves stepped out, motioning for Sam to get in.

"Sammy," Caleb said softly as the boy glared at him, before sliding across the leather bench seat.

Caleb Reaves had always protected the boys, or tried too. The long haired hunter had been a presence in their lives since Sam could remember. His first memories of Caleb were at Pastor Jim's farm where the young hunter would draw him pictures of mythical animals and play with both brothers. The Winchesters watched as Caleb grew into his strong psychic abilities and into a fearless hunter of The Brotherhood. John was a mentor to him, so Caleb spent many long summers and holidays training with the boys. Both Sam and Dean looked up to him, although Dean would be pressed to admit it. Dean and Caleb had issues with revealing their emotions instead calling each other Deuce and Damien, respectively. But Sam never doubted that Caleb had his brother’s back- he would do anything to keep Dean safe. "Where the hell were you, Caleb?"

"Sam," John warned. He had already loaded an unfair share of blame on the younger hunter’s shoulders.

"What?" Caleb turned to look at the teen as he joined him in the truck and slammed the door.

Sam ignored his father's warning tone, focusing on Caleb instead. "I said where were you? You're his best friend. You’re supposed to cover him. He doesn't have a ring and you do! So where the hell were you when my brother was being dragged off by that thing?" Sam was angry, and wanted to lash out at someone. Caleb was the perfect patsy.

Caleb opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. His gold eyes met Sam's brown ones and the thirteen-year-old could see the psychic was feeling guilty. "It happened fast, Sammy. One minute he was there, and the next. . .I promise we'll get him back, Runt."

Sam shook his head. "You promised to watch his back too. He trusted you." I trusted you.

"I was watching Deuce's back! You know better than that Sam." Caleb took a deep breath and shoved his hands through his long, black hair hanging loose around his shoulders instead of being in its usual neat pony tail. Reaves knew he had failed the seventeen year old. He would make it right. He tried to reason with the youngest Winchester and used a hint of humor. "You know your brother; he thinks a plan is only a suggestion. He just took off."

"Don't talk about my brother!" Sam shouted, clenching his fists. Sam knew his brother was always trying to be a hero so he wouldn’t risk anyone that mattered to him. But he was still Sam's big brother, and nobody was going to talk badly about him, even if what they were saying was a little bit true. Not even Caleb. "This isn't his fault!"

"It's not Caleb's fault either, Sammy," John said softly, bringing twin gazes to his silhouetted profile. "I screwed up. All right?"

Sam redirected his focus. "How could you let that thing take him, Dad?" Sam felt his voice break. "You know what raw heads do."

John glanced at his son, and then met Caleb's gaze over the boy. "I know, son. We'll get him back. I promise."

At that moment promises meant nothing to Sam. Especially ones made by his father. He sent an accusing glare towards Caleb again. "Yeah, because you two have had so much luck catching it before now."

Caleb sighed. It was taking longer than usual. His architectural company TriCorp had been working in the area on a bridge project when he first heard the rumors about the forest. It wasn’t long before his psychic abilities clued him in with a couple of horrific visions that left him desperate to find the creature.

John had given some initial seed money into the company, and since it was a longer contract he asked the older Winchester to work for him. The lure of a good hunt persuaded John and allowed Caleb to provide his mentor with a steady paycheck and stable situation for the boys without stepping on any toes.

Caleb had been spending quite a bit of time with the Winchesters, and right now he missed Dean. Dean was always able to make things right with Sam-a feat that had been made incredibly difficult for anyone else since Sam hit puberty. Still, Dean would be pissed if he didn’t try. "I'm sorry." Reaves placed an arm tentatively around Sam's shoulder.

Caleb was surprised it wasn't brushed off by the teen. "Johnny said that you had a dream. Can you tell us about it?"

John was watching the road, but Sam knew from his expression he was waiting for a reply.

"It was just a nightmare."

John glanced at him. "You wouldn't be here if that were true."

Sam closed his eyes, feeling a slight twinge of a building headache as he recalled the mosaic images of the dream. "I was in the woods. Running. And then I was in a big cave of some sorts."

"Cave?" Caleb interrupted and Sam blinked. "That makes sense, seeing as how we haven't come up with anything in those abandoned houses or at any of the hiking shelters."

"Go on, Sam," John encouraged.

The teen didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried that his father was taking his nightmare seriously, but he continued on. "Like I said, I was in a cave, and then I fell -like through the ground."

"So, there was a cave, and then you fell through an opening. And there were kids there?" Caleb's psychic visions came from the perspective of the evil being. He had seen the two boys in cages, but was unable to comprehend a location for them.

"Yeah.” Sam held Caleb’s gaze. “I saw at least two. Boys."

"The Patterson boys." Caleb offered, sincerely.

John nodded, keeping watch for the road sign he was searching for.

Sam was surprised the two men were interpreting his dream so literally. After all, dreams weren't real. A part of Sam still believed the nightmare had more to do with his and Dean's recent fight, instead of his brother's disappearance. "Dad, my dream might not mean anything."

Caleb squeezed the young man's shoulder.

"You said your brother was hurt?" John took his eyes off the road long enough to see the color drain from his son's face. "We found your brother's shirt. There was blood on it and we also found his gun."

Sam couldn't help the tremor that shook his body as if a shadow had crossed his grave. "How much blood?"

"Enough."

"Johnny," Caleb warned. John vacillated between keeping too much from Sam to revealing more than necessary. Winchester’s lifestyle didn’t provide much safe common ground. "He's fine, Sam." Reaves didn't admit to the teen he had seen glimpses of Dean chained to a wall, obviously injured. He had shared the information with John and that was hard enough. "Yourdream might be some kind of communication, like we used to do when you were a kid."

"It was different than most of my dreams, " Sam admitted.

“Different how?" Reaves asked. His adopted father, Mackland Ames, had helped him with his abilities when they first became active. Caleb had been Sam’s age. The renowned neurosurgeon believed Sam also had psychic tendencies, and wanted to help the young boy. Even Caleb could sense Sam’s potential, but John wouldn't allow it. And Mackland deferred to John, his friend and brother in arms.

"Like I was watching it from outside my body, even though I was there." Sam frowned. "Your visions are like that. Like a movie."

"Yeah, they are, Sam." Caleb forced a smile, and purposefully did not glance at his mentor.

"Finish telling us the dream, Sammy," John interrupted the conversation between Sam and Caleb.

"Dean was there, near the cages. But he was chained to a wall."

"Black, shiny?" Reaves questioned further.

Sam didn't really see why that was important, but he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to remember. The walls had been made of some kind of rock. "Rocky. Big, grayish, black rocks."

"That's what I've seen." Caleb looked at John, knowing his mentor was probably freaked out by the idea of his youngest son seeing the same things the older psychic had. "I thought it was coal. An old mine shaft. There're a lot of them around this area."

John shook his head. "We ruled that out because of size. You know damn well most of those shafts are small, even for a regular-sized man. My grandfather worked those mines for awhile. It's like living under your kitchen table. A raw head would never choose that for a lair."

"Yeah, but Sam said he fell through a hole. The old raw head might have found one of the underground caverns."

"There was wood lying around my feet." Sam said suddenly as he recalled looking down at his uncooperative legs when they had failed him in the dream. "Planks, I think."

Caleb nodded. "Some of those old mines open up to big tunnels, even have rivers running through them. Just think, if you wanted to hide somewhere no one would expect you, where would you hide, Johnny boy?"

"In a church," Sam answered for his father.

Caleb laughed out loud. "Perfect if it were built on top of a bar."

"While you guys are waiting to take this little comedy act of yours on the road, could we get back to the subject?" John growled, finally pulling them onto the main highway, after what seemed like miles of back roads. "Like how to find Dean?"

"There was a tunnel," Sam added, focusing once more. "The raw head was coming through it. And I heard something like rumbling, or growling. I thought it was a monster, but it could have been flowing water."

"You got more than I got, Sam. I'm only catches glimpses." Caleb pointed out, rubbing Sam's back before removing his hand. "You did good, Runt."

"Was your brother awake?"

Sam's small smile fell as he realized what his father was really asking. "He was alive, Dad. He talked to me."

"Talked to you?" Caleb frowned.

Sam looked at the other man, the sharp angles and lines of his almost perfect face making him look frightening in the dark cab of the truck. "Dean knew I was there. It was like he felt me. "

Caleb scrutinized the teen.

"What? Is that a bad thing?"

Reaves shook his head. "Remember when we were kids and we won at cards?"

Sam nodded. "By cheating because you would send messages to us-psychically."

The twenty-five year old wanted to explain in easy terms to not worry Sam. "You were kids, so you were more open. With Dean, now, it could mean that your brother is very perceptive, sensitive to such things, or he's unconscious."

"Excuse me?" Sam croaked. "Dean was awake. He was hurt, but he didn't look so bad." The words seemed hollow to Sam. Dean had been bleeding. The wound on his head had scared Sam.

"He'll be okay." Caleb squeezed Sam's arm. "We'll find him."

"We can check the maps back at the apartment for any mines in the location where we were hunting tonight." John glanced at Caleb. "We need to drop Sam there anyway."

"What?" Sam turned in his seat. "I'm not staying at the apartment."

"Yes, you are, Samuel."

"I'm going with you to find Dean."

"Damn it!" John shouted. "You will listen to me. I'm not asking you, Sam! I'm giving you…"

"An order?" Sam cut him off, now yelling, "Screw your orders!"

John slammed on the brakes, skidding the truck into the emergency lane, causing both Caleb and Sam to bring their arms out to brace themselves against the dash. John turned, shoved the gear shifter into park, and reached for Sam in one continuous, fluid move. He had his hands wrapped in the teen's jacket before Sam even knew what was happening. "Watch you mouth!" John gave his son a hard shake. "I'm still your father, goddamnit!"

Caleb grabbed John's hands and peeled them off his son's jacket. "Calm down, John." He gave the older man a slight shove to let go. Once John had backed down he wrapped an arm around Sam to protect him.

Sam felt his heart pick up and he was smart enough to be afraid, but the desire to help his brother sliced through his common sense. "I'm going," he said, and cursed the slight tremble in his voice. "With or without you."

"Don't you dare threaten me, son. I let that bullshit slide once, Samuel. I won't do it again."

"I don't care what you do to me," Sam lied, never having been on the receiving end of his father's physical strength. Dean had always protected him from that, among the other countless things. "I'm going to find my brother."

"Sam, Dean wouldn’t want that. He wants you to stay safe." Caleb pointed out.

"But I have a connection to Dean that you don't right now. You need me." Sam was not going to stand down.

"No! You will not go after your brother!" John continued to look at Sam, ignoring Caleb's glare. "You will stay at the apartment, even if I have to cuff you to your fucking bed. I can't lose you too, Sammy! Damn it! Don't you understand?"

"Winchester!" Caleb opened the door. "We're taking a breather here." Reaves escorted Sam out of the cab while John fumed in the truck.

"I have to help you find Dean, Caleb. Please." He swallowed hard.

Caleb knelt in front of him. “Sammy…your brother would kill me if I let something happen to you. “

“What if I’m your only chance?”

Reaves felt his gut twist. He wanted to find Dean. Desperately needed to know that the kid was alright. His own connection to Dean should have been enough, but nothing about this gig had gone smoothly. Not only couldn’t he track the raw, he couldn’t even locate Dean. “We’ll find another way.”

Sam sighed in frustration, pulling away from Reaves. He turned to the truck. "I let him down, Dad. I need to make it up to him."

John nodded and moved down the bench seat. He placed a gentle hand against his son's cheek. "I let him down too, Sammy," John whispered into his youngest son's hair. I let both of you down. "We'll just have to be more careful about that in the future. Won't we?" John stressed the 'we' part.

Sam clearly understood his father was aware the thirteen year old had been a brat towards his brother, and it had been completely uncalled for. "Yes, sir." Sam nodded, contrite and remorseful.

"If you two are done, I think Deuce would like to be rescued." Caleb had crossed his arms, unsure of what to make of John’s change of heart.

Sam scampered into the cab.

"And Runt, you better listen to me on this hunt."

John and Sam exchanged a look. "Damn, he's bossy. You'll remember you're junior hunter, Reaves."

Caleb cleared his throat, glanced away, and pushed some of his straight, black hair behind his ear. He enjoyed the moment of levity, but he still felt guilty. "I'm sorry that I lost track of Dean. I know you trusted me, Sammy."

"I do trust you, Caleb." Sam forgave the older man. This was Caleb Reaves who would do anything for the Winchesters.

"He's alive. I can feel it." Caleb would know if the seventeen year old had died. "And we'll find him. He's stubborn."

"Dean's a fighter." Sam agreed.

"Yeah, and I owe him ten dollars from our last game of pool." Caleb's devilish grin appeared again, his white teeth flashing even in the dark cab. "He won't let that go."

"I owe him something, too," Sam said, seriously.

Caleb tilted his head, trying to catch the younger boy's gaze. "Yeah? What's that?"

Sam stared past the other man, out into the darkness beyond the passenger window. He swallowed hard. "An apology." The teen blinked a couple of times before finally meeting the older hunter's eyes. "I owe him a very big apology."

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