tw: suicide attempt, depression, self harm mention, neglect, mild language

words: 4,223

notes: This is so late and I am so sorry. Also, I know canonically Dean met Cassie in Ohio and it was several years later than this, but I decided to make it this way because I wanted to. It's an AU and I can do what I want. *cough* Anyway. Here's the part.

Caleb rode along with the boys on their trip into town, joining forces with Dean to relentlessly tease Sam about the girlfriend he was buying a Christmas present for. And Dean played the part well... said all the right things, made all the right jabs. Too bad his eyes were still full of more pain that Caleb would ever want him to bear, and his smiles, no matter how convincing, were either weak or fake or both.

They got it shipped back to Cape Girardeau, the Missouri town the boys had apparently been staying in, before heading back to the farm. They watched a hockey game and played some more poker. Caleb and Dean checked around for local cases again, but came up with nothing.

The entire afternoon and evening, Dean avoided being alone with Caleb like the devil.

And it hurt. No matter how true it was that worry was the overpowering emotion as he watched his little brother spiral, the way he was pushing him away still stung. He'd been there for him through so much, and he just didn't understand why he still felt the need to play this game.

Finally, Dean said he had Christmas things to do and retreated up to his father's room, which he'd relocated to since the eldest Winchester wasn't going to show. Caleb gave him about twenty minutes of solitude before giving in to the gnawing worry in his stomach and following him that way.

He tapped on the door and waited, not wanting to barge in and ruin a surprise if the kid was actually wrapping presents.

There was a hesitation that was just a little too long. Then, "Who is it?"

"Your favorite problem in the whole world."

"Go away. I have your present in here."

"You've got twenty seconds to hide it."

"Damien..."

"Nineteen. Eighteen."

He was rewarded by a groan and a shuffling inside as the younger hunter obviously realized he wasn't going to win this. Caleb waited while his watch counted off the remaining time before finally pushing his way inside.

"Ready or not."

He was greeted by the nineteen-year-old's hard glare. "What do you want?"

Caleb shook his head a little as he closed the door behind him. "A little less attitude would be a great place to start."

"There's no attitude downstairs."

The older man chuckled a little. "Your kid brother's downstairs. The hell there isn't."

Dean rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seriously. What do you want? I'm busy."

"Yeah, I can see that." Caleb frowned as he looked over the small mess on the floor.

Several bags of coffee, no doubt Jim's favorite, which you could only get in Branson, Missouri. Seeing as the artsy little tourist town wasn't exactly a hotbed for supernatural activity, Dean had most likely made a special trip. Several inches away, a bottle of Branson whiskey... Dean putting his fake IDs to fantastic use... which would no doubt be for Mac. But it was the box beside that, that caught his eye.

"Is that a laptop computer?"

"Oh." Dean looked away. "Yeah. One of Sammy's friends got one, and he hasn't shut up about it since."

"I don't think I wanna know where you got the money for that."

"I told you, Reaves, I got a job. Most of it came from that."

"Yeah, most of it," Caleb sighed. "We would have gone in on it with you if you'd asked."

Dean scoffed a little. "You kidding? Dad would kill me."

Christmas or not, John Winchester had strong feelings about anything that resembled charity.

"Yeah." The psychic exhaled agan. "I know."

There was a long moment of silence as Caleb looked over the gifts and wrapping paper again. This time, his eye was caught by a small stack of Christmas cards, the top one open to reveal the entire blank half filled with writing.

Benign as it seemed, the sight made him sick.

"You take up poetry or something?" he asked mildly.

Dean followed his gaze and paled. "What? No." He snatched up the stack and shoved them to join the lump under the bed's comforter that was no doubt Caleb's gift. "It's just a Christmas card."

"When have you ever written Christmas cards?" Caleb rebuffed. "Much less with freakin' novels inside of them."

"Never, but maybe people change."

"I'm not sure my Deuce writing Christmas cards is a change I wanna see."

"Great, I just won't write you one."

Caleb matched the younger man's pose, folding his own arms over his chest, and gave him a hard look. "Out with it. Now."

"Oh my... out with what?"

"Whatever's going on with you! You're a terrible liar and you're just getting worse!"

"I swear to God you are such a girl!" Dean turned around and paced several steps away to stare out the window behind him. "I'm fine!"

Caleb followed him and forcefully turned him back around by his shoulder, his worry coming out as real frustration. "No, you're not! You think I don't know you well enough to know that?"

Dean shoved him away hard. "Just leave me alone! I'm not some broken plate that needs you to come in and fix me!"

The desperate look in his green eyes made Caleb's voice soften. "I don't think you're broken, Kiddo," he said more gently. "I think you're a human being. And us human beings need each other on this God-forsaken rock."

"I don't."

He was staring at the floor as he said it.

"You really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Yeah? Cuz Johnny's not here, but I could swear I just heard him talk."

"Would you shut up about my dad, Caleb?" The words came out a soft shout, fiery without carrying to the people downstairs.

"No, I won't," the psychic told him evenly. "Cuz you need to stop shutting up about him and actually talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it!" The fierceness on his face was at least fifty-percent an intense effort not to cry. "I'm sick of you reminding me!"

"Reminding you of what, Deuce?" he pressed. "Of the fact that you stood up for your brother and got reemed and abandoned for it? I'm not gonna stand by and let you hate yourself for the crap he said and did while drunk!"

"Yeah, who told you that story? Sam? Totally objective point of view there!" That effort not to cry was clearly breaking down more by the second. "Just get out, Caleb! I don't want to talk about this! I don't want to talk to you!"

The older man hesitated for a long moment. He wanted to respect his friend as the adult he was, but the sick worry eating at him was increasing by the second.

"Fine," he said finally, the word coming out soft. "But you know where to find me."

"Yeah. Yeah whatever. Just get out."

Caleb obeyed with a heavy sigh. Yet again, the words stung. A lot. But that pain waned in comparison to what he felt looking into that kid's eyes.

Once again, Caleb waited until he was sure Dean was asleep before allowing himself to follow suit. But around two in the morning, he found himself with eyes wide open to the same feeling he'd gotten when he first hugged Dean in the kitchen.

The mental equivalent to a brick wall. To something being flung against the other side of that brick wall. Hard.

He swore violently at the realization, tripping out of bed faster than his legs remembered how to work.

"I swear to God, Deuce if you're doing something stupid..." He jerked his discarded hoodie from the past day over his head as he stumbled to the door and out into the hall. Across the hall at the door to what was usually John's room, he hesitated only a second to take a deep breath and try to steady his panic.

Then, he tapped knuckles against wood. "Deuce?"

No answer. So they were gonna play the pretending to be asleep with a psychic game.

He knocked again. "Deuce, I know you're awake."

Still nothing. He tried the knob. Locked.

It was taking more and more effort not to panic.

He knocked a third time. "Deuce, come on, I need you to let me in."

Still no answer. Fine. This was fine. He'd kick it in if necessary, but since all the doors in the house, inside and out, took the same key, it wouldn't be.

"Alright, Deuce, you gotta hang tight for a minute," he said through the door. "I'll be right back."

Then, he turned and leapt back to his own bedroom, slamming the lightswitch upwards and diving for the keys on his nightstand.

He shouldn't have left the kid alone. He should've... he should've... he didn't know, but not this.

Keys in hand, he sprinted back across the hall, shoved the correct one into the lock, turned, and pushed.

And found his best friend on the floor with knees pulled to his chest and an unmistakable shape pressed against his chin.

Caleb swallowed down a fresh wave of sickness and panic as his heart dropped in his chest.

"Alright, Kiddo," he managed, keeping his voice steady with an effort. "Whatcha doing?"

"Go away."

The words were raw and choked with tears.

"Yeah, that's gonna work."

He took a step forward, but froze as the gun was pressed a little harder into the younger man's chin and dropped down to his level instead.

"Look at me."

Seemingly against his own will, Dean's head lifted slightly, his eyes coming up to Caleb's.

"I know this seems like the answer right now, Deuce," he said gently. "But trust me, it's not. And we're gonna talk about that... we're gonna talk about everything. But first, I need you to give me that gun."

"I've thought this through, Damien," came the gravelly reply. "I'm sorry, but I know what I've gotta do."

"You think you do," he confirmed softly. "Cuz you're in a whole lotta pain right now, and you're too young to know it's gonna get better."

"This isn't about me."

"No?" At least he was talking. "Who's it about?"

"Sammy."

"Sammy?" Not the family member he'd been expecting. "Offing the person he loves and needs most in the world's a bit of a screwed up Christmas present, Man."

"He doesn't need me. He needs Dad." A hesitation, but Caleb could feel more coming. "And if I'm gone, Dad'll come back."

There it was. At least, there was the rationalization, the way he was allowing himself to give into the temptation he'd probably fought back for a long time with, I can't do that to Sammy.

"If he needed your dad, he'd have been screwed over a long time ago. It's a messed up lot he's been given, but you're the reason he's okay, and you're the reason he's gonna be okay." He paused, then went on, "And I think you know your dad better than that, Deuce." He inched a bit closer as he said it. "He'd come back for the funeral, then leave Sammy here. Say it was for his own sake. Get that much more obsessed with his quest. You know that. Deep down, you know that."

"He left because of me, Damien." The words were accompanied by a choked sob.

"No, he left because he was drunk. And because he's an obsessed bastard. Alright? You've gotta stop carrying around what he does, Man. You've got to." He hesitated, inched a little closer once more, then went on. "And that's not all that's going on. I know that and so do you."

Only silence replied for a long moment, then another. Caleb crept forward again. More quiet.

Then, barely audible, choked with tears and full of so much pain it tore Caleb's heart out, "I can't do this anymore."

"I know."

He was close enough. Heart pounding, he reached out, slid the safety into place, and pulled the gun out of the younger boy's hands.

"I know."

He shoved the weapon as hard as he could across the room, then wrapped both of his shaking arms around the Dean's likewise trembling body.

The teenager collapsed into him with a sob that wracked his entire body, returning the hug like a scared little kid.

"You don't have to do it anymore," Caleb went on, unable to mask the moisture from his own voice as he held him that much tighter. "Not like you have been. I'm here now. I've got you."

Dean was crying too hard to answer, and Caleb didn't expect him to. He just pulled him closer still, pressed his eyes closed, and tried not to break down.

He could feel Dean's mental block weakening, feel the younger man struggling to keep it in place.

"Just let it go, Man," he murmured. "Just let it go."

A pause, a last hold-out, and then Caleb gasped as the full weight of the kid's emotions hit him in a wave. He took a deep, shuddering breath, but nodded.

"Yeah. Just like that. You're okay." He fought a fresh onslaught of tears and choked out, "God, Kiddo, why didn't you call me?"

They stayed like that until the younger man's sobs had subsided. Caleb almost thought he was going to fall asleep, but then he pulled away, taking knees to chest once more and wrapping both arms around them.

"I'm sorry."

Caleb exhaled heavily, his heart breaking all over again as he felt the shame rolling off of his best friend. "You don't have to be sorry, Deuce," he said softly. "Just... don't you ever do that again. Okay? Never again."

Dean's head dropped, his eyes squeezing shut, as he repeated in an utterly broken voice, "I'm sorry."

The psychic sighed again, but didn't press the issue, asking instead, "Now what's going on? I want you to start from the beginning, and I want you to tell me everything."

Eyes still closed, the teen shook his head desperately. "Damien, I... I don't think... I..."

"Okay," Caleb replied quickly, cursing himself as he realized he'd overwhelmed the younger man. "It's okay. Just... how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Define thinking about."

"Give me two. Wishing you could, and actually considering and planning it."

"Since I was twelve. Since Dad left."

"Since you were... Deuce, I thought you knew I had your sixth."

Dean sighed heavily. "I do. Okay? I just... it wasn't a big deal. I was never actually gonna... it was just something I thought about sometimes."

The words were a painfully familiar echo of his own thought process at multiple stages in his life. "I get that, Deuce," he said gently. "I've been there. But you've gotta talk to someone then before it gets worse. Before... this happens."

"Just because you got the gun away from me doesn't mean I wasn't right."

"Right about what? It being the best thing for Sammy? Come on, Kid, you're smarter than that."

"He needs Dad. Okay? You said it yourself. Leaving hurt him really bad. He needs him to come back."

"He needs a dad. Just like he needs a mom. And you know what he's had his entire life? Both. Because he's had you, and you've been playing both parents since you were freaking four years old. It sucks, Man, it does. You're never gonna be able to give him the white picket fence and perfect little family his friends have. But you're the one with the real short end of the stick, because you've had to do something no kid should have to. But if it's Sammy you're worried about, your dad can only hurt him so much as long as he has you."

There was a long moment of silence, before Caleb let out a long breath.

"But I'm not gonna tell you to live for Sam. That's not fair. None of it is. I need you to live for you. Cuz you're worth it, and I swear to you the hell in your head is gonna get better."

"It's not exactly a new problem, Damien," the boy replied, his voice soft and broken. "And it hasn't exactly been improving."

"I know, Deuce." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for several seconds before asking, "But what would you have missed if you'd done it way back when you first thought you'd like to?"

"You mean when I was twelve?"

"Yeah."

There was a long hesitation. "Sammy won that Spelling Bee when he was nine. I'll never forget the grin on his face."

Caleb couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "He was a nerdy little legend. And that's good. What else?"

"That Sox game you took me to where they took the lead with a grand slam in the ninth."

"Your birthday present. Yeah. That was a great time, Man."

"Yeah. It was." Another pause. "Remember when you fell down that escalator in Denver right in front of a group of sorority girls?"

The older hunter laughed for real this time. "You are such a jerk. But I'll fall on my face anytime if it gives you a reason to stick around."

"I'm gonna take you up on that."

"Yeah, I bet you will. What else?"

The teen bit his lip, considering it again. "I've been teaching Sammy to drive."

"Hey, Man, we're talking about reasons not to do it, not vice versa."

And it was Dean's turn to let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, Dude, he's awful. Scares the crap outta me. But, uh... he's pretty adorable too."

"You're such a girl."

"You started this chick-flick."

"Touche. One more."

This hesitation was longer than the others, but once again, Caleb could feel the answer coming. It did at last, though barely audible.

"I never woulda met Cassie."

That peaked his interest. "Dude. Who's Cassie?"

"This girl in Cape Girardeau. In college to be a reporter."

"She hot?"

"Dude."

Caleb grinned. "That's my man."

"But she's more than hot. Like... she's a genius, and she... she's so soft, but she's so freakin' fierce, Man. She knows how to get to me. Or... she knew."

The smile faded from the older man's face. "What happened?"

Dean exhaled slowly. "She had this formal that was really important to her. Asked me to go. Then Dad called with an urgent hunt he needed me to take. We'd been seeing each other for a few months and I was feeling like an idiot, so I... told her the truth. And she told me to get out."

Caleb could feel the heartbreak rolling off the kid. "Man. I'm sorry, Deuce."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Sammy know?"

"Nah."

"But you don't regret it?"

"Nah, Man. I don't."

"How about not ending it when you were twelve?"

A hesitation. "No."

"What about tonight?"

This pause was longer. Then finally, "I don't know, Damien."

Caleb nodded a little. It wasn't the answer he was hoping for, but it was honest. "Okay. So what about the future? What would you miss if you had?"

The younger man thought about it for another long moment. "Sammy's face when he opens that computer."

"Yeah. And let me tell you, he wouldn't have given it a second look if it came without you alive to give it."

A heavy sigh. "Yeah."

"Yeah. What else?"

"Sammy graduating."

"You'll be the only reason he does. Now something not related to Sam."

That took a while. "The Sox winning another World Series."

"Dude. Eighty years. It's gotta be their time soon."

"Gotta be." Only a few seconds of silence this time. "Getting legally slammed with you when I turn twenty-one."

"I've been planning it since you were thirteen, so you better not check out before it happens. One more."

A different kind of hesitation this time. Then, timidly, "Cassie got me thinking. That maybe I might... want a family some day. I don't know. I know that's stupid."

Caleb reached up and squeezed the kid's shoulder. "That's not stupid, Deuce. You're gonna make a helluva dad. And I'm gonna be the crazy uncle and love every minute of it."

The tinge of a smile found Dean's face. "You better be." His eyes dropped, then his voice came out ashamed and hesitant. "Thanks for saving my life, Damien."

"Hey, Man, that's what I'm here for." He tightened his grip on his shoulder. "But next time, you're not gonna let it get this bad. I'm gonna get you through this round, and then when it comes back cuz life sucks and it probably will, you're gonna pick up your phone and call me. Yeah?"

Dean's eyes were still on the floor, but he nodded a little. "Yeah. I'll try."

"Good."

They sat there for several minutes, not saying anything, before Dean's voice came out again, choked with a fresh round of tears, matched by a fresh wave of shame-filled regret that his plan hadn't worked out.

"What's wrong with me, Damien?"

Caleb exhaled slowly. "Nothing, Deuce. There's a whole lot wrong with a whole lot of things about this crappy planet and your crappy life, but none of them are you."

"But you've had a worse life than I have," he argued desperately. "And you don't... You don't..." His eyes snapped shut as more water rolled out of them.

Caleb's forehead creased in genuine confusion as he looked over at him. "Dude. I thought you knew."

"Knew what?" Those green eyes opened again, painfully young and confused.

"You were like eight. You and Sam were staying here and my dad and I came out to visit. You caught me in the kitchen staring at a gun. I fed you some crap about cleaning it, but you knew that was a lie and told my dad. He went and talked to me, and the next day I promised you I'd be okay."

Remembrance and realization dawned in the younger man's gaze before it dropped away from Caleb's. "I... I thought... I don't know."

The psychic offered him a painful smile. "We don't compare our freakin' trauma cause life doesn't work like that," he said plainly. "But when it comes to our screwed up heads? I can match you all the way, Deuce."

The teen continued to stare at the floor before asking quietly, "Were you... were you really gonna..."

"Not right then," he sighed. "I was still in the, I know I can't, but God, I want to phase. But if Dad hadn't of stepped it, I guarantee a time would've come." He hesitated before adding, "You saved my life, Kiddo. Tonight I just repaid the favor."

"So does that mean you're gonna tell my dad?" It was half-joking, but there was actual apprehension in the boy's eyes.

"Nah, Man." He let out a rye laugh. "For your dad's own safety, I'm not gonna be telling him anything for a good, long while."

Dean managed just a hint of a smile at that.

"But we are gonna tell mine," Caleb added after a few seconds. "Together. He's great at this stuff, and he's gonna know how to help you just like he did me."

Dean's face tightened, anxiety rolling off of him immediately. "Damien..."

"I'll be right there with you, Deuce," he reassured quickly. "You don't have to do any of this alone. And we can worry about all of that tomorrow."

The kid swallowed hard, those broken green eyes pleading into his. "You're not gonna leave, are you?"

Caleb laughed a little. "In your dreams. You're stuck with me tonight, Kiddo."

"Oh. Okay." He seemed to think about that for a moment before asking, "Then can we go see if anyone's playing game reruns or something?"

"Yeah, Dude." The older man got to his feet and offered his friend a hand to do the same. "This whole sitting in the dark thing's getting kinda weird."

Dean took the offered hand, and together, they descended the stairs into the living room. It wasn't until they'd clicked the TV on and its light was falling across the darkness of the space that Caleb noticed the three fresh cuts running across the teenager's forearm.

He didn't have to be told how they'd gotten there.

Obviously, Deuce had needed a warm-up round before putting a bullet in his mouth.

He swallowed back a lump of emotion as he looked at them. "Guess I didn't save you from doing a number on yourself after all."

Dean followed his gaze and before panicked and shame-filled remembrance washed over his face and he was hurriedly tucking the arm against his chest.

"'s fine."

"No, it's not," the older man sighed heavily as he turned towards the bathroom. "But it will be once I clean it up."

He returned a minute later with a wet rag, a towel, some rubbing alcohol, and a box of bandages in hand. Dean was obviously flipping through the tv stations, and had hesitated to take in the week's forecast on the news.

"Early risers are in for a treat in a couple of hours," the weatherman was saying, "As today's sunrise is supposed to be one of the best of the year."

Caleb's chest throbbed a little at the words, and he offered his best friend another painful smile. "You hear that, Deuce? It's gonna be a beautiful morning."

I'm thinking about writing a final, epilogue-style part, maybe bring in telling Mac and the notes Dean was writing, but idk. Let me know if you'd like to see that, or if you think I should leave it alone. And please let me know what you think. Happy New Year! God bless, love you guys.

- Line