febuwhump 2k22

day 2- failed rescue attempt

whumpee: Dean Winchester

caretaker: Caleb Reaves

other characters: Sam Winchester (mentioned), John Winchester (mentioned), Mackland Ames

tw: self harm, suicide attempt, mentioned abuse, depression, panic attack

word count: 801

notes: please keep in mind that this isn't the last part and don't kill me. i'm sorry.

Caleb wasn't exactly asleep, but he wasn't really awake either. He'd just gotten back to Mac's place in New York after a hunt with Bobby. Standard ghost, easy hunt, but a nasty thing and they'd both walked away bruised and beat up. He hadn't been the senior hunter on a job since the Flag Staff incident, but that was fine. Since he was still banned from darkening Winchester doors, his main junior hunting partner wasn't an option anyway.

He needed to get up, shower, and answer a long list of Tricorp emails he'd been ignoring for several days before getting dinner with his father, but he just wanted to lay here and not move because if he didn't move maybe he'd forget the way his body was aching.

A stab of pain behind his eyes found him flying upright in bed as an uneven cry of pain was torn from his lips. He registered a moment after it was gone the image which had accompanied the pain, dark and blurry as it was. Of Dean with a knife in his hand and blood running off his arm.

He swore violently and grappled for his phone with the hand that wasn't holding his head.

Forced his eyes open to find the kid's name and waited, heart pounding in his ears. Unavailable.

He swore again, a second away from panicking entirely, and called a second time. It was ringing this time.

And ringing.

"Deuce, I swear to God..." he muttered, getting to his feet and beginning to pace.

"I'm sorry."

He froze at the tiny voice which reached him from the other line.

It was clear Dean had been crying. A lot.

He didn't know if it was his psychic intuition or just his brotherly one that told him something was very, very wrong. That something terrible was about to happen.

"Hey, what are you sorry for, Kiddo?" he asked, his voice shaky. "You okay? You hurt?"

"I'm bleeding."

"Yeah." His eyes pressed closed, his free hand coming back up to his temple. "Yeah, I saw that. How bad is it? You need to go to the hospital?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"No point anyway."

"Why?" He could hear himself losing the steadiness from his voice. "Dean, I need you to talk to me, Man. I need you to tell me what's going on."

"I'm really sorry, Caleb." The kid's voice was shaking worse than his was, tears starting to creep back in. "Really, really sorry."

"Deuce, what are you sorry for?" he pressed desperately. "Whatever it is, we will figure it out, but I really do need you to talk to me."

"It's not your fault," he went on like Caleb hadn't said anything. "Please don't blame yourself, Damien"

He did not like where this was going. At all.

He swallowed a wave of sickness as a panicked tear escaped his own eye.

"Dean, listen to me. Put it down and walk away. Tell me where you are and I will be there as soon as humanly possible, but I need you to walk away from whatever's in front you and stay away until I get there."

"I can't," the kid choked through a heavy sob. "I can't do this again, Caleb! I... I... I'm sorry. I just... I can't. I can't."

"Do what, Deuce?" His voice was weak and terrified and he hated it. "Please, Man, whatever it is, I will help you. Just take a deep breath and please, put the gun down."

"Please find Sam and make sure he's okay."

"Dean!" He reached out and steadied himself against a wall as his legs began to shake. "Kiddo, you gotta listen to me. If Sam is gone, we will find him, and then we will go as far away from your dad as possible. I've got you, Deuce, I'm here, I'll help you, I just... I just need you to hold on. Please!"

"I can't do it," the boy repeated, still helplessly crying. "Not again. I can't."

"And I can't lose you, Deuce." The words came out barely more than a whisper, weak and shaky and so, so scared. "Alright? I can't. I know it's not fair to ask, I know you're so sick of fighting, but one more time, I need you to fight it out, Kiddo. Please. I will be there... right there, and I'm gonna hug you for like... ever, Man. You just gotta give me a little more time."

He should have never left. He should have never, ever left him alone with Sam and John and that ticking time bomb he had for a brain, he should have...

"I'm sorry, Damien." He sounded just like the broken little kid he'd met all those years ago. "I really am."

A gunshot cracked through the speaker.

Caleb screamed. 

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