tw: self harm, suicide attempt, depression, abuse mention, parentification

word count: 4,225

He pushed himself to his feet while still sobbing, shoving his phone back into his pocket and snatching his keys from where he'd left them. He took a step towards the door, but his father stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Caleb, Son, talk to me. What happened? Is he okay?"

"He's alive," Caleb managed, continuing to head for the stairs and making Mac walk with him. "And I promised him I would come straight there."

"Alright, I'm coming with you. Will you let me drive?"

Caleb shook his head. He'd felt far too helpless and utterly out of control for the past twenty minutes, and if the only thing he could control was a steering wheel, he wasn't going to pass that up.

"I need you to call Sam."

"Where is he?"

"He disappeared again."

"And that's what..."

"Yeah."

"What do you want me to say?"

Caleb hesitated as they each grabbed a jacket and Mac locked the door behind them. He knew the last thing Dean would want was for his brother to know what had happened or feel responsible for it.

But he was, at least in very large part, and the boy needed to learn.

"Tell him his brother almost died, and he's to wait for us at the police station."

He'd decide how much to tell him when he was in person and could deliver the lecture with full force. After he'd actually heard the full story from Dean.

Because at the moment, he still had absolutely no idea what exactly had happened.

Mac climbed into the passenger's side of his Jeep as he slammed the driver's door behind him and started the car.

"Put him on speaker," the younger man ordered as he went to find the boy's contact.

Mac sent him a hesitant look.

"I won't say anything unless I need to."

That seemed to satisfy the doctor, and he queued the call and let it ring.

No answer.

"Call him again."

A voicemail that would probably be ignored wasn't going to do the job this time.

They had a two-hour drive to kill, and Sam Winchester wasn't exactly known for his patience.

An hour later, they were finally out of the city, and the ringing soundtrack they'd been driving to was finally broken by a very angry teenage voice.

"Holy crap, Mac, what?"

"Sam."

"I am sixteen, you guys can't flip out every time I don't check in for an hour!"

"Sam."

"And I don't even wanna hear what Dean said, because he flips out over nothing and is just scared of Dad!"

"Sam!" Caleb barked.

"What?"

Mac held up a hand to keep Caleb from answering again. "Your brother's in trouble."

"With our psychotic father? Yeah, no change from the past four months, then."

Caleb wanted to scream.

"No, Sam," Mac said, a sterner note in his voice. "Real trouble. He almost died kind of trouble."

"What?" Sam sputtered for a minute. "He... how? He didn't have any hunts... who... where is he?"

"We are on our way," the doctor said instead of answering. "But we need you to go to the Goshen Town Police station and wait for us there. We'll be there in about an hour."

"The police station?" the teen asked incredulously. "What did he do now?"

Caleb physically bit down on his tongue.

"Just meet us there, Sam. I mean it."

The kid muttered a string of curse words before snapping, "Yeah, okay. Got it. I'll freakin' be there."

The line went dead.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"I think you should let me deal with the younger brother," Mac sighed tiredly. "While you handle the older one."

"I'm gonna take care of the older one, and then I'm gonna murder the younger one. In cold blood."

His father shook his head slowly. "I think Sam should be grateful there's traffic."

"I think you're right."

time-skip sponsored by fort collins coffee house, because i spend more time here than at my house rn

An hour and a half later, Caleb was closing the Jeep door behind him and striding into the relatively small police station on unsteady legs. The first thing he saw when he pushed through the second set of doors was a lanky, long-haired teenager sitting in the waiting area, an angry look on his face, but his leg bouncing with undeniable anxiety.

He stood up when he saw the older hunter. "Fina..."

Caleb cut him off with a sharply-raised hand. "Sit down. Stay there."

"But..."

"Now!"

He dropped back into his seat with every ounce of teenage angst he had in him.

Caleb finished his journey to the front desk. "Dean Winchester."

The woman there looked him up and down once. "Caleb?"

"Yeah." He held up his Winchester ID for her to see.

She offered a small smile. "You can follow me."

She led the way down a hall, to a door that said Psych Holding. Caleb swallowed down a wave of nausea and pushed back a hundred terrible memories. These cops seemed nice. They wouldn't... they wouldn't...

The officer held the door open for him. Another cop was sitting on a chair in one corner. Dean was curled into the corner of a couch that made his six-foot self look utterly small, his elbows on the inside of his knees and his head in his hands.

This time, it was a wave of utterly relieved tears that Caleb found himself fighting back, forcing himself not to rush across the room and risk alarming the kid.

"Deuce?" he asked quietly.

The younger man looked up dully. A long moment of silence, then, softly, "Hey."

Caleb bit his lip and slowly closed the distance between them, sinking down on the couch beside his friend.

"Rough day, huh?"

Dean nodded a little, eyes fixed on the floor.

With a miserable attempt at a smile, Reaves softly bumped his shoulder against his friend's. "Gave me quite the scare there, ya know."

"I'm sorry," came the shame-filled reply, and Caleb exhaled heavily.

"No, I'm sorry, Deuce. I should have been here."

"Not your job."

"The hell it isn't. Looking out for you is what Calebs do, remember?"

Dean's face broke, and before Caleb knew what was happening, he'd buried himself in his chest like the eleven-year-old kid he'd been when little Sammy first coined the expression.

Reaves' arms were shaking as he desperately wrapped them around the boy.

"You're okay." He was trying to convince himself as much as Dean. "I've got you, Kid, you're okay."

He was very, very far from okay. The emotions rolling off of him were deep, and dark, but dull. Like he was shutting down or something.

The only sound from the younger hunter was a choked sob.

Caleb brought one hand up to gently comb through his short hair. "I'm right here, Man. I'm right here."

They held that position for a few minutes before he thought Dean had stopped crying and he pulled back, hands on his shoulders.

"You okay? Did they hurt you?"

Dean didn't meet his gaze as he shook his head. "No. No, they... they didn't..."

"You sure?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Good."

Caleb turned to the officer sitting in the corner. "Adams?"

The man nodded, rising and holding out his hand. "And you're Caleb...?"

"Winchester," he said as he stood as well to shake the hand, not missing a beat. "The deadbeat dad's younger brother."

Adams nodded once more with a tight-lipped smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah. Me too." He glanced back at Dean before asking, "Can I have a minute with him?"

"Of course," the cop confirmed. "I'll be out in the hall, but take as long as you need."

Caleb gave a nod of his own. The door closed behind the officer. He looked back at Dean.

"How we feeling about the whole talking thing right now?"

The kid swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"Okay." He exhaled slowly. "Let's give it a shot, yeah?"

"Okay."

Caleb's frown deepened as he took in the dull look in his best friend's green eyes.

"Did they drug you, Deuce?"

He shook his head.

"You sure?"

A nod.

That might actually be worse.

"Alright." Another heavy sigh. "Good to know."

He sank back into his prior place on the couch and took a deep breath.

"Okay, Kiddo. Tell me what happened."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Sam called freaking out."

Another pause.

"Said he'd gotten picked up for fighting at school. Said he was bleeding, and I needed to come down here and pick him up. Sounded really scared."

Caleb swallowed hard. He was going to kill him.

"I got here and I couldn't find him. They called the school and they said it never happened. But Sam didn't show up to his last class."

Dean's voice started to tremble a little.

"He played me like a school girl, and he got himself a major head start, and now he's gone again, and I know Mac can find him, but Dad... he... he's gonna..."

"Hey, slow down, Man," Caleb cut in. "One thing at a time. You figured out he lied. What then?"

"I went to the car and tried calling him. Like... like a hundred times... but I knew it was no use, and, Damien, Dad's gonna kill me! I can't do this again!"

"You're not gonna do it again," Reaves replied steadily. "I promise. You were in the car. And you cut your arm open, yeah?"

Green eyes dropped even lower. "Yeah."

"Not the first time you've done that the past couple months, is it?"

A little moisture in those dropped eyes. "No."

"Okay. It's okay. What then?"

"It didn't... it didn't work like it usually does. Cuz nothing can fix it, cuz he's gone again, and I... I can't..."

"Hey, hey, hey." Caleb leaned over to grasp his forearm, squeezing a little. "Listen to me. Everything's gonna be okay. I promise you it is. So that's when you got the gun out?"

"Yeah."

"And that's when I called?"

"Yeah."

"Kay." He blew out a long, careful breath. "Okay." A terrible attempt at a smile in the boy's direction. "Good job. I know that was hard, but you did great."

Dean looked up at him desperately. "But, Damien, Sam's gone! He's gone, and Dad's coming back tomorrow, and I... I... I can't..."

"Dean. Kiddo. Did I tell you it was gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, but..."

"And do you trust me?"

"Yes, Damien, but..."

"Then trust me, Deuce. I've got something to show you."

He got to his feet and offered the boy his hand to do the same. When he'd pulled him up, hand found shoulder to gently guide him to the door and down the hall.

"Damien, what..."

He stopped short as they came out into the lobby and his eyes found Mac... and his pouting teenage brother.

"Sammy?" The word came out soft and full of disbelief, like the kid truly thought he might be imagining it.

Sam came to his feet once more. "Dean? Oh my... what are you doing here? What did you do? Dad is gonna..."

"Enough!" Caleb cut in sharply. "Just because he's relieved to see you doesn't mean you aren't in worlds of trouble."

"You said he almost died!" Sam snapped. "He looks fine! Did you just tell me that to get me to turn myself in? I..."

"We don't need to tell you anything to get you to turn yourself in!" Caleb retorted. "Dad tracked you once, and he could have tracked you again. I was just seeing if there was a decent bone left in your bratty little body."

"Caleb..." Dean was barely standing, his hand wrapped tight around Caleb's arm, swaying on his feet. "It's fine."

The older man let out a light, humorless laugh. "Kid, it is a lot of things, but fine is not one of them."

Sam's frown deepened as he looked between them. "What's going on?"

"Not something we're discussing in public," Caleb told him plainly, patting Dean once on the shoulder to silently tell him he wasn't going anywhere before crossing the room, back to the front desk. "What do I need to do to get him out of here?" Before she could answer, he added more quietly, "The runaway back there doesn't know what happened. Do me a favor and keep it that way?"

She nodded understanding, obviously rethinking how she was going to answer the question.

"He talked to a doctor while we waited for you to get here," she said finally.

They'd made him chat with a shrink. No wonder he looked like he'd been hit by a train.

"He wrote him a prescription, and it should be ready to pick up at the Walgreens down the street."

She slid him a paper which obviously vouched for said meds. He took it, nodding a little.

"We'd recommend checking him into a hospital but if that's too much, at least take him to a doctor."

Inpatient treatment vs outpatient therapy. Neither of which was going to happen if he or Dean had anything to say about it.

She put another paper down in front of him. "A few recommendations from the doctor he talked to."

He nodded again like he cared what the feel-good name of the freak house they wanted his brother in was, accepting that sheet as well.

"You're his uncle, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I look at your ID again?"

He obediently dug it out and held it up for her.

"You were the only person he wanted to see... other than his runaway brother... so I think we'd be crazy not to let him go with you. But if you need us, we're just a call away."

As Caleb tucked away the second paper, he offered her a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks. Really. I'm not sure I would have been able to get him safe without your help."

"Of course, Sir," she replied, briefly returning the expression. "That's what we're here for."

He nodded, then turned away, seeing that Officer Adams had followed them down the hall.

He walked his way, swallowing hard before saying, "Look. Our family's not always... had the best experience with cops. You guys had the capability of making that a whole lot worse. But you didn't. I don't know if I could have gotten him down without you there. You especially... he said you helped him look for the brat over there. You made him feel safe. Thank you."

The man nodded seriously. "I'm sorry to hear that you've had bad experiences in the past. But I'm glad we were here. And I'm very glad he has you."

"I'll take care of him."

"I can tell you will."

The two men shook hands a second time, then Adams walked over to where Dean was still standing, that dazed look in his eyes.

"Dean," he said quietly, "we're gonna send you with your uncle now, but if you need us, you know where to find us."

The boy nodded a little. "Yeah." A hesitation. "Thanks."

The officer offered him a small smile. "Anytime."

Caleb returned to his position at the younger man's side, his hand returning to its place on his shoulder. "Alright. Let's get outta here."

They left the building in silence, but the second they were in the parking lot, Sam whirled on his older brother.

"Dean, what the heck were you doing there? Did you get arrested?"

Dean blinked at the boy in genuine confusion. "Sammy, I was looking for you. You called me and said...'' He trailed off, but his internal dialogue continued. He was wondering if he was crazy, if he'd imagined everything.

"Oh." It seemed the teenager had genuinely forgotten about his fake call for help. "Yeah. But still... they were like... holding you! Caleb said you almost died! What did you do?"

"Sammy, I..." He bit his lip and shook his head a little. "Just forget about it, alright?"

The boy let out a sharp bark of laughter. "In your dreams. You know when Dad gets back..."

"Sam!" Caleb barked. "Enough!"

He turned to Dean, his voice softening.

"Deuce, you're in no state to drive, but we don't know where you guys are staying. And me and the runt need to have a chat. So if you can give Mac your keys, he's gonna get the Impala that far, and your brother's gonna come with me. Okay?"

Dean swallowed hard, but nodded slightly, digging into his pocket and holding out said keys to the Scholar, but making no move towards his parked car.

"Damien," he said softly, "please don't... don't tell him... tell him that I..."

"Hey," Caleb cut him off gently. "You trust me?"

The younger hunter pressed his eyes shut and nodded.

"I've got your back. I"ll see you in a few minutes."

Mac took over, placing his hand on the opposite shoulder as Caleb's, who squeezed a little before releasing him and watching him slowly walk in the Impala's direction, casting nervous looks behind him as he did.

When the passenger door had closed behind him, Caleb turned on his heel and strode towards his Jeep. "Get in."

Sam's fists clenched at his sides, but he obediently stormed around to the other side of the vehicle, yanking the door open and slamming it shut after him.

Caleb didn't look at him as he started the engine and clicked his seatbelt into place. "Which way?"

"Right," Sam said through gritted teeth. "Then left onto Main."

There was a long moment of silence as Caleb backed out of his parking spot and pulled out after the Impala, Sam silently seething beside him.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to him?" he asked finally, his voice quiet and cold.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam snapped. "Dad's the one who hit him! Dad's the one who gave us this punishment! It's not my fault he's making Dean do his dirty work and Dean's letting him!"

"No, you're just the brat who ran away in the first place, and then decided it was a freaking fantastic idea to pull the exact same crap all over again when you knew we'd be able to find you!"

"I wasn't running away! I just wanted some space! Some time with my friends without him in the freaking corner booth!"

"So you decided the best way to get it was to use how much he loves you against him?" Caleb asked incredulously. "Do you realize how freaking low that is? You are his biggest weakness, and you used that to stab him in the back and screw him over! How was he supposed to know you didn't run, huh? Why wouldn't that be his first assumption?"

"Well, be... because..." Sam sputtered. "It doesn't matter! I'm not a child! I deserve some time to myself!"

"And whose fault is it that that's not allowed right now, Sam?" the older man retorted. "You dug this grave for yourself and your brother, and you just cannot stop making it deeper for both of you!"

"But..."

"No buts!" Caleb cut him off, his voice raising. "Sam, if you don't want to be treated like a child, stop acting like one! You are as self-centered and oblivious as a freakin' toddler! I asked you if you knew what you were doing to your brother, but that would require seeing two inches past your own nose! You are killing him, Sam! You and the bastard you have for a father, but you don't get to lay all of it on him! You take out all of your anger against your dad on Dean and he does the exact same thing when he's mad at you! And you don't even see it!"

"We don't..."

"What did I tell you back in March?" Caleb snapped. "In Cheyenne?"

The boy's jaw clenched. "That I can't blame Dean or take it out on him when Dad screws up. But..."

"That's exactly what this was, Sam! Sticking it to your dad by actually sticking it to your brother! He can't keep doing this! Sometime, I'm not gonna pick up the phone in time!"

"What do you mean?" the boy asked, both desperate and angry. "You're lecturing me about whatever happened today, but you won't even tell me what that is! Stop treating me like a kid!"

Caleb pursed his lips hard. He knew how Dean felt. But he also had no idea how to get through to the boy without telling him.

"You wanna be treated like an adult?" he asked, his voice quieter. "Alright. I'm gonna treat you like an adult. And I'm gonna expect you to keep a secret like an adult. Not a word to Dean that I told you. And not. A. Word. To your dad. You got that?"

The teenager hesitated. "I..."

"Yes or no."

A huff. "Yes. Okay. Got it."

Caleb looked at him sidelong for a long moment, but nodded slightly, then took a deep breath. "When he figured out you'd tricked him, your brother looked telling Johnny he lost you again in the face and decided he'd rather put a bullet in his mouth."

Sam froze, a blank and afraid look on his face. "What?"

"I know you heard me."

"You mean he... he tried to..."

"Don't know why you're so shocked. You are everything to that kid, Runt. And these past few months haven't exactly been a walk in the park for him, either."

"But how could... how could he..." And that was all it took to reduce him back to a scared twelve-year-old kid. "How could he just... do that?"

"I don't know, Sam, how could you just do what you did?" Caleb snapped. "I'd really think after last time, you'd have learned that your actions have consequences."

"But..." the teenager faltered. "If he's so miserable with his life... why doesn't he just leave? He's an adult."

Caleb shook his head in utter disbelief. "Why doesn't he... because of you, Sam!

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You really think he'd leave you with no one to take Johnny's wrath, to stand in the gap for you? Runt, he has been being both parents to you for sixteen years! He's not just gonna abandon you... doesn't matter how miserable he gets."

"But isn't that what offing himself is doing?"

Caleb exhaled heavily. "Yeah. It is. And he's been pulling himself back from cliff edges for a long time because of that. Because of you. It's a small mystery how that gets a lot harder when you start treating him like public enemy number one."

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Sam snapped, trying to mask the tears that were nevertheless blatant in his voice.

"No, Sam," the older man sighed. "It's not that simple. What I'm saying is that you need to wake up and take responsibility for what you are doing to your brother. I know you think I'm always gonna be able to ride in and save the day, but sometime..." He swallowed hard. "Like I said. Sometime, I might not pick up in time. You understand?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Up here. On the right."

Caleb changed lanes and braked as he spotted the yellowed sign that no doubt advertised the Winchester's latest five-star living conditions.

"Around back. Room 132."

Sam stayed silent as he followed the directions to the back of the building and pulled into a parking space in front of the indicated room, put it in park, and killed the ignition. Another long moment passed.

Then, "I'm sorry. I screwed up."

Caleb exhaled slowly. "Yeah. You did. But your brother's the one you really owe an apology to."

The teenager bit his lip. "I'm really not allowed to tell him I know?"

"Absolutely not."

Sam sighed, but didn't argue further, and Caleb went on after a moment.

"And I'm still pretty pissed at you, so if you need to talk about it with someone, Mac's your guy. Or you can call Jim. Just not until I either call him or let Dean do it."

Sam hesitated before asking in a terribly small voice, "This isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

The older hunter ran a tired hand down his face, searching for a response that didn't expose Dean too much without flat-out lying to the kid beside him.

"Let's just say when I called him and the first thing he did was apologize... I knew what I should be afraid of."

Sam swallowed hard. "And Dad's the only one who's not gonna know?"

"I don't know, Runt," he sighed. "We'll cross that bridge when he gets here. If I don't kill him the minute he shows up."

"Yeah." If there was one piece of common ground between the two of them at that moment, it was their distaste for John Winchester. "Okay."

A hesitation.

"Thanks for telling me, Caleb. I really am sorry."

"I know." He swallowed hard. "But it shouldn't take... this... for you to be sorry. And you're gonna have to prove it, not just say it."

"Okay. I got it. I'll make it up to him."

Caleb just nodded a little and finally opened his door.

He had no idea if that was even possible.

Sorry for the update gap. Gonna just be honest and say my life's a mess right now. But hopefully the final two parts will be up much quicker. Also, I know I keep extending it, but I *think* 7 is my final answer. Thank you all so much for reading. Your comments really do mean the word. Love you lots.

- Line