tw: depression, suicide mention, death mention, abuse mention, emotional manipulation, alcohol mention

word count: 2,994

notes: I'm so sorry this took me so long... I really struggled with this one and I'm not really sure why. But I think I like how it turned out, so hopefully it's worth the wait?

They'd taken the eleven-hour trip in legs, Caleb driving for the first four hours while Dean slept, then switching places for the next four, when Caleb's own exhaustion finally caught up to him.

Their final stop for fuel found Dean seemingly near shutting down completely from the weight of the past few days and the anxiety for those to come, and the older man had taken the wheel once more.

Dean wasn't sleeping this time, and after an hour of the boy's foot tapping rapidly against the car floor while he stared into the void like it was a ghost, Caleb finally switched off the radio.

His best friend looked over at him with a certain pleading in his eyes, silently asking him to not start another chick flick.

As much as he wanted to answer the plea, Caleb forced his eyes back onto the road and pressed ahead.

"Talk to me, Kid."

Silence.

The psychic let out a heavy sigh.

"Look, Deuce, it's now or at the farm. Take your pick."

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked quietly.

Caleb bit his lip, considering the question. "I want you to tell me if you're gonna be okay out there," he said at last. "Cause if you're not, I'm not leaving you there."

"I'll be fine, Reava." But the attempted jab was said in an utterly dead tone.

""I mean it, Man," the older hunter countered. "I'm not abandoning you again."

"You didn't abandon me."

"Yeah, I did," Caleb sighed. "And that's mostly on your dad, but I was the one who listened to him."

"What else are we supposed to do?"

Again, he hesitated. It was the ultimate question. Finally, "I don't know."

A depressed silence settled between them. Caleb wanted to say they'd just run, they'd stay away until John was forced to be reasonable, but he knew Dean would never leave Sam. He couldn't even ask him to. He knew John had kept the kid in his vehicle because he knew they wouldn't run off without him. Sam and John both knew Sam was Dean's ultimate vice, and they'd both proved in the past few days that they were not afraid to use that against him in the cruelest ways.

"Look, Damien, I don't think the Guardian is gonna let me off myself on his watch," Dean sighed at last. "You should be happy. I won't be your problem for a couple months."

"You better know I don't think of you like that," Caleb replied seriously. "And I don't... I don't just want you alive, Kiddo. I mean, I do. But I want you okay. Really okay. Not just surviving because you have to."

"I've been surviving because I have to since I was four."

"Yeah, and it's not working."

Dean's shoulders dropped even further than they'd already been sitting. "I'm sorry." The words were barely audible.

Caleb brought one hand up to rub his temple. "Deuce, you don't... you don't have to be sorry. I'm not..." He swallowed hard, fighting a sudden rush of tears. "I just care about you, Kid. You know that, right? That I'm not just doing this out of some... sense of duty or something?"

Dean didn't answer. When Caleb glanced his way, his green eyes were steadfastly fixed on the floor.

"Kid?" he pressed. This wasn't an issue he was just going to let Dean wriggle his way out of.

"I don't know, Damien," Dean choked out finally. "I know you say that, but I just... I shouldn't be your problem, Man."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you you're not," the older man countered desperately. "We're family. Always have been. You should understand better than anyone how an older brother feels about his younger one."

"But.." It was clear Dean was barely fighting back his tears. "Ever since we met, you've been fixing me, Caleb! I was a screwed up little kid who wouldn't talk, and you got stuck as my babysitter slash therapist! You know how unfair that is?"

"Dean, it's not... it's not like that."

Not for the first time that past few months, Caleb was tempted to finally tell the boy the full truth about where his nickname came from, but the lump in his throat and stinging behind his eyes told him that wasn't a good idea while he was trying to follow John Winchester on a mildly busy freeway.

"You remember what I told you about that time back at the farm?" he asked instead.

"Yeah, but... but that was one time. And I didn't even know what I was doing. Just being an annoying little kid, really."

"You didn't even know what you were doing," Caleb parroted back to him meaningfully. "That's the thing, Kiddo. You hardly ever did. You know how many times I... I just... screwed my head back on because of you? How many times I'd think about that... hero worship you had for me, the way you just straight-out told me I was your best friend... and think that if you thought of me like that, maybe I wasn't so worthless after all? You weren't the only one who was screwed up when we met. I don't think I have to remind you that Mac literally pulled me out of a freakin' psych house. And then I saw this... this broken little kid who'd seen one of his parents die just... just like I had... and I thought that maybe all that crap I'd been through could be worth something if it helped me help you."

"I'm just sick of needing help, Damien!"

Caleb's chest throbbed from sheer knowledge of exactly how that felt. "I know, Deuce... gah, I... I know, cuz I've been there, Man. Just ask Mac how many times... how many times I would just try so hard to just... find his line because I was so sick of feeling... of feeling like his problem. But you're not my problem, Kiddo. You're my best friend."

"You know how... how bad of a deal that is for you?" Dean pressed through the tears he was angrily swiping away. "You could have a best friend who's... who's freaking your age, whose dad doesn't ban you from seeing him for five months, who calls you at two-am to go drinking, not because... because he's about to put a bullet in his mouth. Who you don't have to fix and... and take care of!"

Caleb bit his lip, using everything inside of him not to break down, to resist the urge to pull the car over and hug the boy next to him until he had no choice but to believe him. Because he knew it just didn't work like that.

"Look, Deuce," he said at last. "I could argue with you til I was blue in the face. I would if I thought it'd do any good at all. But I've been where you are, and I know it won't. So do what you have to, Kid. Try my patience. Tell me all the reasons why I shouldn't stick around, be as big of a jerk as you can possibly muster to give me a hundred more. That's what I did for a long time. But I'm tellin' you right now... it's not gonna work. And the harder you fight me, the closer I'm gonna stick."

Dean bit his lip, stared at the floor with wet eyes, and didn't answer.

"Back there, on the phone, you know what you said to me?" Caleb asked quietly after a long moment of silence.

"Something I probably shouldn't have," Dean mumbled, his tone dripping with self-hatred and regret.

The older hunter pressed forward anyway. "You told me I might be the only person you trusted right then," he said quietly, his eyes filling despite his very best efforts. "You know how much that means to me, Kid? That... that demon spawn like me... could be the one call... the one person you look to and... and trust when you're at your very lowest?"

"Dude." A genuine frown was etched across Dean's face as he finally looked up at him. "Don't call yourself... demon spawn."

Caleb managed a bit of a smile. "Now you know how I feel when you call yourself a freak."

The younger man deflated, eyes dropping right back to the floor boards.

"Seriously, though," the psychic pressed after a moment. "How would you feel if Sammy was saying all this to you?"

"That's different."

"Why? Because you're blood? Hate to break it to you, Kid, but I don't have the luxury to care about that."

"No!" Dean exclaimed, frustration in his tone. "Just... just because... because I'm different!"

Caleb exhaled heavily. And that was the root of the issue... Dean genuinely believed there was something objectively superior and more worthy of love about his brother... and everyone else on the planet... in comparison to him.

"I know you feel worthless, Deuce," he said softly. "I know. But you're not."

The boy's eyes snapped shut, but water immediately began to creep out anyway. "Caleb, you're the only one who thinks that." The words were barely audible and utterly choked.

He wouldn't have been surprised if his heart just gave out given the burning pain the total honesty in the younger man's was evoking in his chest. The last thing he wanted was to be was crying his eyes out going eighty on the freeway, but he was about a centimeter away from doing just that.

"I know a list of people who would take offense to that," he managed instead.

"They know deep down," Dean argued, desperate but still barely more than a whisper. "It's just you, Damien."

"No, Dean," he countered, shaking his head as he continued to blink back tears. "It's not. But if you feel like it is... that's exactly why I don't wanna leave you, Kid."

"And that's exactly why you shouldn't be cursed with caring!"

Caleb took a breath to respond, then let it out slowly. "Like I said," he told him instead. "try your hardest. I'm not going anywhere."

time-skip sponsored by brutal by olivia rodrigo

Dean kept his head down as he followed his father and brother up the steps of the Kentucky farmhouse, Caleb behind him. Anxiety and utter shame were the only things he was processing.

This could not be happening.

Jim beat them to the door, as usual. Contrary to usual considering the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, however, he didn't have a mug of coffee in his hand. He'd kept both empty to silently hold out in Dean's direction.

He dutifully stepped into the embrace, head still done, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't cry. His dad was here, and he couldn't cry.

The way the pastor squeezed him extra tight before letting go did nothing to help stay the waterworks. However, he was grateful for the way the Guardian abstained from saying anything for the moment, though he'd know he'd have plenty to later.

Finally, he let him go and ushered him and Caleb into the house behind the other two Winchesters.

The tension that was immediately present in the living room they made their way to was thick and heavy.

Sam wasted no time in looking at Jim with pleading eyes like only he could. "Is it okay if I get some sleep?"

The minister nodded with a small smile in the teen's direction. "Of course, Samuel."

"Thanks." And he dashed up the stairs with much more energy than his persona five seconds before would have suggested he possessed.

"Who wants coffee?"

"Please," Caleb murmured, his tone making it clear he needed all the help he could get to have patience for the conversation to come.

"Yeah," Dean said quietly without looking up. "Uh... me too. Please."

"Jonathon?"

An annoyed sigh from the Knight. "Unless you have a beer, I'll pass."

"There may be some beer hiding downstairs," Jim replied easily. "But I think it's best if we leave it there for now."

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Dean's father sank into a seat with another heavy sigh. Dean looked at Caleb, feeling like a little kid following his mother around a party.

But the older hunter just met his gaze and nodded a little reassurance, crossing the room to the couch they'd taken up residence on the night this entire mess had started, indicating for him to follow. He did, and they waited in the unbearable tension until Jim appeared with two steaming mugs of coffee in hand.

When they'd been handed off to the boys and respective thanks had been murmured, he vanished again to collect his own, then took his own seat as well and allowed his gaze to levelly sweep the room.

"How was the drive?"

A beat of silence, then another.

Finally, Caleb spoke up. "It, uh... it was okay. Uneventful. Usually a good thing."

"Glad to hear it," the older man confirmed. "Dean, how do you feel?"

"I'm okay," Dean replied softly, wishing desperately that he didn't exist.

John cut in before the Guardian could reply. "I don't have much time. I just want to make sure we're on the same page, Jim."

The pastor nodded evenly. "Of course."

"If you don't mind, I need you to watch the boys for a little while." A glare in the direction of his older son. "Look after Sam, make sure Dean doesn't decide to..."

"Look after them," Jim cut him off. "I understand, Jonathon. Of course I will."

"And he is not to speak to them until September." Glare turned to Caleb, who just returned it with even more seething anger.

"That's not fair, Jim," Caleb countered, his tone level, but undeniably frustrated. "Least of all to Dean."

Jim pursed his lips, nodding a little. "I know why you made that rule," he addressed John evenly. "But don't you think..."

"No!" the younger man snapped before he could finish. "I don't! I've made my decision, and if you're not going to enforce it, I'll take them with me!"

The Guardian let out a long sigh, but gave in. "I have a few hunts lined up for you anyway, Caleb," he said, his tone apologetic, but defeated. "They should keep you busy until then."

The psychic shook his head in utter disgust, but said nothing.

"I mean it," John reinforced. "I don't want a soft yes."

"I understand, John." There was a note in the pastor's voice that said it wouldn't be wise to press the subject further.

"Good." The Knight got to his feet sharply. "Then I'll be going." He looked at Caleb. "And you better be, too."

"My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow night," his prodeje said without looking at him. "So if you're in such a hurry, you're gonna have to trust Jim to kick me out on his own."

John rolled his eyes, but didn't respond, instead looking at his son. "Dean, walk with me."

Dean swallowed down a wave of terrified nausea, but obediently got up and took a step after his father.

Caleb matched it with two, reinserting himself between the two Winchesters.

"Not you, Junior."

"Wasn't exactly asking permission."

"And that wasn't exactly up for debate."

Caleb opened his mouth to argue further, but Jim spoke first, his tone utterly exhausted. "Let them have a moment, Caleb. Jonathon won't hurt him."

The second part was said with a pointed look at John.

Satisfied, the Knight continued out into the sunrise. Dean forced himself not to look at Caleb as he followed him.

John stomped down the porch steps before turning to face him, arms crossed over his chest. Dean never felt as utterly small as he did standing before his father's displeasure.

"Look at me, Son."

With what felt like iron anchors weighing them down, Dean forced his eyes up. Fists clenched at his sides to keep his hands from shaking. Just breathe. It was fine. He was fine. He knew Caleb was standing at the open kitchen window, listening and watching for any misstep on John's part.

"I love you." The words could have been comforting if they weren't said in such a low and dangerous tone. "I would sacrifice anything for you, and I have. I don't do that just for you to go and throw your life away."

"Yes, Sir." No tears, no sign of fear. Nothing. He was a man, and he was going to take this like a man.

"Look after your brother. Right this time. If you feel like crap, drink a beer. Go for a run. Split some firewood. If you want to see Caleb again come September, don't bring him running back because he thinks you need him to be your shrink."

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't even want to know what your arm is bandaged for," he continued with a hard glare at the white corner peaking out from under the boy's sleeve. "But unless it's from a hunt, it better not happen again. You understand me?"

"Yes, Sir."

There was a long pause, and John's gaze softened just slightly. "You know I love you, Ace?"

"Yes, Sir."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"I love you too." He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

John nodded slightly, briefly clapped him on the shoulder, and walked to his truck without another word.

Dean stayed where he was, holding back his tears until the vehicle had disappeared around the first bend in the driveway. Then, the strength dropped out of his shoulders, and he felt the water beginning to run down his face against all of his best efforts.

The door opened behind him. He could tell by the way the person descended the porch steps that it was Jim. The pastor's arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he gently turned him back in the direction of the farmhouse.

"It's alright, Dean," he said quietly. "You're safe here. You can rest now."

The last part is already written, and is just a short goodbye between Dean and Caleb. It'll be published right after this one. Please let me know what you think. Love ya.

- Line