Chapter Text
Clean
Sam: 16
Dean: 20
Caleb: 28
It had been awhile since Caleb had seen Sam Winchester.
Ever since Sam hit his teenage years, he had become more argumentative, moodier, and increasingly angry about the life he’d been born into. Things had only gotten worse after Sam received his ring and officially became part of the Brotherhood.
It was no secret Sam didn’t want this life.
And now he saw the ring as just another way his family was trying to keep him from leaving.
Usually when Caleb was in town, he met Dean Winchester at a diner or a bar because Dean desperately needed the break. Dean loved both his father and brother, and whenever they fought, he always ended up trapped in the middle trying to keep the peace.
The other Winchesters didn’t seem to realize the constant fighting was slowly tearing Dean apart.
This time, though, Caleb was meeting the boys in Texas at their latest temporary home.
Sam had just finished school for the summer, and John Winchester had left the boys alone in a motel for the month while he and Bobby Singer handled hunts nearby.
Which basically meant Dean had been left in charge of “knocking the attitude out of Sam.”
Caleb figured Dean could use backup.
After all, he knew a thing or two about difficult teenagers.
He’d survived Dean Winchester at sixteen.
Barely.
He pulled into the motel parking lot a little after one in the morning and grimaced at the building in front of him.
Another classic Winchester home base.
The kind of place you could rent by the month, the week, or the hour.
Caleb knocked once.
The door flew open immediately and a nine millimeter pressed against his chest.
Dean lowered the gun almost instantly.
“You know, Deuce,” Caleb said calmly as he stepped inside, “in literally any world but ours, it’d be weird for your best friend to greet you with a handgun.”
Dean smirked and locked the door behind him.
“Gotta keep you on your toes, Damien.”
Caleb dropped his duffel onto the floor.
“So where’s the Runt?”
Dean sighed heavily.
“Wish I knew. I told him to be back by ten.” He rubbed tiredly at his face. “Shows how much he listens to me these days.”
Caleb frowned immediately.
“You sure he’s okay?” he asked seriously. “Should we go look for him?”
“Nah. He just likes breaking curfew lately.”
That didn’t make Caleb feel any better.
“I always knew Sammy would end up the rebellious one,” he admitted. “But I never thought I’d see the day he stopped listening to you.”
Dean laughed humorlessly.
“It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him. Trust me, he’s not the same kid anymore.”
Something guilty twisted in Caleb’s chest.
He should’ve visited more.
“You thought he was mouthy before?” Dean continued. “Just wait. You’ll understand why I usually meet you somewhere instead of bringing you here.” He snorted softly. “Also, you might wanna retire the ‘Runt’ nickname. Kid’s built like a damn tree now.”
A little after two-thirty in the morning, the motel door finally opened.
Sam walked inside like absolutely nothing was wrong.
And Dean was right.
The kid had grown.
A lot.
Sam was pushing six feet now, broader through the shoulders, and far less gangly than he’d been a year ago. His hair had grown longer too, thick bangs hanging in his eyes.
Caleb blinked.
“What the hell have you been feeding this kid?”
Sam nodded once at Caleb before heading straight for the fridge.
He grabbed an apple and sat across from Dean, who was staring at him with barely-contained irritation.
Sam calmly stared right back while taking a bite out of the apple.
“So,” Dean said evenly, “you gonna tell me?”
Sam raised an eyebrow innocently.
“Tell you what?”
“How about where the hell you’ve been for the last four hours?”
Sam shrugged.
“Around.”
Caleb ducked his head, hiding a grin.
Okay.
He had to admit it.
The kid had guts.
“Well thanks for clearing that up, Sam,” Dean replied dryly. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not really.” Sam took another bite. “I was out with people.”
“And you missed curfew because…?”
Sam tossed the apple core into the trash and looked Dean dead in the eye.
“Because I’m not gonna be home by ten o’clock for the rest of the summer,” he said flatly. “And you are not my fucking father, so stop trying to act like it.”
Dean flinched.
It was small.
Fast.
But Caleb saw it.
Dean had practically raised the kid while John chased monsters across the country. Comments like that hit harder than Sam realized.
Dean leaned back slightly.
“Right,” he said sarcastically. “Because you always do exactly what Dad says without argument.”
Sam grunted and walked over to his duffel bag.
“Well, I made it home alive,” he muttered while digging through his clothes. “So now you and Caleb can go get drunk and pick up cheap hookers.”
Then he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door.
“We weren’t done talking, Sam!” Dean yelled.
“Go to hell, Dean!”
Dean muttered something under his breath and finished off his beer in one swallow.
When he looked over at Caleb, the older man was grinning openly.
“What the hell are you smiling at?” Dean demanded. “I swear to God, Damien, I’m gonna kill the little brat before summer’s over.”
Caleb burst out laughing.
“No you won’t.” He shook his head. “There were plenty of times I wanted to kill you at sixteen too.”
Dean looked deeply offended.
“Please. I was never that bad.”
“Oh, yes you were.”
Dean scoffed.
“You drove me insane,” Caleb continued. “But eventually you calmed down. Sammy will too.”
Dean groaned.
“Any way to speed that process up?”
Caleb smirked.
“Well… you got better after I took you to the Red Caboose.”
Dean immediately choked on his beer.
“No way in hell.”
Caleb laughed harder.
“Hey, Sammy’s older now than you were the first time I took you there.”
“Yeah, but Sam’s…” Dean hesitated awkwardly. “You know. Sam.”
That only made Caleb laugh harder.
“I’m kidding, Deuce. Sammy’s definitely gotta wait a little longer than we did.” He grinned. “Maybe extra drills instead.”
Sam finally came out of the bathroom wearing sweatpants and headphones, completely ignoring both of them as he climbed into the farthest bed from the door.
Within minutes, he was asleep.
Dean walked over quietly and slipped the headphones and CD player away from him.
Then he stood there watching his little brother sleep.
A faint smile crossed his face.
“He still looks like a little kid when he’s asleep,” Dean said softly.
Caleb smiled tiredly.
“Yeah. Better enjoy it while it lasts.”
Dean smirked faintly.
“Before he wakes up and starts being a pain in the ass again?”
“Exactly.”
The lights clicked off a few minutes later, and the motel room finally settled into silence.
A couple hours later, Caleb jolted awake.
Panic slammed into him so hard it felt physical.
Not his panic.
Someone else’s.
“Deuce?” Caleb said sharply.
Dean groaned sleepily.
“What?”
“Something’s wrong.”
Both of them turned toward Sam’s bed.
Sam was tossing violently in his sleep, breathing ragged and uneven.
Dean crossed the room immediately.
“Sammy.” He grabbed Sam’s shoulder gently. “Wake up.”
Sam screamed.
Dean jumped.
“Sam!” he shouted.
Sam’s eyes flew open.
Wild.
Terrified.
The second he realized Dean was touching him, he jerked backward so violently he fell off the bed.
He curled into himself on the floor, staring upward at nothing while struggling to breathe.
“Dean,” Caleb said sharply, already kneeling beside them, “he’s having a panic attack.”
“I know.”
Dean carefully pulled Sam upright against his chest and pressed a hand over his racing heart.
“Sammy, can you hear me?”
Sam nodded weakly but kept staring at the ceiling.
“Look at me, kiddo.”
Dean gently turned Sam’s face toward him.
Sam’s eyes darted frantically between Dean and Caleb while his breathing turned harsher and more desperate.
His fingers clenched tightly in Dean’s shirt.
He couldn’t get air.
“Hey,” Caleb said firmly. “Stay with us.”
Sam’s eyes snapped back open again.
He focused hard on Dean’s heartbeat beneath his cheek, slowly forcing his breathing to match it the same way he had when he was little.
Eventually the panic eased enough for him to breathe properly again.
The second he could stand, Sam pulled away and locked himself in the bathroom.
The faucet turned on.
Dean and Caleb sat silently on the floor listening to the water run.
“…Hell of a nightmare,” Caleb muttered.
Dean rubbed tiredly at his face.
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t think he still had nightmares like that.”
After a minute Dean stood and knocked softly on the bathroom door.
“Sammy?” he asked carefully. “You okay?”
The faucet shut off.
Sam opened the door but refused to look at either of them.
“M’fine.”
No.
He wasn’t.
Caleb could feel it.
Fear.
Confusion.
Something else too.
When Caleb tried reaching for it mentally, pain slammed through his head.
Sam looked up sharply.
“Stay out of my head, Caleb.”
The words came out harsher than intended.
Then Sam sat heavily at the kitchen table, rubbing at his temples.
Dean and Caleb exchanged a glance before sitting back down on their beds, giving him space.
Eventually Sam walked over and sat carefully on the edge of Dean’s mattress.
“Dean?”
Dean looked up immediately.
“What’s up, Sammy?”
“I need to ask you something.” Sam swallowed hard. “But you can’t get mad.”
Dean frowned slightly.
“Sammy, you know you can ask me anything.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Sam looked him directly in the eye.
“The night Mom died…”
Dean immediately tensed.
“…Was she wearing a white nightgown?”
Dean’s eyes widened instantly.
Caleb went completely still.
“Why would you ask that?” Dean asked quietly.
“Dean.” Sam’s breathing started shaking again. “Was she?”
Dean couldn’t lie to him.
“…Yeah.”
Sam’s face drained of color.
“No, no, no…” Dean said quickly. “Sammy, breathe.”
Sam dragged in a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes.
“She was on the ceiling,” he whispered. “Dad ran into the nursery and leaned over my crib…” His voice cracked violently. “Her blood dripped onto us.”
Dean froze.
Sam’s breathing spiraled again.
“He told you to take me outside,” Sam whispered. “Told you to run.”
Dean stared at him in horror.
Caleb couldn’t move.
Because Sam had never been told those details.
Never.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered, “how do you know that?”
“I dreamed it.”
The tears finally spilled over.
“Why would I dream that?” Sam asked brokenly.
Dean pulled him tightly against his chest without hesitation.
“I don’t know, kiddo,” he whispered honestly. “But you’re gonna be okay.”
Beside them, Caleb sat frozen in silence.
Because deep down?
He already knew this was only the beginning.