Chapter Text
Sam fell asleep in Dean’s bed that night.
And honestly, in almost any other situation, Caleb would have tortured both of them mercilessly for acting like girls.
But this was different.
Anything involving their mothers — or the thing that killed them — was different.
That kind of pain didn’t fade.
It settled deep inside a person and stayed there.
Sam was quiet and spacy the next morning and was scribbling on a pad of paper that was sitting on the table.
Dean was watching his younger brother closely; Sam was trying to make sense of all that had happened the night before, and all Caleb could think about was Dean as a kid, when he wouldn’t talk to anyone, and he lived in a world of silence.
“I’m gonna go find us something for lunch,” Dean finally said as he stood. “You gonna be okay, Sammy?”
Sam nodded without looking up.
“Alright.” Dean grabbed his keys before glancing toward Caleb. “Watch my brother for me?”
Caleb snorted.
“Sure, Mom.”
Dean flipped him off on the way out the door.
The second it shut behind him, Sam seemed to deflate.
The pencil stopped moving.
“You okay, Sammy?”
Sam looked up slowly.
There were dark circles under his eyes.
“I have a headache,” he admitted quietly.
“You want Tylenol or something?”
Sam shook his head.
“No.” He hesitated. “But I need you to tell me the truth about something.”
Caleb sat down across from him.
“What do you need to know, kid?”
Without speaking, Sam turned the sketchpad around.
Caleb froze.
It was a drawing of a beach house.
Not just any beach house.
That beach house.
The house where Caleb’s parents died.
The place where the yellow-eyed demon murdered his family and left Caleb alive with demon blood running through his veins.
“This is where your parents died, right?” Sam asked quietly. “In this house?”
“…Yeah.”
“And it was a demon.” Sam swallowed hard. “Yellow eyes.”
Caleb stared at him carefully.
“Sam,” he said slowly, “why do you know all this?”
Sam ignored the question.
“Does the Brotherhood know our parents were killed by the same thing?”
Caleb hesitated.
He should probably lie.
But the kid sitting across from him already looked like he was unraveling.
“They’ve been looking into it,” Caleb admitted quietly. “They think it’s possible.”
Sam laughed softly, but there wasn’t any humor in it.
“So all of this…” He gestured vaguely between them. “The Brotherhood. Me. You. Dean.” His voice tightened. “It’s starting to feel like some screwed up master plan.”
“Sam—”
“No.” Sam rubbed hard at his forehead. “I know about the blood in your veins, Caleb.”
Caleb went still.
“And part of me knows you’re just you,” Sam continued quietly. “You’re Caleb. You’re family. You’re not evil.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“But then there’s this other part of me that can’t stop thinking about the fact that the thing in your blood is the same thing that killed my mother.”
That one hurt.
Not because Caleb blamed Sam for thinking it.
Because Caleb had spent most of his life thinking the exact same thing about himself.
Didn’t Sam understand?
He would die for those boys without hesitation.
“Sammy,” Caleb said quietly, “please don’t hate me for this.”
Sam looked genuinely startled.
“I don’t hate you.”
And Caleb believed him immediately.
“If anything,” Sam admitted softly, “it just made me realize why I feel so…”
Caleb frowned.
“So what?”
Sam stared down at his hands.
“…Unclean.”
The word hit like a punch to the chest.
“Why the hell would you think that?”
Sam swallowed hard.
“I don’t know what that thing did to me in that room.” His voice dropped lower. “But after last night…” He rubbed at his arms uneasily. “The dream felt real, Caleb.”
Caleb’s stomach twisted.
“I remember feeling different after Mom died,” Sam whispered. “I just never realized it before.” He looked up finally, fear sitting openly in his eyes. “What if I’m not completely human?”
“Sam, stop.”
“Why?” Sam shot back suddenly. “Mom died over my crib. A demon was in my room.” His breathing started shaking again. “You had to have thought at least once that maybe it was there for me.”
And the worst part?
The Brotherhood had thought about it.
Because they knew things Sam didn’t.
They knew about the psychic abilities.
They knew something in Sam had always been different.
Caleb moved quietly around the table and crouched in front of him.
“Okay,” he said gently. “Listen to me.”
Sam looked exhausted.
Scared.
Sixteen years old and already terrified of himself.
“I don’t know what happened that night,” Caleb admitted honestly. “None of us do.” He held Sam’s gaze steadily. “But whatever happened, it was not your fault.”
Sam stayed silent.
“You were all touched by something evil that night,” Caleb continued. “And yeah, maybe it marked all of us somehow.” He shrugged slightly. “Maybe the demon did something to you. I honestly don’t know.”
Sam’s expression tightened immediately.
“But that does not make you unclean.”
Caleb sat back against the chair beside him.
“I’m the last of a bloodline poisoned by demon blood,” he said quietly. “Trust me, Sammy, I know exactly what it feels like to wonder if something evil inside you defines who you are.”
Sam looked up at him slowly.
“But it doesn’t,” Caleb said firmly. “What matters is who you choose to be.”
The room stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then finally:
“Okay,” Sam whispered. “Okay.”
They sat in silence for another minute before Caleb nudged his knee lightly.
“And for the record?”
Sam glanced over tiredly.
“Any chance you could stop being such an ass to your brother?”
That earned the tiniest laugh.
“I know,” Sam admitted. “I owe him an apology.”
Caleb smiled faintly.
“Yeah. You do.”
Sam rubbed at his temples again.
“You think these dreams are gonna stop?”
Caleb was quiet for a second.
Honestly?
He had no idea.
“…I guess we’ll find out.”