Dragon Slayer

By: Ridley

Beta: Tidia

A/N: If you read my last multi-chapter story, you know that I have been poking at the time line just a little before the series started, when Sam was at school and Dean started hunting more on his own as John distanced himself, before disappearing all together on his quest for the yellow-eyed demon. This is my attempts to insert The Brotherhood AU into that timeline and to explain the question Ti and I always get asked- WHY oh, WHY haven't you written Caleb into the first season episodes of SN? This is our answer.

RCJ

"Fairy tales are more than true not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."-Neil Gaiman

The little valley spread below them like a patched white blanket, green grass jutting through the holes of missing snow. Caleb Reaves was thankful for the sun, although setting quickly; it had no doubt helped greatly in the melting process, which made their unplanned afternoon trek into the forest easier. The surprise December snowfall was heavier here in the mountains of North Carolina than it had been in Kentucky. They were ill prepared for the cold. Winter seemed to have barely passed through the bluegrass state, her frosty coattails just grazing the hills and valleys before choosing to settle herself in amidst the Blue Ridge peaks where their latest quarry had led them.

Lying on the wet ground so he could get a better look at the hunting cabin nestled in the pines wasn't helping matters or lifting his mood. So when his partner kicked his boot for the third time, interrupting his intense study of movement he'd just caught to the side of the structure they were surveying, he didn't hold back on the growl or the vulgarity.

"Damn it, Deuce. I'm trying to assess the situation here."

"I think we have another situation that requires your attention."

"For the last time, Man, those were not bear tracks." Caleb kept his eyes on the cabin, reaching out once more with his abilities as he caught a shadow in the window. The 'casting of the net' as he liked to think of his psychic search yielded nothing yet again, which was disconcerting. Being 'gifted' most days was a pain in the ass. Death visions, precognition as his father liked to spin it, was only the tip of the iceberg. In Caleb's case being psychic often meant exerting vast amounts of energy to block out the mental presence of those around him lest he be drowned in the waves of their innermost thoughts. Anguish, despair, even joy were overwhelming, and ultimately dangerous if it was left to batter at the barriers of one's mind. Sanity could be eroded like the precious coastline. But as annoying it could be, the absence of any swirling consciousnesses below was even more disturbing, like the eerie quiet of a forest when all the familiar background noise is missing. He could see the cabin, knew there were men inside but his trusted senses told another story, spoke more to mirage than reality.

He received another kick, followed by a clearing of throat. "Damien. Dude."

"You really want us to die of exposure out here, don't you?" Caleb dropped the binoculars with a sigh. It seemed his best friend, Dean Winchester, did not care that they were racing against time. Soon it would be dark and even colder, making their trek back down to the jeep arduous at best, treacherous if their typical luck prevailed. He rolled over, intent to take his frustration out on the easiest target only to have all thoughts of hypothermia dashed by another voice. Adrenaline rushed in to take its place.

"I think exposure of a different kind is your most pressing problem, Pup."

Two men in heavy winter camouflage coats and ski masks stood on either side of Dean, one slightly shorter than the other had a gun pointed at Dean's side.

Dean gave Caleb a devil may care grin, shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like you were right about there being no bears in the woods, but I still managed to find some big hairy unwanted visitors."

"Why doesn't that surprise me, Deuce? Just proves my theory that you could catch an STD in a convent." Caleb forced a relaxed smile of his own as if his best friend scaring up trouble in the form of two heavily armed mercenaries from his walk in the woods was an everyday occurrence. "I wish I'd had a heads up about the company for dinner though, we'd have brought more graham crackers and chocolate. I know how you hate to share your S'mores."

The strangers exchanged looks, the small talk giving Caleb a little more time to assess the situation. It didn't take long to realize his abilities would be of no help because like the cabin below the two men were in a psychic free zone. To his senses they were illusury, meaning that the heavy weaponry and Kevlar they were wearing wasn't their only protection. Some kind of spell work was involved. What was worse, Dean was wedged between them, making any telepathic communication with him also impossible. That left the traditional route. Caleb's gun was tucked in the side holster under his jacket, which was zipped against the elements. His backup around his ankle or the knife in his boot would be the easier to reach.

"Stop your yammering and show me your hands, son." The man who'd spoke before pointed his assault rifle at Caleb. "We wouldn't want you doing anything stupid or hotheaded that might get somebody hurt."

"You might want to define stupid because Damien sometimes has a loose interpretation."

"Obviously, considering he's trespassed onto private property, sticking his nose into an unknown situation." The guy holding Dean shook his head. "I'm not impressed with his intelligence so far."

Caleb sat up, bringing his hands in front of him with a smirk. He'd quickly run a couple scenarios of what the 'situation' might be. He and Dean were looking for John. When the cabin seemed like The Knight's destination, they'd considered anything from another secretive one man hunt to a clandestine meet up with militia contacts or some old military buddies, a possibility supported by the appearance of the two goons, but something didn't ring right, especially with the supernatural wards, and the realization that the two men for all their swagger didn't have the same feel as John's Marine brothers.

"Then there's the fact he's unwittingly delivered not only The Scholar's son into potentially enemy hands, but The Knight's as well. A fact The Guardian will not be likely to dismiss."

"Hunters," Dean said the word before Caleb could manage it. "You're fucking hunters?"

Dean pulled away from the man holding him just as the guy gave him a hard shove. "Lucky for you, Winchester we are that."

"Lucky for you you're holding a gun right now." Caleb growled, getting to his feet. "Watch who you're shoving."

"Now you're concerned about his safety." The guy pulled off his hood, revealing a mass of silver blond hair and a rugged, deeply lined face Caleb didn't recognize. The silver ring he raised in Caleb's direction was undeniable. "I could have shot the boy for breeching my secure sector."

"What have I told you about breeching stranger's sectors, Deuce?" Caleb shared a look with the younger hunter. This was not what they were expecting. John had seemed to be distancing himself from The Brotherhood, not entertaining hunters they did not know.

"Wear protection?" Dean played along, but Caleb could sense his confusion. "But I swear I didn't go near this guy's sector. The Patrick Swayze look-a-like is definitely not my type. He was the one getting fresh."

"This isn't a joking matter. You should know better than this, Reaves."

"Don't go poking a tiger, Sullivan. This one's likely to take off a hand if you're not careful."

Caleb might not have known the first man, but he silently berated himself for not recognizing the other hunter's voice or immense stature. Buzz Adams wasn't a man easily matched in size or boisterousness. When he tugged off his face mask, his trademark long red braid fell across his shoulders and he gave Caleb a wink as he picked up the radio clipped to his belt. "I've learned it's better to let the big wranglers handle him."

Caleb exchanged another glance with Dean as Adams spoke into the handheld. "Junkyard Dog, this is Ginger. You ain't going to believe what varmints me and Hollywood ran across up here on the ridge. We're bringing them in so you better make sure The Rifleman has a couple of rounds of Merlin's brew before we roll into camp."

"Copy that, Ginger. I'll alert the Doc to be on standby."

"Was that Bobby?" Dean asked.

Caleb winced, his scenarios growing dimmer. "Sounded like Sanford to me."

"Why don't we have cool trucker nicknames, Hollywood?" Dean smirked at Sullivan.

"Oh you have them, Winchester. I just hate to add further embarrassment to you and Lancelot's predicament."

Caleb made a move to step forward but Buzz's meaty hand stopped him. He gestured to the trail behind them. "How about we all head down before it starts getting dark. We don't want to get caught out with bad weather blowing in."

Dark clouds were quickly filling in the bright blue of the winter sky, but Caleb had a hunch the real storm was waiting for them in the cabin. They had stepped into something big and Caleb wasn't about to walk one step further into yet another blind situation, especially with Dean in tow. "I'm not going anywhere until someone tells us what the hell is going on. Buzz?"

"It's a need to know situation," Sullivan spoke up, motioning to the trail with his gun. "Buzz gave you an order, kid. I think you should show you have some sense and follow it."

"An order?" Dean snorted. "Who the hell put you or the Jolly Red Giant in charge?"

"That would be James Murphy," Sullivan pointed his gun at Dean. "This is a code yellow situation, and as the commanding officer of the Guardian's security detail, I have authority to use any force I deem necessary to assure his safety."

"Point that gun at The Knight's son again and it's not going to be Jim's safety that is foremost on your mind." Caleb stepped in front of Dean. "When it comes to his safety I have authority to rip your fucking heart out and shove it down your throat. Are we clear?"

"Security detail?" Dean stepped shoulder to shoulder to Caleb. "Since when does Pastor Jim have a security detail? I thought that was The Knight's job."

"It is." Caleb looked from Sullivan to Dean, wandering what could have warranted such precaution. "But in some situations, times when there is a specific threat to The Guardian or his family, The Knight can call in a special team of hunters, men trained to act as a Royal Guard of sorts."

"You're telling me Dad has a regiment of musketeers at his beck and call?" Dean shook his head at his friend. "Dude, I bet you love that."

"I don't answer to The Knight," Sullivan was quick to interject. "I most certainly do not take orders from his wet behind the ears understudy. My team and I report directly to The Guardian. I don't answer to anyone else during a code yellow."

"They're more like reservists, think secret service types rather than musketeers." Buzz told Dean with a roll of his eyes. "They're not called into active duty very often so when they are they can be a little abrasive and cocky. They usually protect former Triad members, or shadow The Guardian's family, but seeing as how old Jim Murphy is a widower, and our only living former Triad member is on permanent vacation in Hawaii, well you can see how they might be a tad over eager and all too ready to flex their muscle. At the core, they're still just hunters, bound by the same silver band that connects us all."

"You understand protocol, Adams. In this situation I'm in charge." Sullivan was dogmatic.

"Yeah, yeah, code yellow. Yada, yada, yada." Buzz waved a hand in the air. "I understand you're wasting precious time having a pissing contest with two of the pissiest hunters in our ranks. Do you really want to go through all the paper work of explaining why you were forced to shoot the sons of The Scholar and The Knight in self-defense?"

"I don't care who they are! The moment they broke into my secured area they became potential enemies of The Guardian. I have sworn to eliminate any threat to The Guardian and The Brotherhood."

"We're no threat to Pastor Jim. He's family." Dean growled.

"You often spy on family, Winchester?"

"Maybe we were bird watching," Dean took a step closer and Caleb sighed that his stubborn friend was heedless of the fact Sullivan still had his weapon. Hunter or not, Caleb didn't trust the high strung idiot not to be trigger happy. "The last time I checked that wasn't a crime, let along an act of treason."

"You expect me to believe it's a coincidence you two showing up at the very safe house where The Guardian is being kept. Maybe you two are compromised."

"Jim's here?" Caleb turned his questioning gaze to Buzz, ignoring Sullivan's accusation for the time being. He and Dean had talked to the pastor a few days before when Jim called to make plans for them to come to Kentucky in a couple of weeks for Christmas. He'd also mentioned a hunt in Florida that he'd wanted them to look into before then. At the time the request hadn't seemed odd, but in light of the current happenings Caleb quickly realized they had been manipulated. A simple search for John was getting more convoluted by the second.

"As if you didn't know," Sullivan sneered.

"We didn't come here for Jim."

"Then why did you come? My intel puts you both halfway to Clearwater by now."

"We followed Bobby here," Caleb confessed. It wasn't completely a lie. Bobby had led them as far as the North Carolina border where a call to the Geek Squad had yielded a list of potential places he might have been headed. From there it had been deductive reasoning, good old fashioned detective work and a little bit of luck.

"He's not going to be happy about that." Buzz rubbed his beard.

"So much for discretion and secrecy," Sullivan glared at Buzz. "I'm surprised Singer didn't leave you a trail of breadcrumbs."

"I had a vision." Caleb didn't want to implicate Bobby unfairly. It had been more nightmare than full on vision, but it had prompted them to resume their search for John, who'd been off the radar for almost three weeks. Bobby had merely been a means to an end as he seemed the only one in the loop about what The Knight had been up to currently.

"About The Guardian?" Sullivan's interest was piqued.

"No, I mean, I'm not sure. It wasn't exactly specific, more bad feeling than detailed plot." Caleb didn't like expounding about his talents with those closest to him, let alone a hunter he didn't know. It was one thing to understand those in their ranks were aware of him, had their suspicions to what he was, a completely different thing to confirm their suspicions.

"But detailed enough to get you here?"

"We used more traditional means to find our way here," Dean supplied, taking another step closer to Sullivan in challenge. "We happen to be very good at what we do."

"So you admit you disobeyed a direct order from The Guardian and followed him here?"

"I told you I had a vision." Caleb gritted his teeth, reaching out and putting an arm in front of Dean. "I felt the risk to a fellow hunter outweighed the need to followup a gig in Florida."

"And we came here for my dad," Dean supplied, though Caleb wished he'd kept that bit of information to himself. "Not Jim."

"John is going to be even less happy to hear about that than Bobby, Pup." Buzz sighed, running a hand over his red braid. "You're in deep shit."

"At this moment, I could give a hairy rat's ass about making The Knight happy." Caleb glared at the older hunter. His concern for his mentor had quickly been overshadowed by the fact he and Dean had not only been kept in the dark by The Triad, but were currently being treated like enemies of the state. "He can stay huddled in his little hideout for all I care. Deuce and I will head on to Florida just like Jim asked."

A hand snaked out and grabbed Caleb's jacket as he turned to start back down the trail that led to the Impala. Sullivan really didn't understand who he was dealing with. If Dean hadn't been caught between them, Caleb would have decked the pompous ass then and there. "It's too late for that now. You and your buddy aren't going anywhere, Reaves."

"You and what army is going to stop me?"

"He's right, Caleb." Buzz shook his head. "You and Dean are going to have to come with us."

"You said it yourself; no one down there is going to be too happy to see us." Caleb had already done the math. Technically they had defied an order from The Guardian, or at least he had as hunter in charge. John was obviously well and good. Dean could rest easy. They both could rest easy in Florida-safely out of The Knight's reach. Caleb would deal with any fallout from The Guardian at a later date.

"You probably should have thought of that before you poked your nose in John's business, Kid."

"He told you he had a vision, Grizzly Adams."Dean poked a finger in Buzz's direction. "We weren't playing the Hardy Boys for kicks."

"But now that we know all is well, we'll get out of your way, let you big boys handle whatever it is that's going on." Caleb met Buzz's gaze. "You can just tell 'Junkyard Dog' that you rustled up some rabbits. He'll never be the wiser."

"You know too much now," Sullivan said. "We can't allow you to leave. It's too great of a risk."

"If you're saying you think we'd ever give up Jim..." Dean started forward again.

"He's saying you might not have a choice." Buzz's voice hardened. "Why the hell do you think we're out here in the middle of nowhere with a psychic free perimeter the likes of Fort Knox?" He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two mojo bags. "In fact, you both should put these on. You'll stand out like Rudolph's red blinking nose in a blizzard."

"Especially the telepath," Sullivan added and Caleb did not miss the disdain in his tone.

"I'm not a telepath," Caleb hated that description, cared for Sullivan's prejudice attitude even less. He could technically communicate telepathically, but that didn't define who he was or what he could do. Reluctantly, Caleb took the necklace, watching Dean slip his on without fuss.

"You know what he means, Caleb." Buzz nodded to the bag. "Your abilities could draw unwanted attention."

Caleb looked at the pouch, thinking how apt Buzz's reference to Santa's most famous reindeer was. Like the black cap Rudolph's dad had forced him to wear over his embarrassing blinking nose, a psychic ward was to say the least uncomfortable and stifling for someone who was actually psychic.

"I can keep my blocks just fine." Caleb tried to give the bag back.

Buzz shook his head. "Not against this. Put it on."

"What exactly are we up against?" Dean asked as Caleb slipped the cord over his neck with a grimace. The instant the bag rested against his chest, a thick numbness ran through his body. Like a dense fog can blind, the spell work contained in the bag snuffed out the vibrant connections Caleb counted on. He found it necessary to keep his eyes on Dean, resisting the sudden desire to reach out and establish a physical connection to keep him from falling head first into the psychic black hole.

Buzz didn't answer Dean. Instead he nodded towards the trail. "That's a story best left to The Guardian."

Sullivan took the lead without so much as another word, Buzz bringing up the rear. Caleb alternately concentrated on his footfalls and ran lame defenses in his head as they trekked down the mountainside into the snowy valley below.

"You alright over there, Rudolph?" Dean kept his voice low, his eyes straight ahead.

Caleb couldn't psychically sense his friend's concern, but he heard it in his tone, despite the attempt at humor. He forced a cocky grin. "Just thinking how fun it's going to be to join in all the reindeer games."

Dean snorted. "Until Santa gets a hold of us."

Caleb wasn't sure if Dean was relegating Jim to the Jolly old elf or John. If they were going by the old Rudolph cartoon, John was definitely more along the lines of Donner, the overcritical dad. In fact, Caleb had a new appreciation for sailing away on an iceberg in the middle of a snowstorm. "Leave Santa to me Hermey."

"Do I look like a dentist to you?" Dean nudged his elbow. "Just call me Fireball."

"Clarice is more like it."

Dean rolled his eyes, kept moving. After a few moments he added. "Remember how Sammy loved that movie? He was terrified of the Abominable Snow Monster."

"I remember he wasn't the only one afraid." Caleb cut his gaze to Dean, surprised he brought up the prodigal Winchester. Sam was a subject they averted these days and Caleb could admit that as much as he missed John's youngest son, he did not long to reopen old wounds for Dean. "You both would somehow end up in my room after Jim let you watch that stupid cartoon."

"Like hell. That mojo bag must be affecting your memory, Damien. I was fine with Abominable."

"About the time your voice started to change, maybe." Caleb smirked. "And only then after he lost his teeth."

"Speaking of terrifying monsters, do you think it's too much to hope for our own Yukon Cornelius and some pliers?" Dean's query had Caleb remembering the desperate pleas of a seven year old, demanding Caleb pinky swear that Abominables couldn't survive in Kentucky, that he and his three year old brother were completely safe from Rudolph's arch nemesis and that if one did happen to appear, that there was no need to fear because dragons were their one mortal enemy.

Lost in the past, he nearly collided with his best friend, who had drawn up short after clearing the forest. Dean's gaze was locked on the two story cabin before them. From the outside it looked Christmas card perfect framed by white-iced pines on either side, a month's supply of wood chopped and tucked neatly under an awning. Warm glowing windows beckoned. Picturesque puffs of smoke coming from the chimney promised refuge, but Caleb, like Dean couldn't help but to see it for what it was-the lair of a roaring, roiling-eyed snow beast waiting to devour them for dinner. He only hoped John's anger might be quenched with a red-nosed psychic's demise, and his best buddy Hermey would be spared.

"Damien?"

Caleb dug deep in his reserves and garnered another crooked smile, knowing Dean was watching him. The seven year old was now twenty three, but it didn't change the psychic's need to reassure him he was safe, that any monster that dared attack would be felled by Belac.

"You know what Pastor Jim says, Deuce," Caleb nudged his best friend forward. "Christmas is the time for miracles."

RCJ