Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Final chapter! Woo hoo! And I did go a little AU from the Show's backstory. No surprise for me but the chapter's a bit long. And here's part of the song that inspired the title for this chapter…

When you're looking for space and to find out who you are

When you're looking to try and reach the stars

It's a sweet, sweet dream.

~ John Denver – Looking for Space

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CHAPTER 16: Reach the Stars

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They cried unto Thee, and were delivered; they trusted in Thee, and were not confounded.

~ Psalms 22:5

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Sitting on a downed tree trunk overlooking the valley, Dean sighed when he heard the crunch of footsteps in the woods behind him. "How'd you find me?" he asked with exasperation. "I didn't even break any branches," he pointed out, had thought he had been pretty good at not leaving a discernible trail that Caleb could follow.

But it wasn't Caleb who replied.

"You didn't but I know that, whenever you're troubled, you find a breathtaking vista to gaze at," John revealed as he came to stand beside the tree trunk, took his time switching his gaze from the picturesque scene before him down to Dean. "I know you, Son. You are….you were the predictable son," he sheepishly corrected, still shaken that he didn't know either of his sons like he thought he did.

Dean said nothing, was a little stunned that John knew where he liked to go when he was working through his feelings, that his dad took the time to know that about him.

Without waiting for an invitation that might not come, John claimed a seat on the trunk beside Dean, wa transfixed by his son's presence, by the terrifying reality of how close he had come to losing Dean. "You know why I packed Sam up and we left Pastor Jim's in the dead of night to come here?" he quietly asked.

Eyes fixed on the horizon and not his father, Dean irritably supplied, "Because Caleb called and told you I was screwing up."

"Because Caleb said you needed me," John huskily recounted, found that his sons needing him, that still had the power to make his chest tighten and his eyes sting.

Dean's head swung to John at the unexpected reason behind his sudden appearance. Held his breath waiting for his father's stinging rebuke for his actions to come next….but it didn't. In fact, John said nothing. Dean straightened his stance, "I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing, sir." Had hope again that this was salvageable, that the video of his train stunt didn't matter to his dad after all. That it only mattered that he was strong, competent, could still be trusted to watch over Sam.

Dean slipping into his loyal son …no…. loyal soldier routine made John flinch, made Caleb's advice all the more correct. He was Dean's father, first and foremost. A commanding officer didn't love his soldiers like he loved his sons, wouldn't sacrifice everything to save those under his charge, wouldn't denounce everything he believed in, everything he was to keep his soldiers safe…to try and give them even a slice of happiness. Like he would for Sam and Dean at the drop of a hat.

"Dean, I saw the train stunt…heard about the tram accident," John announced, not with so much rebuke but to put it out there, to stop Dean's attempts to downplay what he had done, how reckless he had been.

"So," Dean growled, coming to his feet and taking a few steps forward, putting his father at his back. "I didn't break any of your rules. I went on Caleb's hunt, played the part you wanted me to and then I was free to do my own thing."

John came to a stand too, tersely addressed his son's rigid back, "Do your own thing….you mean almost get yourself killed?!"

Dean's jaw clenched, knew that Caleb had skewed his father's opinion about the stunts, probably Jason's dad had too. Swinging around, he stood his ground and met his Dad's gaze unflinchingly. "I was just having fun. I don't remember that being on your 'do not do' list. Maybe you should add it…along with 'do not run away' for Sam's benefit. Guess it's best if Sam and I aren't left to think for ourselves, right? On hunts…or on our down time."

Fear giving way to anger, John growled, "Not if you both are going to make piss poor decisions."

"Yes, sir," Dean snapped back like a well-disciplined soldier fresh out of boot camp. "We should get back to the motel…" and he made to head back into the woods but his father stepped into his path, latched onto his arms and held on tight.

"Dean," John beseeched, wanting to undo the tension..the hurt between them, to fix things, like he had promised Sam that he would. But Dean's eyes were hard as they lanced into his, full of challenge…and pain. 'Pain I put there.' Wished for the millionth time that Mary was there, could offer her tender counter to his gruff fumbling ways of showing his love to his sons. But Mary's memories were still there in him and in Dean, could maybe help guide them now. "When did your mother say that to you…about loving people even when they hurt you?"

Dean stiffen in John's hold and his eyes went wild before they flickered away to the trees, to anything that wasn't his father's face. But his dad wasn't releasing him, called out his name with gentle concern he rarely showed, "Dean. Please just talk to me, son."

But Dean suddenly wanted to hurt his father, to pay him back for his failings, to him, to Sam…to his mom. So he turned cold eyes onto his father's dark gaze. "I promised mom I wouldn't ever leave her…not like you did."

John's breath caught and he felt his heart do a staccato beat. "When did I…"

"The days you stayed away, that Mom begged you to come home to us, said Sammy and I needed you," Dean sharply indicted, hated that there were so many good times with his mother that he couldn't remember but this memory stayed, tainted so much.

Numbly, John dropped his hands from Dean. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he felt a tsunami of regrets washing over him. Regrets for not appreciating, valuing the good times while he had them, for not saving Mary, for not sparing Dean the pain of losing his mother, of Sam never knowing a mother's love.

Caught up in his memories, Dean choked out, "I told her that you still loved her. Said that I loved her and I promised her ..I promised her that I would never leave her. But I did. She needed me and I left her …in the fire. I chose Sam over her…..." tears streaming down his face.

"Dean, no," John desolately denied as he stepped forward, pulled Dean into his arms. He held his son against his chest as his boy fought back a sob. By Dean's ear he fervently declared, "It was my job to not leave her…to save her. And I failed. Me. Not you, Dean. Not you, son. Never you."

Pushing out of his father's hold, Dean took a few steps back but didn't run from his father, from everything that was building up in his heart. Stood there and let his tears show, let his father see him as he was, let him be disappointed in him for not being the strong soldier he wanted. "Since I failed to keep my promise to mom, I thought I'd keep it with you and Sam. But…you both rather leave me behind. Seems pretty stupid to uphold a promise no one wants you to keep."

"Dean.." John began but Dean held up his hand, brazenly cut him off.

"Don't, Dad. Don't. I'll get over it. I'll reset my priorities. But don't worry, I'll still be your good little hunter, still be Sam's protector. I'll do it for Mom." Then Dean walked into the woods but his father's declaration slowed his departure.

"I left for her own good…for yours and for Sammy's," John began, knew he had to let his guard down, show Dean the ugly part of him so Dean could see the goodness in himself. "I was drinking…heavily. Was always arguing with Mary…feared that I would….hit her. Was terrified I would hurt you or Sammy. And I was…it didn't have a name back then but I was going through PTSD from the war, was having nightmares…at night…during the day. I wasn't …good for your mother…or you boys." Felt both relieved and scared when Dean turned around to face him, wearing a stunned and upset expression.

But through his painful memories, John found a bittersweet smile curling up his lips as his eyes welled as they held onto Dean's. "But Mary was like you, Dean. She forgave so easily, only saw the good in the people she loved. Wanted me back…believed in me, in my goodness when I didn't, when I couldn't. Her love made me good…just like yours does. Your love makes me into some hero when I'm just some scared guy crazy with fear that he'll lose his kids. Makes Sam into some …some rebel with a cause who thinks he can set up shop in Arizona, with a dog and a pizza place on speed dial and be ok until you ditch me and join him."

There John shook his head. "But if you leave us…if you give up on us…on yourself…" he couldn't get the rest out before biting back a sob. "If you died…Sammy and I …we wouldn't make it without you, Dean. I know we've hurt you and let you down but…we love you. And maybe that's not much…."

But then he had his arms full with his fifteen year old son. Holding on tight, he kissed the crown of Dean's head. "You're Mary's gift to me…to Sam. She used to call you her…"

"Little angel," Dean fondly supplied.

John chuckled and playfully rubbed Dean's hair into an unruly mess, "Boy, she did not know how much of a wild child you would turn out to be."

"Hey, that was when I was four," Dean protested as he pushed back far enough to stare up at his dad in mock defiance. "And I'm still an angel."

John snorted. "Not even Jim can call you that with a straight face. And Caleb's been working overtime all these years to make sure an angel is the last thing you are."

Dean smiled brazenly up at his dad. "Mackland always says a comprehensive education can get a man far in life."

"Yeah, it's that liberal interpretation of good advice that always gets you and Junior in hot water. Speaking of Reaves, we better get back there before he sics the hounds after us. I had to arm wrestle him to be the one to come after you," he only half joked as he slung his arm over Dean's shoulders and steered his son back into the woods. They were going home to the family that was waiting for them.

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Having claimed a seat on the picnic table beside Sam, Mackland watched his son pace in front of him, Caleb's eyes never leaving the trail that Dean and then John had disappeared down. "Caleb, take a load off," he finally said, patting the bench beside him. But Caleb gave a shake of his head and did another round of pacing. Though he wanted to remind Caleb that John was Dean's dad, that it was John's right to be out there with his own son, he didn't, was afraid he or Caleb might forget themselves and say things they shouldn't in front of Sam.

"Caleb, maybe you should go find them," Sam suggested, proving that his thoughts were running along the same lines as Reaves and Ames.

And Sam's request was good enough for Caleb, had him stalking forward only to find John and Dean emerging just then from the path. Intently studying Dean's face and using his abilities to gauge the younger boy's emotions, Caleb could detect the remnants of an emotional upheaval by the ebb coming off Dean and by the boy's red eyes but, in contract, Dean wore a tired but happy look of contentment. And blanketing all that was an unmistakable sense of peace, something that Dean had been missing the last few days…heck, had been missing for the past year.

His new found insight stuck Caleb hard, that Dean had been under this shadow of unhappiness longer then he realized. That it didn't start with Sam running away, or their last crappy hunt. That Dean had been drowning in hurt and uncertainty about his value to the ones he loved for a long time and Caleb hadn't seen it, none of them had. Not until Dean couldn't bear the weight anymore, nearly died trying to show those he loved how he felt.

As John left Dean's side to give the younger men their privacy, Caleb did a little double take at the suspiciously matching red eyes John was sporting. "Hey, you alright?" Caleb quietly asked Dean, couldn't resist the urge to reach out and snag the kid's jacket lapel within his fingers, to establish some physical contact between them.

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean huskily answered, gave a small but earnest smile to tell Caleb he wasn't lying. Not anymore.

Relieved, Caleb nodded his head, swallowed down his own emotional response to his dissipating worry. "So you and your Dad…."

"We're good too," Dean declared.

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Relieved and happy at Dean's return, Sam couldn't help but offer up a smile as his father came toward him. His dad had kept his promise and Dean didn't even look mad anymore.

As if reading his son's mind, John greeted Sam by lightheartedly saying, "See, I'm not totally full of crap, I brought your brother back to us."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam replied, the first time in a long time his gratitude to his father was real.

John nodded, almost ashamed to get praise for doing something any half-way decent dad should be capable of accomplishing. Reaching out, he gently cupped the side of Sam's neck with his big hand. "And I know keeping one promise after I've broken hundreds before probably doesn't give me much credit but I'll try to do better, Sam. I will. By your brother…and by you."

It wasn't surprising that Sam's concern wasn't about his father keeping his promise to him but about his older brother's welfare. "Dean, he won't try to hurt himself anymore?"

Slipping his hand from Sam, John gave a negative shake of his head in answer. "I told him you and I wouldn't survive without him, that we needed him. That he couldn't give up on us two jerks…even though we hurt him."

Eyes welling at the pain he caused Dean…his Dad by running away, Sam chokingly asked, "You think he'll forgive us?"

John knew Sam's real question: would Dean forgive him for running away. "Like I told Dean…he's a lot like your mother, forgives easily those he loves.

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"And you and Sam?" Caleb pressed, wasn't going to do half measures making sure Dean was alright this time.

Dean's eyes looked behind Caleb to John and Sam off talking to themselves, and when Sam's eyes darted to him, Dean didn't flinch away, held his brother's upset gaze, and gave a wink. And his act of forgiveness was worth it when Sam gave a big smile back. "We're gonna be alright," Dean determined before he returned his attention to Caleb, "after he does laundry duty for a month, makes me spaghettios every time I want them and goes away when I want to bring a hot girl home."

"Like you ever bring a girl home, hot or not," Caleb jeered, earning him a mock punch in the gut from Dean which he just laughed over.

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'Leave it up to my big, goofy brother to say 'I forgive you' by winking at me,' Sam giddily thought even as he fought down the urge to run and give the big goof a rib-breaking hug. But his dad shifting on his feet in front of him reminded Sam that he had other bridges to mend. Looking up at his father, Sam swallowed nervously, didn't know how things would go between him and his dad. "Guess we could take a page out of Dean's book…call a truce between us."

Not letting on his shock at Sam's concession, John calmly returned, "Sure…with some terms."

"What terms?" Sam suspiciously demanded.

Meeting Sam's wary gaze head on, John outlined the rules of his surrender. "Number one: We agree to talk more and shout less."

"Might be doable," Sam hedged, enjoyed his father's smirk at his response.

"And Number two…" John paused for dramatic effect, saw Sam brace himself for whatever unpleasant rule came next. "I'll find us a place to live for the full school year. Maybe you can play a sport…soccer, or be in a play…or something," he casually suggested, as if those ideas were coming off the top of his head instead of having been supplied to him.

But Sam was staring at him wide-eyed. "For a full school year, really?"

John shrugged as if it was no big deal instead of something that put a cramp in all his plans. "We can try it until you get bored…."

"I won't!" Sam reassured before he gave his dad a scrutinizing look. "Hey, how'd you know I wanted to play soccer, join a play?"

"Your brother," John admitted like he planned to all along. "He's been bugging me to let you join an activity, says you're really good at soccer. And who knows, maybe you're the next Pelé."

"Who?" Sam's confusion real.

Rolling his eyes at it being proven once again how old and out of touch he was, John grumbled, "Ancient soccer player."

Sam nodded but John knew he didn't get it. "Dad, can I go to Dean now?"

"Yeah, you sure can, Sammy." Contently, he watched as his youngest son made a beeline for Dean and Caleb. Knew that no matter how many fences he and Sam rebuilt, he'd never be as close to Sam as Dean was. That the brothers, they had this….astounding bond. 'Mary, you'd be so proud of our boys. I know I am.'

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When Caleb sobered, he tapped Dean on the chest with his knuckles. "Just so we're clear, I ever catch you doing some reckless stunt again, I'm going to bypass telling John and go right to blabbing it to Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes at Damien's try at manipulation. "Rrrriiiigggttt, because you know I wouldn't want Sam following my lead and thinking that him doing dares was Ok."

"Nope," Caleb cockily smiled back. "Because Sammy will soon be taller than you and he'll be able to beat your butt for putting your life in danger."

"Taller than me?!" Dean snorted. "Beat me?! Never. Gonna. Happen."

Sensing mirth between Caleb and his brother, Sam hurried his approach….. to join in on the fun, certainly not because he desperately wanted to hang out with his big brother. "What's never gonna happen?"

"Nothing," Dean said at the same time Caleb merrily announced, "That someday soon you'll be taller than him and able to beat the crap out of him for foolishly risking his life."

"Never happening," Dean firmly denied even as Sam gloated, "Yes, is so happening! And if you need a beat down now to get it through your thick skull that you're not allowed to do any more dares, Caleb and I can take you on. John and Mac can be our tag team."

Reaching out, Dean pulled Sam into an affectionate headlock. "Enough with the wrestling mania watching for you," he said, as he took to tickling his little brother.

Laughing, Sam squirmed out of Dean's hold but didn't leave his brother's side, walked shoulder to shoulder with his brother toward the motel room, with Caleb on Dean's other side. Well, his shoulder was almost up to Dean's, would be when he grew a bit.

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Mac had joined John, watched as the boys walked by them as if they were too cool to notice their fathers. He gave John a weird look when the other man asked out of the blue, "You know who Pelé is, right?"

"Yeah, greatest soccer player ever? No matter what David Beckham thinks," Mackland provided, laughed at his friend's sigh and next statement.

"How did we get so old?" John groaned, running a hand down his face.

"Years of practice," Mac shot back, earning him a snort from John Winchester which was some kind of accomplishment, especially after the day John had…they all had had.

"Tell me this gut wrenching worry for my kids will ease up when they turn 18?" John wearily asked, turning to his friend.

"You mean when they're hardly in your line of sight so you have no idea what they're doing or if they're ok, they have this delusional belief that they don't need you anymore so they stop asking your advice and they think they are invincible, can take on the evil in the world without getting a scratch?" Mac caustically parried back.

John grimaced at his friend's bleak prediction for his future mental and emotional well-being. "To quote Sam: You suck, Mac."

Mac snorted. "Truth hurts." But as they watched their sons disappear into the room in animated conversation about wrestling, he spoke, his tone as earnest as his words to Winchester, "And sometimes the truth is the only way to save those we love."

Turning to his friend, John patted Mac on the chest. "Mac ..thank you. For being here, for looking out for Dean. If I had lost him…either of them…."

"You didn't, John. They're both right here. With you," Mac assured.

"I don't deserve them," John declared, his voice raw with the weight of his love for his sons.

"That's been the consensus between Jim, Bobby and I for years," Mac lightheartedly teased back.

"Just shut up, Ames," John laughingly retorted as they started to make their way to their sons.

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While Caleb, John and Mac argued about the best pizza toppings to order from the Italian restaurant down the road, Sam slipped a hand around Dean's forearm and tugged his brother away from the group. Dean meekly went where his brother led, namely to the couch in the far corner of the room, watched as Sam lifted his coat off the couch to reveal a familiar Arizona postage stamped package.

"This is for you," Sam emphatically proclaimed as he presented the package to his brother.

Making no move to reach for what Sam offered, Dean gently said, "Sam, you don't have to give it to me." Understood now how Sam might have felt betrayed that he had helped Dad find him…the same way he had felt knowing Caleb had called his Dad about his stunts.

But Sam shook his head in denial of Dean's suggestion. "No, I got it for you…I sent it to you, Dean."

Recognizing that his brother wasn't giving it to him out of pity because he had gotten all dramatic and gone kamikaze the past few days, but instead Sam had brought it along in anticipation of presenting it to him, Dean took the package in hand and claimed a seat on the couch. Tearing open the cardboard, he pulled out something wound in bubble wrap. Hastily unwinding the wrap, he found he was holding a vinyl of AC/DC that had been painted with Angus Young doing his famous duckwalk.

Eyes flying up to his brother, Dean huskily said, "It's awesome, Sammy."

Almost shyly, Sam pointed to the discarded box. "There's a note."

Retrieving the box from the couch, Dean found a note with his brother's way-too-good-to-be-a-Winchester's handwriting.

"Dean, I'm ok and I found a place for just you and me. We can do this on our own and we wouldn't have to hunt anymore. You're the one that always takes care of us most of the time anyways. Please Dean. I believe in us. Don't you?"

A little choked at Sam's proposal for him to join him, that Sam's earlier declaration wasn't said in the heat of the moment, that Sam had wanted him with him, had never meant to leave him behind permanently. Looking up at Sam, Dean read the nervous uncertainty in his brother's eyes. "Come here, Sam," he bade even as he gently grabbed his brother's arm, pulled him down to sit on the couch beside him.

Turning on the couch to face his little brother, Dean tenderly assured, "I do, Sam. I do believe in us..but "us" as in you, me, and Dad."

Sam's eyes dropped to his hands. "I know..it's just …It's easy when it's just you and me. Dad….loves us, I know that but he's …."

Smirking, Dean offered up his description of his father, "Like a grizzly bear joining a slumber party."

Sam eyes snapped up to his brother's and he laughed at the comparison, was relieved that Dean didn't hate him and wasn't reprimanding him for how he felt about their dad. "Yeah, that's him… most of the time."

"But he's our grizzly bear," Dean empathically declared, hoped Sam understood what he was saying, that having someone in your life that loved you, it was a gift.

Sam's smile would have been answer enough for Dean. "Yeah, yeah he is." But then Sam's features took on the serious scowl Dean knew always heralded a chick-flick moment.

"Dean, I'm sorry…for running away, for making you think I didn't love you and getting you in trouble with Dad. I didn't think it all through," Sam's earnest appeal for his brother's forgiveness evident in his voice and the regret in his eyes.

"You're eleven, Sam. You don't think things through at that age," Dean graciously forgave even as he teasingly insulted his little brother. "Not to mention that you're fooled pretty easily, too. I mean, you still think wrestling is real."

"Shut up. And it is too," Sam laughingly protested, making a grab to take back his gift but Dean used his longer arm length to keep the record hopelessly out of his reach.

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Mac had left hours ago, grumbling about being unwilling to endure watching the Mets on a winning streak, even for family time. But the Winchesters and Reaves were sticking it out to the bitter end of the game. Well, ok, Sam, who had claimed a seat on the floor and had propped himself against Dean's legs in a show of unashamed affection, had been out for the past two hours. Dean, on the other hand, had lasted longer, had only slumped against his dad's shoulder in sleep half an hour ago. So it was only John from his position on the couch and Caleb from an uncomfortable chair who witnessed the Mets claim victory over the Giants.

Stretching, Caleb watched fondly as John looked down to his older son's downturned face pressed against his shoulder then down to Sam's head settled on Dean's knee. It was obvious that John hated to move and jostle Dean, and in turn, Sam. At the tender scene, Caleb felt a stab of jealousy that he and Dean hadn't gotten to spend more time together on good terms and now he had to leave. "Guess I better hit the trail," he announced as he stood up, keeping his voice at a lower octave so as to not disturb the boys.

He was surprised when John raised his leg, blocked his path to the door. "Whoa. Whoa. Where do you think you're going, Junior? You can't hang around for the high adrenaline escapades and then leave me stuck dealing with two zonked kids. Family doesn't get off that easily."

Caleb was instantly rendered mute by John's declaration that he was family, that his feelings for Dean…for Sam and John, they weren't one sided. But he didn't get a chance to revel in that before John was treating him like one of his sons and putting him to work.

"You cart Dean to bed. I'll get Sam." Then, with infinite gentleness, John lifted Dean's head from his shoulder and resettled his eldest son's slack body back against the couch. He trailed his hand from the back of Dean's neck across his son's cheek before he forced himself to break the connection and stand up. Stepping over Dean's legs, he crouched down beside Sam, "Come on, Sammy. Time for nightie, night," he softly cajoled as he jostled his youngest son's shoulder. Sam merely snuggled closer to the reassuring presence of his brother and didn't bat an eyelash.

"The hard way it is," John sighed. Slipping his hands behind Sam's back and legs, he pulled his son into his arms and stood up. As he started to carry him to the bed, Sam shifted and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't away from his father but toward him, to tuck his head down to rest it in the center of John's chest. Which made it harder for John thought it should be to settle Sam onto the bed, to give up this rare closeness with his youngest. So maybe he held onto Sam a few beats more than he had too, stood there enjoying the connection, the trust, the reality that he had gotten his son back, and not just physically but emotionally too. Accepted, then and there, that his and Sam's relationship might always be more about shouting than jokes but there would forever be love coursing under all their outward conflict. 'Just like things were with Mary and me. I did the shouting and she did the forgiving but there wasn't a time we didn't love each other.' That thought gave him the willpower to relinquish his hold on Sam and tuck him under the covers…and give him a kiss on the forehead.

Then John stole out of the room, knew Dean was in good hands with Caleb.

Stepping onto the parking lot, John looked up at the sky, beheld the stars and thanked God for having a soft spot for wayward sons…and mercy on bungling fathers who loved their children more than life itself but were crap at showing it.

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Leaning over the fifteen year old slouched on the couch, Caleb lightly tapped Dean's face, quietly taunted, "Let me see those peepers, sunshine."

Dean groggily slurred, blindly swiping at Caleb's hand, "Let me alone."

"If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times…I'm never leaving you alone, Deuce. Now come on, up and adam," Caleb bid, catching Dean's elbow and beginning to tug the kid up. But Dean was more out of it then Caleb thought, felt like he was handling a rag doll when Dean's head limply fell backwards.

Switching up his hold, Caleb braced Dean's neck with his hand and slid his arm around the boy's torso, gave a little shake to the boy now in his arms. "Dude, I am not carrying you like your daddy just carried Sam so come back to the land of the living." And his joke soured his gut the minute he said it because the last few days Dean had been close to forfeiting being in the land of the living. "Deuce?" he called out in fear because maybe Dean wasn't sleeping, maybe he was hurt worse than Mac realized ….maybe…the jerk was playing possum.

Unable to keep the ruse going any longer, Dean smirked and opened one eye to stare at Caleb. "You planning on tucking me in with a bedtime story, too?"

"Yeah, about getting away with burying smart aleck punks in Jim's back forty," Caleb shot back even as he made sure he didn't abruptly drop the kid in his hold but eased him back against the couch, remembered Dean was injured, even if the kid liked to overlook that fact. Did give Dean's uninjured leg a slap. "Haul your butt to bed before your old man finds another reason to want to throttle me."

Dean's forehead furrowed, "Another reason to what?"

Really not wanting Dean to be privy to the scene that unfolded in that very room hours ago between himself and John, Caleb deflected, "I'll use small words to not confuse you: Bed. Now. Deuce." Then he pointed to the bed like Dean would obey as readily as Jim's dog, Scout.

As if he was the psychic one, Dean grumbled, "I'm not Scout, you know," even as he pushed himself off the couch to a stand. But when he did a little stumble to try and compensate for his leg's weakness, Caleb once again was all hands, grabbed him at elbow and his side to steady him. Dean could read the worry in his friend's eyes and that big bad Damien was on the verge of offering to carry him to bed. "Relax, I'm not gonna faceplant, just needed to get my leg working again, got stiff on me," he reassured Reaves as he put more weight on his leg, was relieved that it withstood the action. But he had to hold back a grimace as he did more a hop than a step forward, his leg nor his back enjoying the jostling.

No matter how great Dean thought his acting abilities were, his pain was obvious to Caleb. Maneuvering to Dean's side, the older hunter pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder and slid his own arm around the fifteen year old's waist, but gently because he knew the bruises that marred the kid's back from neck to butt. Then he put them in motion, slowly toward the bed, said quietly, "You need to take more of Mac's pills, the muscle relaxant and the pain pills." And it was a testament to Dean's level of pain that the kid didn't protest, simply gave a nod of his head. So as soon as he safely deposited Dean onto the bed beside Sam's, Caleb headed off to the sink, returned seconds later with a glass of water and pills cupped in his hand, which Dean downed, again without complaint.

Caleb was about to cross examine Dean about his pain level when Dean shifted on the bed so he could dig something out of his jean's pocket.

Opening his hand, Dean presented Caleb's Brotherhood ring back to him.

Caleb felt his heart skip a beat as he was torn between two loyalties. But really, he had his answer, had it the second he took the ring off and relinquished it to Dean. Caleb responded with a shake of his head and an unwavering declaration of "No. I'm sticking with my choice."

But Dean couldn't let Caleb do that, not for him, not when Damien had his own mother's murder to avenge. "You'd really resign me to having Josh be my mentor? You hate me that much?" he sarcastically drawled, hoped he was handling things the right way, didn't want to hurt Caleb more than he already had the last few days.

Seeing through Dean's careless façade about something they both took seriously, Caleb met his friend's eyes with intensity and concern. "You sure you want to hunt again…I just…if you wanted me to talk to your dad…"

Dean shook his head, quietly shared the decision that he had come to sometime between the first stunt he did with Jason and his talk with his dad in the woods that day, "My mom didn't deserve to die like she did. Nobody else deserves to die because of some monster. And if I can save some people…I know it won't bring my mom back but it might make her proud."

Humbled by Dean's good heart, Damien reached out and cupped the boy's cheek, "She's already proud of you, Deuce, we all are." Let that sink in to Dean before he did his zinger. "Of course, a lot of your most endearing qualities like bravery, sharp wit, ingenuity, you learned from me."

Playfully knocking Caleb's hand from his face, Dean objected, "Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, Damien. "

But Caleb's comeback was stern and the finger he pointed at Dean was no-nonsense. "Hey, let's get one thing straight between us…Josh is not giving you advice even on what movie to watch, let alone tips on hunting." Relishing the grin Dean was instantly sporting, Caleb snatched his ring from Dean's palm and decisively slid it on his finger. "You're stuck with me, Deuce…so deal with it."

"Guess I'll muddle through having you as a mentor," Dean drawled, but couldn't manage to wipe the smirk from his features. Was so relieved that his friend wasn't given up on him, especially after the way he had treated him this week. Felt honored that the hunter he trusted, in some ways more than he did his own father, was still willing to train him so he could get his own Brotherhood ring, to help him do for strangers what he hadn't been able to do for his mother: save them from the monsters in the world.

For Caleb's part, his feelings of relief and honor that the younger boy still wanted and trusted him to be his mentor unknowingly matched Dean's. Holding Dean's green gaze, Caleb earnestly vowed, "I won't ever betray your trust in me again, Deuce. You have my word."

Not daring to open his mouth because he wasn't sure he wouldn't do something chick-like and cry, Dean nodded in acceptance of Damien's pledge. But when Caleb started to stand up, was on the precipice of leaving, Dean snagged his arm, knew there was something he needed to say yet to his friend. "Thanks for calling my Dad, for getting him and Sam to come back into town."

"They didn't come back into town, Dean. They came home to you." And with that girly statement, Caleb gave Dean a wink. Passing John on the way out the door with a nod, Caleb didn't have any qualms about leaving, knew that the Winchesters were going to be ok now…and so was he.

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Dean couldn't fight back a sappy smirk at Damien's words, silently called his friend a chick as he started to drift off to sleep. Moments later he felt tender fingers stroking his hair before his dad turned off the lamp between the double beds and bade, "Night sons."

And as free as his stunts had made Dean feel, it was way better knowing that he wasn't free, that he belonged somewhere, with someone, was needed, that whatever happened tomorrow, he wouldn't face it by himself. That he wasn't alone. Would never be alone as long as there were people in the world who cared about him, who would kick his butt if he threatened to leave them, who knew who he was soul deep…and loved him still.

So freedom? He'd pass. Because in his book, being with his family trumped freedom every single day of the week.

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The end!

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Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you to Ridley and Tidia for creating this loving, feel-good AU. And thanks so much to everyone who graciously gave a review for this story, encouraged me and showed this tale some love. Also a shout out to those who read along silently! Glad you all took the journey with me!

Have a great day!

And since it's the season….. Have a Merry Christmas!

Cheryl W.