Title: Crystal, Cookies, and Killer Tomatoes. (Brotherhood AU)

By: L. Burke

Disclaimer: I own nothing and too numerous to count. The Pooh quote is being used without permission and no profit is being made.

Summary: Healing is never simple and never easy.

Author's Notes: My contribution to the summer of fluff.

Special thanks: I'd like to thank Ridley C. James for reading this over and making numerous suggestions on the dialog in spots. Her keen eye was much appreciated.

"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together." ~Erma Bombeck

"I'm not sick."

"Oh, double, double, toil and trouble." Pastor Jim Murphy shot him an amused look over the large steaming pot he was stirring. Caleb's feverish mind was drawing up visions of Merlin stirring his magic caldron. "Of course you're not sick. You're just a wee bit under the weather, as my Grandma Murphy used to say. That's why we're making soup for dinner."

"Exactly," Caleb growled and coughed. He stamped his foot. "My father didn't need to dump me here for you to baby-sit. I don't need anyone to take care of me. I can pull my own weight."

Six year-old Dean Winchester handed Jim a bunch of carrots and then signed in Sign Language, 'He sounds sick to me.'

Caleb glared at the little boy and croaked, "Thing One, you stay out of this."

Dean shot Caleb an innocent look and then added with a quick gesture of his hands, 'And grumpy'.

"I put up with you," Caleb fired back at the six-year old. "That always makes me grumpy."

"Ah, thank you," Jim said to Dean as he took the offered carrots and started cutting them up. "We can't have respectable chicken noodle soup without lots of carrots. Now could you find the onion for me? I need the big one."

"I don't like soup." Caleb sniffed.

'I like soup,' Dean signed to Jim.

Jim ruffled the little boys' hair. "So do I."

Caleb sent another glare in Dean's direction. "What did I tell you about staying out of this? And you do NOT like soup. Last time I tried serving it to you for dinner you refused to eat it, you brat. You only conned Jim in to making soup tonight because you think I'm sick."

'Did not. Sammy likes soup.'

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest and gestured to the youngest Winchester strapped in to his highchair. "Thing Two, doesn't get a vote. Sammy likes to wear his Cheerios. Besides I caught this crud from the diapered germ bag."

Dean blinked confused. 'But you're not sick?'

"Precisely," Caleb replied.

Sammy's response was to throw a handful of food straight up at the ceiling.

Jim studied the ceiling and tapped his chin with his wood spoon. "Someday Mackland is going to explain the physics of how Samuel manages to get food to stick like that." Then the pastor shook his head and looked down at Dean. "Where were we again?"

Dean replied, 'Onions'

"Not listening to me and not making me soup," Caleb snarled.

"Ah yes, we were at onions," Jim replied ignoring Caleb. Then he addressed the youngest Winchester, "What do you think? Should I add some cayenne pepper for Caleb's congestion?"

"I am NOT congested," Caleb sniffled.

Sammy replied by throwing more food at the ceiling and then dumped his bowl over his head.

"Excellent choice, Samuel" Jim chirped happily as Dean handed him a large onion from the refrigerator. "I agree. Live dangerously. A little heat never hurt anyone. We could even throw in a little eye of newt and wing of bat."

Maybe it was being sick.

Perhaps it was the feeling of suddenly being helpless.

Caleb didn't know where the sudden anger came bubbling up from but the next thing he knew a metal bowl was hitting the floor. He'd been blowing up over the stupidest things recently. "I told Mac, I didn't need a babysitter! I don't need anyone to take care of me!" Then Caleb spit out with particular venom directed at Jim. "I don't need anyone. Why can't all of you just leave me alone!"

With that Caleb turned on his heel and fled the kitchen.

Caleb woke a while later when someone placed a cool towel on his forehead. He opened his eyes to meet a set of jade green ones.

"I told you to leave me alone."

"You also told me not to eat your slice of Butterscotch Pie," the six year old shrugged. "I didn't listen to that too."

"Oh joy," Caleb croaked. "What do you want?"

"I was worried. I'm checking up on you," the little boy informed him matter-of-fact.

"If you don't leave me alone," Caleb muttered,"I'm going to tell the adults you ARE talking. Just not to them. What the hell was I thinking when I coaxed you on to talk?" Caleb closed his eyes when Dean applied the cool cloth to his forehead again. "When are you planning on actually speaking to the grown-up's anyway?"

"When I'm ready," Dean replied softly. "I like my quiet place."

Caleb grimaced. Thinking of the days Dean still spent 'going to his quiet place' catatonic and completely unresponsive to the world around him. It terrified him, even if Caleb wouldn't admit it. Any time Caleb had tried to reach in to yank Dean back all he had gotten was the impression of this vast glacier ice field. "No thanks. I really wish you'd stop going there."

The little boy tilted his head and nodded. "Sammy does too. It makes him sad."

"Then stop." He almost kicked himself for how it sounded like a plea.

"I don't do it on purpose. It just happens. Besides, I talk to my friend there" Dean shook his head. "She told me that you were going to get angry and yell a lot but it was a good thing."

Caleb sat up slowly. He closed his eyes when the room started spinning. "Yeah, well, your imaginary friend doesn't make a lot of sense. I'm fine."

"She said it scares you when you need other people to take care of you. You like to do it yourself just in case..."

Caleb blinked, unwillingly drawn in by the intense green gaze. "Just in case?"

"In case you're all alone again." Dean tilted his head. "But that's not going to happen. Right?" Deuce studied him with eyes that were too old and too ancient to belong to a six year-old. "You're always fine, even when it's not true."

"So are you."

"No I'm not," Dean replied. "The world gets too loud. That's why I go hide in my quiet place and talk to my friend. I told Mac I didn't want to take the new medicine. I won't take it even if Dad makes me."

"You do realize the doctor doesn't think you're going to get better without it."

Dean stuck his chin out. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"You can't control it and the adults are frightened you'll get lost. They're scared you won't be able to find your way back to us. That's why they want you to take the new medicine."

"No."

"Deuce," Caleb rubbed his hand over his face. His head hurt. Talking to Dean about this subject always gave him a headache. He was too tired and feeling too miserable to get in the debate about catatonic states and imaginary, surrogate mother figures.

"Sammy leads me back."

Caleb sighed, closed his eyes and leaned up against the head board. "Is there some reason you woke me up?"

"I brought you juice." The six year-old replied, handed Caleb a glass, and climbed up on the bed next to Caleb. Caleb had to steady the near overflowing glass before the juice went all over him and the bed. "Jim says you need to drink plenty of fluid."

"Just like your ice friend says I need to get angry or else I won't get better?" Caleb replied sarcastically.

Those very old green eyes studied him again. "You're mad, Damien. But that's okay. I know you're not mad at me. It means you're finally feeling safe and getting better."

"Nice to know."

The six year-old gave him an annoyed look. "Drink your juice."

Caleb took a sip and blanched when the juice hit the back of his sore throat. Then he smirked at Dean. "Does this little heart-to-heart mean we're now buddies?"

"Don't push it," the six year-old warned.

Caleb blinked his eyes dramatically. "And since we are partners that would mean I get some of the cherry, chocolate, nut cookies Jim and you bake sometimes?"

"Touch them, and I'll bite you again."

He couldn't help it. Deuce's chain was fun to yank. Verbal sparring with the brat was quickly becoming a favorite game. "It could even mean, "Caleb coughed out, "I could hug you in public."

Deuce huffed. "I don't care if you're sick. You start the yucky stuff and I'll break skin this time. You'll get my cooties and die."

"I know you can't help yourself about wanting a chunk of me, Deuce. Every one does. I'm luscious."

"Keep it up, Jerkface. Dad said it was okay to bite IF it's you."

"Johnny loves me."

"Keep telling yourself that, Dork. Drink your juice, or I'm telling Jim." The six year-old squirmed off the bed. "I have a gift for you."

Caleb watched as Deuce went in to his room across the hallway and pulled a box out from under his bed. The six year-old carefully pulled a smaller box out, put it on the floor next to him, and then slid the bigger box back under the bed.

"What is it?" He asked when Dean came back in to the room, handed him a box, and climbed back up on the bed next to him.

"I found it by the lake." Dean informed him. The six year-old must have read his unsure expression. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Umm… Sure," Caleb muttered as he fingered the box uncertainly. He really wasn't very comfortable receiving gifts. It made him feel exposed on some level. "You didn't have to do this."

"My ice friend said finding some would help you keep the bad voices out of your head when you sleep." Dean studied him and those ancient eyes were back. "I found it and thought of you."

Caleb opened the lid.

Inside was a hunk of brown-gold quartz crystal. It was near gem quality crystal except for the streak of darkness through it and the noticeable fault that ran through the center of it.

Yeah, that would pretty much sum him up.

The first time in years of deadness something simmered to the surface. He hadn't felt anything since the night the police officers pried him from his mother's cooling body. Today Deuce's innocent honesty hurt. Caleb would have preferred staying numb.

Dean blinked in confusion. "Don't you like it?"

Caleb plastered a fake smile on his face and slammed the lid to the box back on. "Ah…It's great. Thanks."

The six year-old was looking visibly upset. Deuce climbed down off the bed. "I thought you'd like it. Why are you sad?"

"You know, Deuce? I'm still not feeling great." Caleb placed the box on the bedside table next to him. "I'm really tried."

With that Caleb rolled on his side towards the wall and went to sleep.

He never answered Dean's question of, "What did I do?"

Later Caleb was awoken by Jim Murphy muttering,

"Pooh looked at his two paws. He knew that one of them was the right, and he knew that when you had decided which one of them was the right, then the other was the left, but he never could remember how to begin." Then the pastured sighed under his breath, "Story of my life. Where to begin. Where to begin."

Caleb rolled over, opened one eye, only to find Jim looking for something in his closet.

"What are you doing?" He croaked out softly.

Then he cringed when the Pastor straightened up in surprise and rammed the top of his head straight in to the underside of the closet shelf.

Jim turned, climbed out of the closet very carefully, and rubbed his head with a flinch. The pastor touched his head, checked for a lump and replied, "It's nice to see you up my dear boy. How are you feeling?"

Caleb sat up and shot him an apologetic look and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Better. What are looking for?"

The Pastor gestured to the trash can next to him, "Dean's food stockpiles." Jim shot him a sheepish look. "By the way? Pooh before bed? Not my wisest of ideas. A little shot of wisdom for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Caleb croaked softly.

"Please do," the Pastor replied. "It took me a good hour to calm Dean and Sammy down after my little Pooh Bear disaster. Nevertheless, Dean's hoards of feathers and bolts I have no problems with. The food and half-eaten peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches he stashes around the house on the other hand..." Jim sighed. "It's an issue Mackland, John, and I am trying to deal with." Jim held something up wrapped in aluminum foil and shot Caleb a horrified look. "Does this look like what was once a Happy Meal Hamburger to you?"

"Dean's not some kind of crazy kleptomaniac." Caleb felt his back stiffen. He'd seen the system chew kids up like Dean and spit them out because adults wouldn't understand. He'd heard John talking to Mac. It only proved to Caleb you couldn't trust adults.

"I never said Dean was," Jim replied calmly and he threw the packet in to his garbage can. "Now why would you think that?"

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. "Because adults always do. It's either throw um' in Juvy Hall to cage them or throw um' on the meds to make them docile and manageable. Deuce just gets…overly…attached to things."

"I see," Jim answered thoughtfully as he sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"No you don't. So don't patronize me," Caleb ground out. "It's about feeling safe. Deuce doesn't trust the dark not to come back and take all of you away like it did his mom. He's afraid of being alone with no one to love him. That's why he doesn't like to talk and collects stuff other people throw in the garbage. He's scared he's going to be one of those objects people toss away someday. So he saves stuff and tries to find new uses for junk he collects. It's his way of trying to prove he's useful."

"Let me guess," the pastor crossed his fingers over his stomach, leaned back in the chair, and put his socked feet up on Caleb's bed. "He thinks there's something wrong with him. That he's some how fundamentally flawed and that's why the tragedy happened to his family to begin with?"

Caleb found the quilt pattern of his Grandmother's quilt suddenly fascinating. Jim hit a little too close at times. He pulled the quilt a little tighter around him. He did that instead of meeting Jim's eyes. "Something like that. But it doesn't make Deuce crazy."

"I never implied it did."

Caleb's angry eyes met Jim's. "Of course not, that's why I heard John and Mac talking about Deuce's great-grandmother the one who landed in the mental institution."

Jim ran a tired hand over his face. "We'll sit down and discuss what you think you overheard later when you're feeling a little better. You want to tell me what happened between you and Dean earlier?" Jim asked gently. "All I know is Dean is very upset. He didn't touch his dinner."

"I guess I was a jerk," Caleb sniffled. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings."

Jim reached over and handed him a box of tissues from the bedside table. "And?"

He shot Jim an appreciative look, took a tissue and blew his nose. "Deuce was talking about his quiet place and his imaginary 'friend' again."

The pastor nodded, "Ah, always a touchy subject between the two of you. So what did Dean's imaginary friend have to say?"

"That I was going to get angry and yell a lot but it was a good thing." Then he huffed and looked up at Jim. "How stupid is that?"

The pastor shot him an amused look. "I guess that would depend entirely on what my poor bowl did to deserve getting knocked across the kitchen."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Caleb said softly as he looked down to study his quilt again. "I don't mean for that to happen. I just… I just… felt out of control there for a moment."

"I know. It just happens sometimes. Is that what happened between you and Dean?" The pastor probed.

"What?" Caleb's head shot up. "No. I didn't get mad and yell at Deuce if that's what you're implying."

"So what did happen?"

"Deuce, gave me a gift," Caleb sighed and looked up. "I think I hurt his feelings. It was a crappy gift but the kid's heart was in the right place."

"Dean's heart usually is," Jim stated softly. "May I see what he gave you?"

Caleb reached over and handed the pastor the box.

Jim opened it and held the crystal up to inspect. "What's wrong with it? It's lovely."

"I guess," Caleb muttered. "I'm not in to the crystal mojo. Josh even announced I'm hopeless at it too."

The pastor shot him an irritated look. "If I remember correctly you weren't the most enthusiastic of students either."

"Yeah, yeah, so John lectured me afterward. Never ignore useful information just because you don't like the source." Caleb grumbled. "Josh is still a jerk."

"Smoky Quartz," the pastor stated as he held the crystal up to the light to inspect a little closer. Then he shot Caleb an ironic look. "A stone held sacred by the ancient Druids. It is said to represent the element water. The ancients actually believed it was water turned to stone and that's what gave the stone its smoky hue and power."

"It's just not my type of thing" Caleb mumbled. "It could be a chunk of Kryptonite for all I care."

"I see," Jim replied as his ocean-blue eyes studied Caleb. "Are you sure this isn't about something else?"

"What's that supposed to me?" Caleb felt himself get defensive. He suddenly felt cornered. If you can't run, get pissed. John Winchester 101.

"Lets' see, Dean gave you what he thought was an amazing, precious gift." Jim raised an eyebrow and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "So by your logic there must be something wrong with it, because deep down you think you can't be worthy of something precious like that. You feel you're worthless and inadequate and so this stone must somehow be hideously flawed. To believe anything else, that you are worthy of this wonderful gift, means opening yourself up to being hurt and that scares you."

"Stop it," Caleb spat as he scooted on to the far side of the bed. "And don't tell me what you think I feel. It pisses me off." Then he glared at the pastor. "And look at the damned stone. It's got a major flaw in the center of it."

"I suppose it does," Jim shook his head sadly. "The funny thing is I don't think Dean ever noticed. He was too taken by the rainbows it cast when he held it up to the light." Then the pastor tossed him the crystal as he got up, picked up his trash can, and headed towards the door.

It was a soft whimper that woke Caleb later.

He recognized the sound.

"Deuce?" he whispered softly as he threw the covers aside and jumped out of bed.

Caleb ran in to Sam and Dean's room only to find the little boy curled up in a tight ball on the far edge of his bed. The signs of the little boy's distress were obvious. "Deuce?"

Dean didn't respond. Only whimpered again, as he curled up tighter, caught up in his nightmare.

Caleb shot a quick look to the crib across the room. Sam slept on unaware of his older brother's distress.

He shook the six year-old's shoulder trying to shake him away. "Come on, Kiddo. Wake up."

Dean's eyes suddenly snapped open.

Caleb grabbed Dean's shoulders and shook him a little firmer this time. "Look at me, Deuce. It was just a bad dream."

Dean's only response was to shake his head 'no' repeatedly. The six year-old started struggling and clawing at himself drawing blood. Caleb doubted if the six year-old even knew where he was.

"Stop it." Caleb ordered as he grabbed Dean's hands to keep the child from harming himself. Not making a sound Dean reacted by a sudden explosion of ferocity that nearly knocked both of them off the bed. Dodging a well placed kick towards the family jewels, Caleb carefully maneuvered and wrestled both of them off the bed and on to the floor. On the floor he didn't have to worry about Dean hitting his head on the edge of the bedside table on the way down.

Trying to hold on to Dean and wrestle him on to his back to pin him was like trying to grasp on to a greased bobcat. Caleb grunted when he felt a few of the blows connect. He was pretty sure he was bleeding in some places where nails had managed to dig in. The way his lip was stinging he was going to be wearing a split lip in the morning.

It didn't matter.

"Come on, Deuce. Son of a bitch! Snap out of it." It came out sounding more like a plea and not an order. This nightmare was too intense and was lasting way too long. "Look at me. You're safe."

He was trying to figure out what happened when Caleb smelt it.

Wood smoke.

The fragrance had drifted in through the open bedroom window on the night breeze.

Oh, shit.

"Damn it, Deuce. Wake up."

The only response he got was a wail of pure heartbreak, and agony erupting from Dean. That was followed by a new wave of struggling.

"Caleb?" The light flicked on and Jim was there next to him. Grabbing Dean and helping Caleb stop Dean from hurting himself. "Flashback?" The Guardian was nothing but cool calm business.

"I think so," Caleb replied as he cringed as Dean's small fist connected with Jim's cheek with enough force to send Jim reeling. The pastor was going to have a shiner in the morning.

Suddenly Dean went still in their arms.

There was awareness in the green depths.

Jim loosened his grip. "Dean?"

The six year-old nodded.

The pastor let go.

The next thing Caleb was aware of was Dean latched on to him alike a barnacle to a ship hull. The little boy was shaking in his arms and crying silently. The six year-old was slowly making his way across the room and dragging Caleb along towards the far corner like a wounded animal trying to reach its den.

Jim must have noted how Dean was desperately trying to shy away from him. "Why don't I take Samuel and meet you both down stairs?"

Caleb nodded. He could still feel Dean shaking in his arms. He ran a comforting hand through Dean's mop of blonde hair. His grandmother always did it for him after a nightmare. "Put some mint tea on too." Caleb remembered how intense the nightmares had been after his parents had died. They had actually made his stomach hurt.

Jim nodded. Then he quickly got up, scooped a sleepy Sammy up, and headed out of the room. "Bring Dean down when he's ready."

After Jim left they simply sat there for while. Caleb rubbing soothing circles in Deuce's back as the little boy continued to shake and silently sob in his arms. He muttered, "Ssshh, its okay. It was only a dream."

Dean sniffled in his arms and hiccupped. "I thought you were mad at me." It was no more than a whisper.

Caleb sighed.

He really was shit at apologizing.

"Nah," he muttered as he continued to rub the circles on Dean's back. "Look at me, Deuce. After my parents..." He couldn't say 'died'. "My grandmother camped out in my bedroom for a real long time after I came to live with her. What happened tonight is normal."

"I want my mom back."

"I know. God, do I know," Caleb replied. He'd love to say it got better with time but he refused to lie to the kid. "You want to tell me about that dream?"

"No."

"Hey, think of me as a trial run for Jim," Caleb muttered as he pulled Dean a little closer. "You know he's going to insist on the whole comfort, talk, and Oreo cookies thing."

"It was a memory," green eyes met his. "We were at the hospital…after Mom…and….Dad couldn't breathe."

Caleb remembered Mac told him that's how they knew for certain the Winchesters had tangled with a powerful demon, the sulfur residue in the air John had inhaled had been enough to irritate his lungs to the point they filled with fluid and caused a secondary drowning like condition. Within twenty-four hours after his wife was murdered, and his house burned, John Winchester had been on a respirator fighting for his life.

"The doctors took Dad away and they wouldn't let me see him. Then… then…"

"They took Sammy away from you," Caleb finished for him.

Dean didn't meet his eyes but nodded in to his shoulder. "I fought them but I wasn't strong enough. I promised Dad I'd take care of Sammy. Later I woke up in this room and I didn't know how I got there. I didn't know where Dad or Sammy was. I thought they were gone like my mom." Deuce let out a little whimper, "I begged them to let me out so I could look for my Dad. But I must have been bad when I wouldn't give Sammy to them."

They were waiting for a case worker to arrive and a psyche evaluation, Caleb thought bitterly. He knew the drill too well.

"They wouldn't let me out," the six year-old sobbed. "So I went away to my quiet place."

"Ssshh, its okay," Caleb soothed. He hoped John ripped a few people a new one when he got the chance. "You think you're ready to go down stairs and face Jim's hugs and yucky, mushy stuff now?"

Dean didn't say anything but shook his head. "I hate hugs. I don't want anyone to touch me."

"Yeah, but Jim's got Oreo cookies. Oreo cookies chase nightmares away. Especially the cream filling, it has magical powers."

"You're sick. Mac said you're not supposed to eat cookies when you're sick." Dean looked up at him. "I'm sorry you didn't like your gift. I'll try to do better next time."

"Your gift was great," Caleb sighed. "Jim pointed out to me I'm just not very good at receiving them." He slowly got up. He offered Deuce a hand up and helped the little boy to his feet. "I'll bet it won't take too much to con Jim in to letting us stay up, firing up the new VCR and watching 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes'."

The jade eyes looking back at him held a glimmer of interest. "Is that a scary movie?"

"Are you scared of tomatoes now?"

Dean looked down at the floor and shook his head no.

"Trust me Deuce. You won't be scared of them after this movie either. Then after that we'll read Frog and Toad."

Dean looked up. "Frog and Toad?"

Caleb nodded, and knelt down so he could look Deuce straight in the eye. "Yup. You'll see Frog and Toad were very different but still best friends."