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trekkiehood · 8 months ago

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Fandom: Supernatural (Brotherhood) Rating: K+/PG Words: 4.5k Characters: Caleb Reaves & Dean Winchester Notes: Sick Dean. Weechesters. Past Medical Trauma.

Summary: A hospital visit with a very sick Dean Winchester unlocks less than pleasant memories for all involved. (Brotherhood AU)

"Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” - Psalm 82:3-4 (ESV)

Greeting!

Been working on this one for a couple of weeks. Finally found the time to edit it. Call it an Easter present.

Which brings me to timeline. This is Caleb's spring break when he's sixteen but I put it there before remembering that "Crucifixion and Kryptonite" by Ridley takes place that same Easter. So. We're saying that Caleb has a two week spring break and this is at the beginning and that fic is at the end lol.

This is kind of a sequel to my story "Meant for Good" so while it's not strictly necessary to read it, it would certainly be helpful.

There's nothing to graphic but it does deal with sickness and medical trauma so be warned.

Please enjoy!

~TH~

Dean wasn’t okay.

That was Caleb’s first thought upon waking in a cold sweat.

His bed sheet twisted around his foot, nearly causing him to faceplant at his attempt to escape the bed.

John had dropped Sam and Dean off two nights ago. Dean hadn’t been feeling well and with Mac having come to drop Caleb off at the Farm for his early Spring Break, it made the most sense. John would likely return at the end of the month for the actual Easter Service. It was a good thing he’d dropped them off. It wasn’t even two hours later that Dean began throwing up. Caleb didn’t want to think about what would have happened had the boys been left alone in a crappy motel room when it started.

At first Mac had thought that it was just a stomach bug, quarantining Dean to his bedroom. But the longer it lasted the more he became convinced that it was food poisoning. Unsurprising considering the life that the Winchester’s lived.

But the kid was okay. Was sick a lot. Had trouble keeping down the anti-nausea meds. But it had been close to forty-eight hours now and the worst was over. Now the eight year old was sleeping safely in his bed. Or was supposed to be.

Caleb opened the door that connected his room to the boys’. It was dark, but the shine of a Ninja Turtle night light allowed him to make out an empty bed. The panic that had awoken him swelled as he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on the small body collapsed on the floor.

“Deuce?” He quickly came forward, kneeling down. When there was no response, he reached out a hand, feeling his own anxiety echo around him, threatening to pull him under like the ocean waves that still caused nightmares. The kid was burning up. “Dad!” He called out, searching for a pulse. It was there. Fast, but there. “Dean, hey, come on buddy, wake up for me.” He lightly patted Dean’s face before once again shouting for his father.

Despite the great heat, Dean was barely sweating. His skin was dry, his breaths coming out in small puffs of air.

“Mac!” he called out again just as the door swung open.

“I’m here, Caleb, what’s wrong.” The doctor was disheveled, hair a mess and still in his nightclothes. Despite this, he quickly took in the situation, kneeling across from his son. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I felt something was wrong and when I came to check on him he was like this.”

Mac frowned, checking vitals with a skilled hand.

“Dad?”

“Hand me the thermometer.”

Caleb glanced up, seeing the thermometer resting on the nightstand.

It was uncomfortable watching Mac force Dean’s mouth open and then holding it shut. It was a necessary evil, but it made Caleb bite his lip to keep silent.

Of course Dean would choose that moment to come around.

He jerked his head away, groaning as his eyes became tiny slits for only a moment, before squeezing them together.

“Dean, it’s alright.” Mac lightly readjusted his head. “I’m taking your temperature. Don’t fight me.”

His breathing sped up as his eyes cracked open, still attempting to evade the doctor’s grasp.

Caleb leaned over, capturing the kid’s attention while Mac pulled out the thermometer.

“You with us Deuce?”

He didn’t answer, but stopped fighting, blinking as if trying to clear the glassy stare.

“Dad?” He shot his eyes up to his father who was frowning deeply at the thermometer.

“103. Will you go get me a glass of water.”

It was not a good idea for him to leave. For him or for Dean. “But Dad-”

“I’ll do it.” Both looked up, unsure when the pastor had appeared in the doorway. Mac didn’t acknowledge his appearance, but nodded his thanks.

Caleb placed his hand against Dean’s cheek. The boy leaned into the cool touch.

“‘M hot.” Dean whimpered, finally breaking his eerie silence.

Mac nodded to himself, seeming relieved that the boy had spoken.

“What are you doing out of bed, Deuce?” Caleb used his other hand to smooth back Dean’s disheveled hair.

“Couldn’ find Sammy.” He mumbled before his eyes snapped open, weakly pushing at the ground in an attempt to sit up. “Where-”

“Easy,” Caleb offered, gently pressing him back down. “He stayed with Pastor Jim tonight, remember? You didn’t want to get him sick.” Food poisoning wasn’t contagious, but it had been the only way to get Dean to agree to let his brother out of his sight.

“Dean, do you remember what happened?”

“Dizzy.” He whispered, licking his lips. “Head hurts.”

Mac smiled softly, clearly pushing away his no-nonsense doctor persona to offer Dean some comfort. Despite the reassuring manner, Mac began lightly feeling along Dean’s head. Clearly trying to find any problems that might have arisen from the fall.

Jim returned, remaining silent as he passed the water to Mac.

“Caleb, will you help Dean sit up?”

“You ready to try and move?” Caleb addressed to Dean.

The boy nodded, clearly regretting it as his eyes screwed shut. He let out a shaky breath before opening them again. “Yeah.” He tried again.

Caleb highly doubted that, but his father gave a tightlipped nod.

Dean pressed his hands against the floor, starting to push up. Caleb came up behind him, supporting his back and letting him lean up against him. The small movement seemed to exhaust him.

Mac moved the glass next to Dean’s mouth, “Can you take a sip for me?”

Dean turned his face away, pressing further into Caleb. “Sick.”

“I know, but I need to see if you can keep water down. You’re dehydrated.”

The whimper that was Dean’s response had all of Caleb’s protective instincts going off.

“Dean,” The doctor's voice was gentle but stern. “If you can’t keep the water down then we’ll have to go to the hospital. You’re sick.”

“No.”

And Caleb knew that Dean was only eight. Eight-year-olds whined and complained and even cried. Especially when they were sick. But this was so unlike Dean. He always acted so much older, so much more put together. But Caleb had never seen this Dean before. Dean became sullen or angry. He didn’t whimper. Or Cry. Or bury himself in your shoulder.

“Dad?” His panic that had only just begun to calm now seemed to double.

Mac moved the glass away with a sigh. “Carry him to the car, I’ll-”

“No!” Dean sat up. “No I don’t wanna go!”

“It’s alright, Deuce.” Caleb hated hospitals more than most and he wasn’t thrilled with the fact that they were going. But he was more terrified about what was happening with Dean.

“If you can drink this,” Mac held up the glass, using his best negotiating voice. “Without getting sick, then we can wait. But you need to prove to me that you can drink this, okay?”

Dean nodded, but was shaking when he reached out for the glass. “Let me, Dean.” Mac lifted the glass to his lips and Dean took a tentative sip. “Slowly.”

Only a few sips were managed before Mac pulled the glass away. “Let’s let that sit for a moment, okay?”

Dean closed his eyes, once again leaning into Caleb who lightly stroked his hair.

It didn’t take long to realize that Dean wouldn’t be able to keep even that small amount down.

Mac reached for the basin, barely shoving it into place before Dean lost his battle.

The only thing in his stomach was the water, and yet the retching and gagging lasted almost five minutes. Caleb rubbed his back, trying to comfort him while avoiding his own gag reflex. By the time he was done, there were tears streaming down Dean’s face. He collapsed back into Caleb, clearly fighting sobs.

The panic he was feeling was well warranted. Mac’s face confirmed that.

“Jim, can you grab my keys?”

“No! Please! I don’t want to!” Dean choked on a sob, curling further into Caleb. He could feel the heat radiating off of the small body, burning through Caleb’s clothes and making him feel overheated.

“It’s okay, Deuce.” He tried to hide his own panic behind the comforting words. “Just a quick little trip. We’ll be back before you know it.”

The shaking increased as he rapidly shook his head. His breaths were shallow and panicked. “Damien, please don’t make me go.”

He looked helplessly towards his father, his heart wanting to give in, but his head knowing that Mac was right. Dean was sick. Very sick.

“Caleb will come with us, Dean. You’re sick and I don’t have what I need to make you better here. It will still be me taking care of you. And we’ll come right back when you’re better.”

The boy shook his head. “I promise I’ll be good. I promise. Don’t make me go.”

Caleb frowned. “You’re not in trouble, Deuce. You’re sick.”

Jim joined the trio. Caleb had forgotten he was there, but now he crouched down, taking Dean’s hands in his own and drawing the boy’s attention. He nodded to Mac, and the doctor stood, presumably going to grab the keys.

“Dean, my boy, you’ve been very sick I see.”

The boy’s lips quivered as he nodded.

“Well we need you to get better. And to do that you’ve got to go where Mac can help you.”

He rocked his head back and forth. “But-”

“Sam will stay safe here with me. And you’ll come right back to us when you’re all better, okay?”

“I want to see Sammy.” That at least sounded like Dean.

Jim smiled, glancing at Caleb. “I think that can be arranged.”

Caleb gathered the boy in his arms, cautiously standing. Dean seemed even lighter than usual. He was already small for his age and had probably lost half his weight over the last forty-eight hours.

Sam had somehow managed to sleep through all of the excitement. Dean stayed clutched to Caleb as he watched his brother sleep.

“He’ll worry about me.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that you’re okay. I’ll take care of him. Do you think I’m up for the job?”

Dean frowned as if weighing the statement. “I guess.”

“I won’t let you down Dean.” Jim smiled softly. “Now, you focus on getting better, okay?”

Dean didn’t answer, burying himself into Caleb.

The older boy took this as his cue to leave.

Mac had already started the car as Caleb slipped into the open back seat. Caleb tried to set Dean down in order to buckle him up, but Dean dug his fingers into Caleb’s shirt, refusing to let him go. He really didn’t have it in him to fight the kid on this one.

Caleb caught his dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I called it in. They should be waiting for us.”

The fact that Mac elected to go to the ER instead of the local clinic had fear warring with relief. Clearly Mac thought that they would be okay for the longer trip, but it also meant that he wanted the better stocked hospital at his disposal.

The ride was almost completely silent. The occasional sniffling of Dean in his lap caused him to clutch the eight-year-old tighter.

Mac actually parked instead of swinging around the front, another sign that Dean wasn’t in any immediate danger. He carried Dean in, the boy's legs wrapped around him, clutching tightly to the front of Caleb’s shirt. The air was cool in the dead of night, but Caleb was becoming overheated due to the fevered Dean pressed against him.

Once inside the hospital, Mac spoke quietly with the front desk clerk. The waiting room was practically empty. Apparently New Haven and the surrounding areas weren’t a hot bed of spring break activity.

“This way son,” The doctor returned to them, leading them to one of the back cubicles.

Now Caleb hated hospitals, his own fear could be paralyzing at times. When it mixed with the absolute terror rolling off of Dean it became nearly unbearable. He gently sat Dean on the bed, but the boy refused to release the hold he had on Caleb’s shirt.

“It’s all right, Deuce.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Just let Mac take care of you.”

Mac had set up the IV while Dean was distracted, but now came to the bed, standing across from Caleb.

“Dean,”

The boy in question, looked to Caleb, waiting for the reassuring nod before he released Caleb with one hand, allowing himself to roll slightly towards Mac. As soon as he saw the IV line his breath caught, scooting so far toward Caleb that he almost fell off of the bed.

“This is just an IV.” Mac continued slowly, as if speaking to a wounded animal. “You’re dehydrated. We need to get some fluids in you. It will make you feel better.”

Dean vehemently shook his head, panicked gasps of air coming out as he tried to fall further into Caleb.

“Woah, woah, hey.” Caleb hushed quietly. He lifted Dean, allowing enough room for Caleb to squeeze underneath him and join him on the bed. “What’s going on dude. Talk to me.”

Dean didn’t answer, returning to his previous position with both hands clasped tightly in Caleb’s shirt, face pressed into the older boy’s shoulder.

The boy was shaking, tiny panicked gasps, the only sound in the eerie quiet.

“Dad?” He ventured, unsure of what to do or say.

Mac’s lips pressed together. “We don’t have a choice, Caleb. I wish there was another way, but if we don’t find a way to hydrate him…” He sighed. “Dean, son, I promise it will be okay. You’ll barely feel it.”

If Dean had a thing about needles neither of them had noticed it up until now.

“I’m sorry.” Dean finally spoke again. “I’m sorry, I promise I'll be good.”

“Deuce-”

“Dean, you're not in trouble.” Mac frowned.

The boy pushed away just enough to look Caleb in the eye. “I’ll keep talking, I promise I’ll keep talking.”

Caleb couldn’t seem to get his mouth to work. He sat there, slack jaw, unable to look away from the eight-year-old’s wide, tear filled eyes. Before he could come up with anything to say, the visions assaulted him.

It wasn’t a full story. Flashes of images he could only place because he knew. He’d been there. The bright rainbow painted on the wall. Unintelligible condescending tones. Hands holding him down as they insert an IV. Bright fluorescent lights. The ominous click of locking industrial doors. Overwhelming emotions of fear and pain and alone.

Caleb came out of it, chest heaving. Dean’s wide eyes were on him, seeming to match Caleb’s panicked breaths.

“Caleb. Breathe.” He snapped towards the voice. His father was watching him, lips pressed together in concern. “You need to calm down. Let Dean know that everything is going to be okay.”

The kid was getting his cues from Caleb. If he seemed worried, Dean would too. He took a brief moment to bring his own emotions under control.

“Hey, hey Deuce, look at me, okay? It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s not like that. It’s not like… there.”

“It makes me feel bad, Damien. I don’t like it. Please.”

“Deuce, I promise, it’s not like that. Please. Do you trust me?”

Dean looked at him, the tears finally broke free, falling down his cheeks. Caleb almost lost his resolve. If he could, he would take the IV for him. He’d take all of it for him.

After a long moment, Dean fell back into Caleb, his left hand slowly released Caleb’s shirt. He hesitated another moment, burying his face further, before finally rolling over enough to offer his hand to Mac.

“Thank you, Dean.” The doctor said sincerely.

Caleb readjusted Dean so that he could be more comfortable as Mac worked. It always disturbed him how quietly Dean cried. He almost never did. But all kids cried, the biggest difference with Dean is that he didn’t want people to know.

When kids cried, they wanted you to know. Even Sam would wail in the hopes of getting someone’s attention or because he didn’t get his way or to make a point. But Dean cried silently. Like he was afraid someone would find out. Afraid someone would hear and know that he had feelings. That he was human. Even now, shaking, terrified out of his mind, he was silent. The only sound, an occasionally hitched breath.

Caleb rubbed his back as Mac placed Dean’s hand back on Caleb’s chest. Dean didn’t move it. Didn’t say anything. His right hand was still intertwined with Caleb’s shirt, but now clenched and released the shirt in a steady rhythm.

The IV was in the back of Dean’s hand, tape and gauze holding it in place. Dean didn’t even look at it, didn’t move it. Like it wasn’t even a part of him anymore.

Dean had promised he would keep talking, but he must have decided the deal was off.. No matter how hard Caleb and Mac tried to get him to open up, he remained silent.

“I believe it’s just dehydration. He’s not sick anymore. Between the dehydration and irritated stomach he wasn’t able to keep anything down. I think once we get through the IV he’ll be fine. I can run some tests if I need to but I think it’s best to wait for now.”

Dean didn’t react, keeping with the obsessive clenching of Caleb’s shirt. Caleb wasn’t even sure if Dean was hearing them. But kids heard and understood more than adults ever seemed to give them credit for. This ordeal proved it.

Caleb felt kind of dazed himself. He knew that Dean had been outpatient at Brooklyn. That the admittance process was nearly complete when Mac stepped in. But Dean had never mentioned it. The Triad seemed convinced that Dean was too young to remember. Too shell shocked to comprehend what was going on around him. But he did. They had confused silence with catatonic. Caleb had gotten just a glimpse of what Dean remembered and it was nothing good. Enshrouded in fear and pain and yes confusion, but not because he wasn’t aware. Because he didn’t understand. What child would?

Dean had said that the IV made him feel funny. Bad was the word that had lingered in the back of the boy’s mind. Caleb could relate. The drugs they had used on him during his own time at Brooklyn were disorienting, making him docile, easier to control, but not fixing the actual problem. In fact, making them worse. If one of the drugs they’d pushed on him had stopped the death visions or the constant noise of people’s thoughts, than maybe it would have been worth it. Maybe. But they hadn’t. It had made the nightmares so severe that he had struggled to know what was real and what was in his mind.

Something Dean was clearly afraid of.

Every time he would start to drift, Dean would jerk himself awake. The silent mantra of Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Echoed across their connection.

Mac had left, saying he had been called in to consult on someone’s brain scans, but would be back soon.

Caleb continued rubbing Dean’s back, hoping he would eventually give in to the much needed sleep. “You can sleep, Deuce. I’ll wake you up if you start to have a bad dream.” He wondered if one day he’d be able to do something more. If maybe his powers would actually be useful. But if nothing else he could tell when the nightmares started and put a stop to them.

Dean’s hand stopped moving, gripping his shirt tightly, a small hitch in his breath.

“Deuce?”

“Are you going to leave me here?”

Caleb’s hand stopped along with his heart. He tried to reposition himself, craning his neck in an attempt to look into the boy's eyes.

“Hey, no, I would never. How could you think that?”

A sniffle.

“Come on, Deuce talk to me.” He pleaded.

“They said if I didn’t get better I’d have to stay.” The small voice broke. “That Daddy was going to leave me. But who will take care of Sammy if I go away? He needs me.”

Caleb found himself completely speechless, not for the first time tonight. A dark pit seemed to open up in his soul, devouring any and all feelings or emotions. His mouth moved a few times, unable to force any words out.

“I- no Deuce, no. I swear. I would never- I wouldn’t- You’ll never- no.” Caleb wrapped both arms around the boy clutching him to his chest and starting a rocking motion. He wasn’t sure if it was to comfort himself or the silently crying child. “I won’t let that happen. Ever.”

The little hand gripped him even tighter. “You promise?”

“I swear. I swear on my mother, Deuce. I will never let that happen to you. We’re going home. You’ll be better really soon and I’ll stay here until you are. I’m not leaving you. Okay? I’ll never leave you, okay?”

The silence stretched on and Caleb was unsure of what that meant. If it was a sign of trust or fear. Then finally the broken, far too trusting voice. “Okay, Damien.” It was said on a breath, Dean finally relaxing, melting into Caleb in a show of complete faith.

Caleb felt the change. The fearful and closed off child drowning in terror, finally letting go. Trust and love nearly overwhelming him. He held the child tightly against his chest, thankful when he finally drifted into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

The older boy felt drained. Exhausted. And it had nothing to do with his own lack of sleep.

Mac made his way back into the room, not long after Dean had drifted off. He gave a weak smile. “Good, I’m glad he’s finally getting some rest.” He looked at his son, the smile falling. “What’s wrong? Is Dean okay?”

“He thought we were going to leave him here.”

“What?”

“He said…” He said a lot of things that Caleb didn’t want to think about. “He was talking about the psych hospital. About Brooklyn.” Caleb bit his lip trying to keep his own breathing calm so as not to wake the sleeping child. “He remembers more than you thought.” It wasn’t a direct accusation of his father but rather the adults around him as a whole. The adults who had assured him that Dean didn’t remember his time spent at the psychiatric hospital.

Mac let out a breath, running a tired hand over his face. “That must have been very hard for you.”

“For me?” He scoffed. “Dad, he's terrified. I caught glimpses of…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Dean tends to understand more than any of us give him credit for.” The doctor ran a hand over the sleeping child’s hair, echoing Caleb’s thoughts from early. “He was only five and it was generally assumed that he spent much of that time unaware-”

“He wasn’t catatonic Mac, I could have told you that.”

Mac pressed his lips together. “Yes I know, and you did. And we were able to help him through it.”

“Not before traumatizing him! What did they have him on? He was totally freaked by the IV. Convinced it was going to make him feel bad and give him nightmares.”

“He was a sick child, Caleb. The doctors were trying to-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He snapped, stilling when he felt Dean move, hoping he didn’t wake him.

Mac sighed, going over to check the IV bag and then the sleeping child. “I think his fever’s gone down.”

Caleb hadn’t noticed, been too filled with ice to notice the heat or lack thereof. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes, I think we should be able to head back soon. I want to wait until he naturally wakes up. We should probably make sure that he can keep down water too. We don’t want a repeat.”

“Yeah,” Caleb sighed, rubbing a hand over Dean’s sweat soaked back. The boy was still clinging to Caleb’s shirt like it might be the one thing that might save him. The thumb of his other hand had found a way to his mouth. Caleb noticed he was biting it instead of sucking on it like most children would. A habit Dean had broken not long after regaining his voice. Caleb worried it spoke of Dean’s headspace.

“He’ll be okay, Caleb.”

“Physically maybe.” He muttered, psychically reaching out to make sure no nightmares had started. They seemed in the clear for the moment.

“I know Jim talked to you about Dean’s situation. It wasn’t like with you.”

“Yeah, that’s what Jim said. But it still messed him up. He was worried about what would happen to Sammy if they locked him up, Dad No eight-year-old should have that at the top of his fears list!”

“He also shouldn’t have people bursting in flames and demons coming to get him.” It was said clinically. Cold. Uncaring in a way that set Caleb on edge. “It’s not a life any of us would wish for him but it's the life he has.”

It was familiar hearing John talk like that, but hearing it from Mac made him oddly uncomfortable. He accused his father of treating him like a kid, claimed he hated it and wanted to be treated like an adult. And he did. But… it was also nice. Mac had a way of making him feel safe. Making him feel like just maybe he would be okay. Maybe he would make it through to the other side in one piece. Fully human. But that cold, cut and dry description of Dean’s childhood made him feel anything but safe. It made him feel scared. Terrified. Sick to his stomach. What kind of life was that for an eight-year-old? What kind of life was that for Dean?

“Caleb-”

“It’s fine, Mac. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“He shouldn’t have to just be okay. He should get to be safe.”

The doctor didn’t seem to have an answer for that, busying himself with the IV bag.

Caleb barely even thought about his own safety anymore. He was practically an adult. He’d already seen most of the horrors the world had to offer. Both the human and supernatural kinds. It didn’t bother him. Much. But Dean deserved better than that. He deserved a safe, normal life. It wasn’t fair.

“We’ll take care of him, son.”

“Yes. I will.” It was a resolution. A promise. A solemn oath to anyone who cared to listen.

Mac looked like he wanted to say something. A strange look that Caleb couldn’t place crossing his eyes. In the end he only pressed his lips together. His father’s mental blocks were up, Caleb unable to read what his father had been thinking. It didn’t matter. Not really.

The silence stretched out, Caleb taking comfort in the slow falling and rising of Dean’s chest. In the knowledge that for the moment at least, Dean was safe.

~TH~

I'm quite pleased with how this turned out. I really just wanted to write young Dean clinging to Caleb so I did. What will my next fic be you ask? No clue. We'll see where the muse goes.

Please let me know what you thought of this! Or just scream at me. Whatever you so desire.

Have a very blessed Good Friday and Easter. On a personal note I finally got to visit my best friend and the coffee shops here are superior to anything back home :)

Flood me with comments please.

Much love and God bless, Jamie