Title: Dream On
Disclaimer: Ridley is all about The Brotherhood and Kripke is all about Supernatural. I do not profit from either.
Author's Notes: This is the connector fic. Does it have a plot? Maybe-lol. But, it covers some little things I wanted to add. I have to say the postcard challenge is fun and Ridley and I are glad people are participating. All mistakes are my own.
Caleb grabbed his book and pen off the desk. European Art History was his last class before spring break. He couldn't wait to put some room between him and Auburn. He was heading to Pastor Jim's tomorrow to celebrate Easter at the end of the week. Dean and Sam were also going to be on vacation at the same time. Mac would fly down to join them since he was busy with patients. The psychic was looking forward to the visit, and there was also going to be a hunt involved. Jim had mentioned something killing animals in the area and it wasn't a coyote.
He tried to ignore the voice calling his name, wanting to make it to the Jeep to head to his off campus apartment. However, Todd ran after him.
He waited impatiently for his fellow architectural student to catch his breath. Todd was the kind of person who gave architectural students a bad name. Geeky and a total brown noser, Caleb had to show self restraint and not punch him.
"You heading to Cancun for spring break?"
Reaves laughed. Cancun and living the MTV spring break didn't fit into his lifestyle. "No, man, I got some work to do and visiting family." Caleb placed his books in the passenger side seat.
"Work, Jesus, you're an Ames-probably have a job lined up after graduation." Todd whined.
Caleb lost his patience. He purposefully chose a school that didn't have a building splashed with the Ames name. His father may have called the way he lived a 'rock star existence,' but he was discreet. His plans after graduation were his own, not related to his family at all. He got in the Jeep. "Doesn't work that way, Todd. See ya." He started the engine and left Todd and Auburn behind.
He thought he would be able to kick back before packing up and heading out. But when he reached his apartment he noticed the door slightly ajar. He didn't carry a gun on him while he was at school. He did have a knife strapped against his ankle. He slid it from its sheath. There wasn't much to steal except the entertainment center and one of his mother's paintings. Caleb didn't know anyone who could carry a 60 inch projection television, and he would hunt down anyone who touched the painting. His weapons were locked up and well hidden.
He opened his mind and tried to sense if there was someone still inside. He relaxed back, placing the knife back into place. Rachel was inside.
"Hey there," she said with a big smile as he walked in, placing his books and keys on the table by the door.
"Hey," he greeted her in return. "How did you get in?" He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, taking a swig before placing it back.
"Landlord." She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He could understand why he let her in-toothy white smile, long blonde hair, low cut shirt with plenty of cleavage. "Wanted to see you before you left. I'm gonna miss you." She leaned into him, pressing herself against him.
Caleb could feel the warmth of her body. He turned around. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," she said, and her pupils dilated.
"Show me, girl." He nipped at her lower lip and she responded.
In his bed they lay satiated. Rachel was sleeping with her head in the crook of his arm. He pushed her hair off her face, deciding to read her feelings. She was thinking of him, and he grinned. He had expected nothing less especially after what he had just done. It was the rest of the tumbling thoughts that brought him out of his languishing mood. She loved him; she wanted to marry him and couldn't wait for him to meet her parents at graduation.
Caleb shifted, moving her head off his arm. Like a wolf, it was time to gnaw off his appendage to break free. Abruptly he stood up, shedding the sheets.
Feeling the movement Rachel opened her eyes. "Come back to bed." She yawned.
"No, I gotta go, Babe. I'm expected." He slipped on his jeans, and then picked up her clothes from the floor.
She brought the sheet to her chest as she sat up, watching him scurry about the room. "I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"
"Nope, get dressed." He placed her clothes on the bed, then handed her underwear.
"These aren't mine." She held the offending black thong between her thumb and forefinger, studying them for a moment.
"You sure?" He looked confused, and pointed to the floor. "They were right there on the floor." He bent down and picked up a pair of pink bikini underwear.
"You bastard!" She threw the thong at him. "Caleb Reaves you are a fuckin' bastard!" She snatched her underwear from his hand.
"Rachel, you don't understand. . ." He backed out of his own room, giving her some space to get dressed, which she did under the sheet. He knew it was a low move. He kept the spare underwear for just these occasions. She huffed passed him, pushing him out of the doorway. The door slammed shut, and Rachel was gone.
Three months he had dated her, and not followed his own advice-never date a girl for three months. It led them on and they expected more.
It was late. He probably should have walked Rachel to her car. He went to the window and watched her sulk in the darkness to her car. Once the headlights in her Toyota went on, he got to packing, might as well get an early start.
The first thing Pastor Jim saw in the morning was the cross on the bureau in front of his bed. The second was a photo of his wife, Emma, off to the right.
She had been gone for over twenty years. They had ten years together, more than the doctors had promised. Emma had a heart condition, so they never had children. Jim had cherished his wife. Emma was kind, good woman yet full of conviction-his perfect match. Jim understood John's devotion to Mary even in her death, because he was the same. There would be no other wife for him.
It was time for him to wake up, but it was the sound of someone in the kitchen below which brought him to full alertness. He awoke early to tend to the farm and to God. He opened his nightstand draw which contained his Bible and a .45. He crept down the stairs, well aware of the ones which creaked and avoided them.
He lowered his gun when Caleb called out. "You mind pointing that thing at someone else?"
He relaxed his arm, shaking his head as he saw the young hunter reading a newspaper at his table. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
Caleb shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the gun. "Is this the kind of welcome you give to your guests?"
"Only the unwelcomed ones, my boy." He placed the gun on the counter, heading over to his coffee maker, noticing Caleb had already helped himself to a cup. "Is there any particular reason you came early?"
Reaves was not about to go into the Rachel situation. He knew the Pastor had a farfetched dream that Caleb should settle down. But, that would never happen for him-the hunt was too important and he didn't want to expose anyone he cared about to the lifestyle. "Yeah. Had to get the hell out of Dodge." It was very early in the morning, and there was still time for Reaves to go into his old room and get some well needed rest. "When are John and the boys coming?"
Jim didn't reply to the question, using the time alone with the young hunter to be more pensive and thoughtful. "Boys are growing up, becoming men."
"Not yet." Caleb picked up his backpack. As far as he knew Dean was still pure, Reaves knew he would be changing that condition sometime soon.
Jim didn't hear the comment. "I worry for you. You all had no choice-Sammy, Dean and you all born into this life." He studied the man before him, his silver ring worn proudly. Jim felt guilty for what he had set into motion and the possible future ramifications. He feared for all of them, including their safety in his prayers.
"I'd choose it again if I had to do it all over." Caleb replied with a nod. He felt this job was his destiny.
Jim shook his head at the naiveté of the psychic. For all he had been through, Caleb still didn't understand. Jim as the current Guardian watched and prepared other hunters and the next leadership of The Brotherhood. It survived in some form or another- sometimes needed more than other times. This was one of those times. Murphy smiled, noticing the backpack Caleb had swung on his shoulder.
"Tell me you brought appropriate clothing for Sunday services." Jim didn't allow Caleb to respond. "Because combat boots, black fatigues and a black t-shirt is not appropriate unless you are planning to lead an infiltration of the church, and last I checked there were no evil forces in there." He noticed Caleb's reaction, and pointed a finger at the college student. "And don't look indignant. Did you not notice no one sat next to you at Christmas?"
"That old guy. . ." Reaves interrupted, trying to recall the Christmas services.
"Mister Simpson is blind, Caleb, and your father doesn't count either."
There were few times when the psychic was at a loss of words. This was one of those times. It had been a calculated attack by the pastor, and Caleb had been bested. "Okay," he agreed.
"Thank you," Jim said with a smile and took another sip from his mug. "Why don't you get some rest? The boys aren't expected until tomorrow."
Reaves knew he was being dismissed. Caleb always wondered about Jim and what power he had as The Guardian. Evidently, one was putting young hunters in their place.