Susurrus of Gossip

Who: Dean and Caleb
Where: Art class
When: Morning

The whispers had been following Dean all morning. the whispers, the hushed comments, the looks, stares as he walked down the corridor. He hated every minute of it. He loathed being the centre of attention, wasn't even good at being noticed. But he was being noticed today. Him and everyone else that had been on the trip sent to the hospital.

He felt like the entire room turned to look at him as he walked into art class and headed straight for his usual table, slinging his bag down on the floor and slumping low in his chair as he grabbed his pad and a pencil and started to industriously draw, as if total concentration could block out the gossip. he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. he wished he hadn't come in today.

Caleb was of a similar mindset. He didn't have Dean's hearing, but people weren't being very bloody subtle, either. And, he knew he looked like hell. He'd immediately decided he was spending the rest of the school day with his hood up and shooting death glares at people who wanted to ask him 'what it was like'. He'd almost thrown a punch earlier, just people scattered when he'd hauled back with the threat. ...which worked, if didn't make him feel any better. He would have felt much better if he'd actually gotten to hit someone.

Heading into art class, he wasn't sure if he'd seen Dean or not, but there he was. Dropping down into his seat across from his friend, he glanced over as the freshman girl's table started up with a flurry of whispers. They sounded like fucking snakes with all the quite hissing. "Ever wonder why you're even bothering with this place anymore?" he asked rhetorically.

Dean shot Caleb a look for that. "... Because I'm here on a student visa and if I don't put in at least minimum attendance, I'm gonna get deported?" he suggested, then wished he hadn't been so sharp. It wasn't Caleb's fault that today was really getting to him. Of course, it didn't help that one of Janice's little flutterby stupid barbie friends had just asked her whether 'if your ex had died, would you have gone to the funeral?'. Great, just fucking... great.

"Have your guardians adopt you." Caleb said, though it wasn't a serious suggestion. He knew Dean had to keep going to school. He was seriously considering dropping out, though. Some days, it really truly felt like the biggest waste of time ever, and not only that but it was getting worse. He ticked his gaze over towards the girls, not quite catching what was being whispered about, though he thought he'd caught the word 'funeral'. "Think the world'd miss them?" he asked in a low, quite voice. "Could take the whole table out in about four seconds."

"I think there's been enough death round here lately," Dean said, the sharpness gone from his tone, and replaced by nothing much. He considered the comment about adoption. He'd never even considered that, but the more he thought about it... "It would really upset my mum and dad," he said. "If they did that - if Sophie and Oz adopted me, especially if it was my idea," he shrugged.

Caleb rested his chin down on his crossed arms, not even pretending to be doing anything for class today. Which was generally what his plan was for the rest of his classes too. He didn't even have his backpack with him. He was present, that was about it. "You talked to them yet?" he asked. "Sent any books, or anything?" Since they'd talked about that before. And today he was slightly less caring about who might be listening to them. He did shoot a dark glare over to the girls, who were openly staring for a moment. Why, he wasn't sure, but they quickly looked away again. Have you thought about what happens if the world does go to hell, and they decide to ship everyone home? He wasn't sharing that thought.

There was another shrug. "I've talked to them a few times, but... I'm still looking for books that I'd want to send. I kinda - I sent one I had. Just a generic one on psychics that I picked up for Thia back in September. It's not got huge amounts of detail or anything, but it's kind of... accessible? I've got a better one but... Really? Some of it's pretty confusing unless you already know some of what they're talking about." Really, he probably should have looked in Nevermore for other books yesterday, but he'd been so focused on demons and asking about books on Fades without letting Dorian know his personal investment in that that he hadn't even considered it.

Nodding, Caleb didn't push. After all, the subject hadn't been a very good one when they'd discussed it the first time. He just wanted to know. "You just generally pissed off today or did I do something specific?" he asked. Not that he was in a stellar mood either, but he thought he'd best ask, particularly before he skipped town for a few days. Which he still had to tell Dean about, but he would in a second.

The whispers around them were settling down a little - with some encouragement from the teacher - but the looks hadn't stopped. not that Dean knew that, since he hadn't glanced round once, but he felt as if he could literally feel the gazes burning into his skin. "Not you," he shrugged, glancing at Caleb, then down at the page. He was in a particularly dark mood with his art today, but that was nothing new these days. When he'd arrived in Marquette, his style had been cartoony, comical at times, though a particularly satirical bent of comedy. It had been getting steadily darker over the past few months. The cartoonish style had remained, but the humour had gone and the style was different, less smooth, more detailed and arguably better, more mature, but clearly stemming from a darker place. He glanced back again. "All of this - wish I'd skipped today. Sophie would have rung in for me, I bet. Oz would have been over the moon if I'd stayed home..."

Caleb arched a brow at that last bit. He was pretty sure Math would have called in for him too, if he'd asked. And he might bail on school here anyways, soon. He wasn't at all sure finishing out the day was a good plan. "Yeah?" he asked. "Paranoid or something?" he asked.

"...And some. Plus - he doesn't do well with members of his, er, family not being around." Had he told Caleb that Oz was a werewolf? he couldn't remember. He knew that the guy knew he knew a werewolf but details. That he couldn't remember.

"Huh." Caleb said, wondering what that was like. "I can't actually imagine that." he put in, after thinking about it for a few moments. "My parents probably didn't even know I was gone when I took off for a week when I was sixteen, and they couldn't wait to get rid of me. Math's...off being Math, and Dorian, well, he fucked off. And okay, he's back in town, but..." he shrugged one shoulder. I'm slipping through the cracks. I'm really aware of it. he thought, but didn't say out loud. It was something he might have said, or something akin to it if he and Dean weren't in a room with people far too fucking interested in their conversation.

"Yeah, I met your brother yesterday - the one that's been out of town? He helped me out with some books in Nevermore. And Oz and Sophie... All the time we were gone, they were staying in the next town. In fact they kinda went there the day we left. Y'know, just in case." Which was completely fucking pointless, what with the 'massive snowstorm' of it all. Which, Dean had to note, he'd been unable to find anything in the demon book so far about rakshasas being able to control the weather.

"Yeah?" Caleb asked. "Well, I'm sure he pointed you in the right direction for books." It was what the guy did. He was good at it. Now if he could stick to that, it'd be great. Maybe. Or he'd have another breakdown. He eyed Dean for a long moment, though, then shook his head. "...Yeah I can't imagine that at all." he admitted. "People just around and willing to follow you just in case. That...yeah. No concept of that. Is it nice? Or annoying?"

Dean had never really thought about it either way. "Really it's just... what he does." Since he knew it was driven by Oz. Sophie got paranoid about things, but it was Oz' inability to let his pack go that really drove things like that. Dean was sure that if it was just Sophie then everything would have stopped with ensuring that he was prepared for anything and everything. Maybe he should talk to her about pockets. He'd really missed pockets. ...And that isn't a totally random thought at all, fucking hell Conway! he thought at himself, internally rolling his eyes. But he'd started doing that sometime today. Little bits and pieces would filter in in random order. Like the fact that he'd spent the days in the cotton pants and t-shirt he habitually slept in, and there'd been a lack of pockets, meaning he was always carrying a spare clip, and that wasn't practical. And then there was his holster - it really was ruined, though he'd still worn it yesterday. But the leather had turned hard, and he'd ended up rubbing a sore spot under his left arm which hurt today. He'd need a new one, and he couldn't buy that himself realistically.

Dean blinked, pulling himself back out of his train of thought and looking back at Caleb again. "...Sorry. Just... Really, I get a lot of space. It's not cloying or anything. It's just - he cares." Which was what it really boiled down to in Dean's opinion.

"Oh." Caleb said. It was all he could say, really. And he noticed Dean's space out, but didn't really call him on it. He wasn't exactly what one could consider 'with it' today either so yeah. He'd been better before he'd got to school. Before then, he'd been kind of okay, even, it really was just having to deal with everyone that made it all suck. Still, he was kind of running his mind on what Dean had said. Just that he was cared about, and that was what happened because of that. And how he didn't have that. He knew if he was ever in trouble and called Mathias, he'd be there as soon as he could and everything, but Math wouldn't think to be concerned before the fact. Or, not more than he was before he knew what Caleb was capable of. Sometimes, though, Caleb wondered just what he was capable of. And if the mental and emotional impacts of it weren't just a really slow rot in his system.

The whispering had started up at the next table, and there was a sudden burst of giggles from the girls that felt to Dean right now like someone scratching their nails down a blackboard. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked, closing his book and starting to pack everything up. He couldn't do this anymore. He'd had enough and, really, he didn't think that anyone would stop them if they walked out right now. And if they did, well, there were ways around that.

"Really do." Caleb said, standing up. And he did so fast enough that his chair knocked the fuck over, and he leaned both hands on the table, leveling another glare at the girls. A 'you do not want to fuck with me' glare. The teacher looked over, and the room fell quiet for a moment, but then Caleb just turned to head out, ignoring the sort of weakish protests of the teacher. Really she didn't try to stop him so much as she made an attempt to ask where he was headed, and she didn't try too hard to get an answer.

Dean, on the other hand, ignored everyone, mumbling something incoherent at the teacher as he headed out, shoulders hunched against the world. For all he'd seemed to get much better at dealing with a crisis, he still wasn't a confrontational person by nature, not really. Not unless it was really needed - which seemed to be more and more of the time lately.

He felt a little better, once they were out into the empty corridors. Like for the first time since he'd arrived at school that morning, there was nobody looking at him. Like he wasn't someone escaped from the freak show he'd been seeing posters for all around town.

Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets, and just walked. "I don't know why I'm still here." he said, after a few long moments of silence. "School. This day to day bullshit. Seems to have less and less point every day." Which he knew wasn't a good outlook, but that was where his head was at.

Dean fell into step beside him. "What's the alternative?" he asked, looking over at his friend. Caleb had options, he knew. Caleb didn't have a visa keeping him in school, he didn't have to stay. Dean did, though he also knew that he was staying because he still had that idea of a goal - go to college, become a paramedic, or an EMT, or something like that. Do something worthwhile that wasn't just destroying things. Something that could make him feel good about himself for once.

Shrugging one shoulder, Caleb didn't answer right away. "Start hunting." he said, after what felt like far too long a pause, but wasn't actually nearly as long as he thought it was. It was closer to the surface of his mind than he would like to admit. The idea had first been placed there over the summer, and it kept drifting closer and closer to being a reality.

Dean didn't say anything at first. He'd been watching the news lately, keeping up on the lycanthrope stories since he got back. Not all of them were about the excitement of fluffy little puppies. "...What would you hunt?" he asked, eventually.

Caleb shrugged. "I don't know yet. Demons. Depends what else I could get wind of. Where it might be, how I could go about it. I don't know. It's not like I plotted everything out. I'm just...inclined towards it." he said after having to choose his words carefully. Not for Dean's sake but his own. He had to be at least mildly comfortable with how he put it out there, and it was hard enough for him to be comfortable at all with the idea.

Dean wondered if there was a way to actually ask 'what would be your criteria' without sounding like a defensive asshole. Probably not. "I, er... I know a good few people who, well - they...Kinda think hunters are bad," he said, instead. He knew they'd touched on the subject before, but things had been less real then. Much, much less real.

"That would be because most of them are." Caleb commented, his opinion on the matter quite clear in his tone. "Leija was the one who pointed out to me this summer that I had the mentality for it...or of a certain vein anyways. I kind of...well, let's just say I didn't react well." he explained. "But then the only hunters I had any experience with kill my kind on the spot. Shit like that. Or, there are ones out there who'll drop anything, so long as they're getting paid for it." he continued. "...but there are others. Ones who only take specific jobs, and it's..." he stopped and rolled his eyes at himself, and his tone suggested he thought the wording was stupid as well. "For the greater good or whatever."

Dean looked over, smirking very slightly at that. "Really? And here was I thinking that you hated the world," he joked, lightly. There wasn't a huge amount of humour in it, his bad mood still clouding him, but Caleb had always seemed very determined not to be the hero type.

Caleb shot Dean a bit of a look, but it wasn't too hard edged. It was just kind of a topic he had a bit of trouble with, regardless of if he'd been considering it more and more. "I do hate the world. Doesn't mean I think it deserves to be dragged down into hell, or what would be a close approximation thereof. Besides. I like a good fight. And I can do this. You know what I can do, I just...refine more, try not to bleed out anytime soon, and learn how to get along on my own..." he trailed off, watching the floor as he walked again. It was weird, discussing it. He'd not actually properly brought it up with anyone in ages.

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend bleeding out. Generally, it's considered a bad plan, and it hurts like a bitch," Dean commented, since he'd come close once and pretty far another time. He still wondered, sometimes, how close he'd come when she'd died for him. he knew, rationally, that she'd taken other injuries as well that day, but, in his head, it was still him. It had still been his injury, those slashes across his chest that weren't there anymore. She'd died for him that day.

"Yeah, I know." Caleb said. "When I landed myself in the psych ward...I just sort of went out and picked as many fights as I could. I was in the icu for a few days, damn near bled out. I even remember collapsing, thinking it was finally going to be over. I know they had to give me blood, and I think I was told I flatlined on the way to the hospital, but it's not like I remember any of that. It's like there's a bad jump-cut in my mind about it all."

"When the shadows were around... One of them got to me. Got me. Three slashes, right across my chest," Dean told him, his voice quiet. he reached up and dragged the three middle fingers of his left hand diagonally across his chest, where the scars should have been. "There was talk about taking me to the hospital, but... Anyway, it hurt. A lot. 'Couldn't move' a lot." 'Couldn't stop her' a lot. Dean lapsed into silence for a moment, remembering, then shook himself out of it. "Anyway, yeah - it's a bad plan. And apparently we both know that, so..." he shrugged. "There any way to do blood magic without the backlash?" he asked.

"No." Caleb said. "That's why you don't see a whole lot of people doing it. It fucks you up. Bad. And you don't have say over the backlash at all either. I mean sometimes it's minor, just a scratch. Sometimes I have to worry just as much about the wounds that's caused me as any I'd get from whoever I was up against." he said honestly. "Math got me a knife...heals me when I do damage with it, but that also means I have to be close enough to do it, and in a position to at all. Like I wasn't really when we were at the asylum."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I get how backlash can be - my stuff has it too. I mean, not like yours, but... There's no 'oh, if I just do this then I will only get that'. It can be anything. Take out a lightbulb and I could get anything from nothing to being unconscious for hours. Or I could take out half the block and hardly miss a step. Maybe. Though, only time I tried that kind of thing, it really fucked me over." Generally, that was one of the reasons Dean didn't bother using his abilities. In his book, they weren't often useful. And even rarer were the times when they were useful, and the price was worth paying.

"What happened to you last time?" Caleb asked, glancing over at Dean as they walked. He noticed that they'd just been wandering the halls aimlessly, and he was happy to continue that, really. He supposed they could just leave school, but he didn't know if Dean was actually planning on doing that, what with the visa issues and all.

Dean shrugged again and shifted his bag on his shoulder. "Y'know - unconscious for a few minutes, nose bleed, massive migraine - general shittiness all round? I don't really remember. It was like I made the lights go out aaaaand then the lights went out. Next really clear memory and I think I was on the couch. But I don't bleed the way you do. It's not like massive rents or anything. It's just that - the book I have basically says that the human body isn't built to withstand negative energy. So, what I can do screws me up on a fairly basic level. Even when I'm not using it, the energy that surrounds me kinda eats away at me. And when I do... It can send my body into meltdown. Fun, huh?" he joked, drily. he wasn't bitter about it, he'd been sick for so long that he'd just got used to it. And now, now he generally felt pretty okay, with Thia helping him out with that side of things every day. He wondered if she appreciated just how much that meant to him.

"To think there are people in the world who would be jealous." Caleb said with a sigh, shaking his head. "So we both can do something but it fucks us up something awful while we're at it. Great. Nice trade off." Giving a humorless half smirk, Caleb rolled his eyes. "Then there's my brothers, who seem to get along just fine, no drawbacks."

"Yeah. haven't told that many people, but 'that's cool' seems to be the reaction I get a lot. Which - really not." And not just because it screwed him up. Dean didn't like what he could do for the more fundamental reason that he hated the fact that what he seemed to be talented with was destroying things. But, they'd had that conversation. The 'you are not a monster' conversation. And he really had no wish to start it back up again now. "My brother didn't get anything. I was just the weird one in a normal family," Dean shrugged. "So - what can your brothers do? I thought your blood magic was more of a learned thing than something you could just, y'know, do."

"...Math's just kind of...perfect." Caleb said, shrugging. "Dorian's got talents for information, ferreting it out, knowing his shit." he said. "I was the opposite. I was the normal one in a family full of special people. I guess except for my old man, but..." he shook his head. "I don't know. I think my old man made up for being normal by being extrordinarily fucked in the head." He was quiet for a moment. "I mean, I know it's why my mom hates me. I mean, besides the fact that she and my dad didn't want any other kids after Dorian. But I wasn't special, to boot. So...y'know. Doubly bad for me."

There wasn't a huge amount that Dean could say to that. He wasn't willing to go badmouthing some woman he'd never even met, but he wasn't going to support her against his friend either. He wasn't going to pull the 'I'm sure she loved you really' card when he had absolutely no evidence to back that up, other than the fact that the idea of a mum who didn't love her kid didn't make sense to him. "My parents didn't know anything about any of that. They tried and everything, but, yeah - it was hard for them." he could see that now, looking back from a better place, with that level of detachment. That they'd tried with him, but he'd fought them every step of the way, and he'd been too much for them to handle. And what they'd come up with instead had worked pretty damn well for him, all things considered. Horrifically and awfully looked at from a different angle, but Dean wouldn't change it for anything.

"Some people..." Caleb started as he tried to piece his thoughts together. "I mean I've seen it. It's why I never really had friends before I got to Marquette. Some people don't get it. Can't wrap their heads around anything but football scores and the prom, or their job, or whatever. I mean, looking at everything from an outside perspective, it's all pretty fucked. I mean people don't know. People stopped believing in this shit centuries ago. Most people who even seriously considered the ideas and shared them would be laughed at at best, locked up at worst. And I'd say they should try harder when they've got a kid with something different, but I don't know. You sound like you have a better family than I do, hands down and I don't really have room to talk, or even any real idea what it'd be like otherwise."

Dean considered this, really thought about it before answering. "It's like... Dealing with something where you don't understand what it is, you've got no point of reference, you don't know what they're making up, what's real, what's a lie - and you don't know how to find out," Dean explained. "I know for ages I was just written off as like the problem child or something. And, really - I was a little shit," he admitted. Because he had been, a lot of the time. Some times he'd just been downright malicious. "Here - you know, I don't know if it was just being here and finding out there were people who got it that helped. or whether it was all the shit we've been through that meant that I had to grow up real fast."

"You have been through a lot of shit." Caleb said, remembering in that moment when he'd tried talking to Dean the day they'd put Lullaby in the ground. Just how awful that whole thing had been. If that didn't rub the innocence off the world, he wasn't sure what else would. "I think when I got here, I just...couldn't get lost in the crowd so much. I started having real conversations with people, and no one had my brothers to compare me to, and find that I was lacking. I didn't have any shadows to move out from under."

Dean breathed a small laugh at that, thinking about it. "Yeah, think I had something of the same thing. Not with brothers, but, back home, I'd been part of a big crowd. Everyone knew who they were and stuff and, well - it was easy to just blend into the background with that. couldn't do that here." He'd got used to having to be his own person. He'd had to become his own person. He still didn't like the spotlight though.

Caleb chuckled a little. "Yeah, you kind of stand out whenever you say, open your mouth." he said. "Least I can kind of cut back on the drawal." Which he did. And after a while it was a little less prominent naturally, but Dean's accent was wholly different. That and he had the distinction of being the guy who's best friend was gunned down and still no one knew who'd done it. Caleb wasn't saying, that though. He just knew it was true.

Dean was aware of his status as 'the guy with the accent'. Or, apparently 'the cute guy with the accent' - depending on who you asked. Still, more people knew him like that than ever knew his name. "I could do a really bad impression of the local accent - but I think that would just get me stared at more, rather than less. People would probably think I'd really lost it then."

"Yeah, by now they'd just think you'd lost your shit." Caleb agreed. And belatedly, he realized that he was feeling in slightly less dark a mood. He was much less ready to punch someone at the moment, anyways. "...hey, just so you know, I'm going to be leaving town for a few days. Nic asked me to go with her to her annual trip to Wisconsin to...check around where she was found and stuff, I guess. She's...well. We're giving things a shot, I guess." he said, reaching up to rub lightly at the back of his neck a moment, feeling the slash there twinge.

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "So, things didn't just crash and burn then?" he asked, glad about that. He might have his own twitches about Nic, but that didn't mean that he didn't want Caleb to be happy. And just because the girl wasn't to his taste, didn't mean she wasn't right for his friend. Who was he to judge? Long as she wasn't going to freak out about the news. And, anyway, she'd been cool about Thia - which gave her stupid amounts of brownie points in Dean's book.

Shaking his head, Caleb looked honestly still a bit thrown by that. "No. She...thought everything over, and her arguments were pretty convincing. And she says she's still got things to think through and everything, but she knows me. or...that's kind of what it boiled down to." he tried to explain, and he did a pretty poor job of it. "But yeah, we're leaving whenever she finished the work on my car she wants to do."

"Pretty convincing arguments?" Dean asked, thoughtfully. Caleb wasn't the easiest of people to convince about something. Or, he didn't think so, anyway. "So, early reports say she's possibly crazy-free then?" he asked, carefully, as though he might jinx it by raising the subject.

"So far." Caleb said. "Unless one counts being attracted to me at all. That kind of automatically sticks her in the crazy category, but so far...it seems okay." His tone was hesitant, which illustrated just how wary Caleb still was about it all. Like he was afraid of saying it'd be okay because it would immediately result in things being fucked.

"Yeah, see - you never did it for me, mate. No accounting for taste," Dean joked, deciding that having made that tentative enquiry and got an equally tentative response, moving swiftly away from the topic was in order.

Caleb chuckled at that. "Yeah, well you're not my type either." he said. "Don't know what your girl sees in you. How is she anyways? I've been listening around, when I could, I haven't heard anything that sounds like anyone talked." he said, since it was, in fact, a concern of his. Sure, he didn't spend loads of time with the girl or anything, that didn't mean he didn't consider her a friend. Plus there was that part where Dean might fly right the fuck off the handle if he heard it first, so Caleb was thinking if he caught the first wind of it? It might be dealt with slightly less violently. Maybe. He couldn't promise anything either.

"Eh, I think it's the accent and she's... Okay," Dean said, hesitating as he picked the word. They hadn't really gotten into talking any more about the issues that had been raised - unless and until Dorian came through with another book on fades, they were at a dead end with what they knew, but Dean knew Thia and just because they weren't actively talking about a problem, didn't mean that it had gone away. "I haven't heard anything either. Seems that everyone's, either keeping their mouth shut, or so massively traumatised by massive demon badness that a little thing like resurrection doesn't seem so bad."

Caleb caught the big pause there before Dean landed on a response. "...anything going on I should know about?" he asked, which was his way of saying if Dean wanted to talk about it he was there, but if he didn't he could easily tell him it wasn't his business just by saying 'no'. He did, after all, recognize there was probably a lot of shit he didn't know, and wasn't going to know.

Dean shrugged. "Issues," he said, brushing it off, though he then almost immediately continued. "One of the things about fades... It's not just that she can't die. It's that she's got an extended lifespan. Like, probably hundreds of years, extended lifespan. And, well - she was really feeling everyone else's mortality," he said, as per usual keeping it a general thing, not linking it to himself at all. That was just his way.

Walking for a little bit as he let that sink in, Caleb was trying to figure out how he'd feel about something like that, and only really came up with 'horrified'. he barely wanted to stick around for the rest of this life, let alone hang around for several others. "I honestly don't even know what to say to something like that. Where I'd even start." Then he paused, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. "Do you ever think about it?"

"I... I'm not going to be the one left behind, mate," Dean pointed out, though he knew that wasn't the point. And he did think about it. he'd been aware of it. There'd always been more pressing things, but he was aware. That he'd die, and she wouldn't. He'd just always assumed, wanted, there to be other people in her life. After all of them were gone. He'd always assumed that he would be entirely replaceable.

"Not really what I asked." Caleb pointed out, though it wasn't pointedly. It was bound to be a touchy subject, and he didn't want to push too hard if Dean didn't want anything to do with talking about it. He had to admit it would drive him nuts though. Along with other aspects of the whole Fade thing. But then again he also would never have agreed to get a tattoo that some girl drew up for him with little to no thought, so he and Dean had very different mindsets on things.

Dean carried on walking for a few more steps before he replied. "Course I think about it. I just... She and I looked at it differently, is all. I saw it that time would pass and people move on, y'know? Like, so we'll all grow old but - it's not like we'd all... disappear... all at the same time. I kinda - I saw it like a natural process. She - she just sees it as an endless stream of losing people, one person at a time. And knowing, every time she meet someone new, that if there's anything, sooner or later, you're going to have to... That they'll die on you."

That was depressing sounding for the girl, he had to agree. Really depressing sounding. He did keep his eye on Dean though, picking something else out of there. "She won't though, right? Grow old, I mean. Or is that what you mean by moving on? That eventually you're going to do that?" he asked. For a guy who seemed prone to taking the immediate freak out track when anything even remotely bad was said about his girlfriend, even in passing, Caleb had to wonder how that worked. But then the whole situation was one he didn't think he'd ever actually understand. Not really.

Dean shook his head. "I meant we as in everyone else. Cos no, she's always going to look sixteen. But, yeah, that's what I meant by moving on, really. Like - who knows what's going to happen in life, right? Things change, people change, nobody really knows. But, yeah... I dunno. I guess I never really thought about it from her side of things." It was clear from Dean's tone that he considered that to be a personal failure on his part, that he should have done that.

Caleb thought it all over, thinking that was probably going to be something that turned into a major issue. "...so you're looking at it realistically, where, you grow up and move on and eventually you're just two people who used to know each other, and she's looking at it from a death separation perspective." he assessed. Which actually made him sad. Though it was more the loss of a little ideal he'd picked up from Dean in the first place, so maybe it was fitting that he was the one that corrected it. He remembered looking at them and seeing such devotion there, but from how Dean was talking he fully planned on that evaporating at some point. So maybe it wasn't actually there to start with, and he'd imagined it.

Dean frowned as he listened to that. "No, I... It's... Maybe, I dunno," he said, wondering if that's what he actually really meant. "I just, I... I don't know," he said, again. He really didn't - he was sixteen, he didn't know how to plan to 'the rest of his life'. He stopped and slumped against a locker, doing a pretty good approximation of 'miserable'. "I don't know what's going to happen - nobody does. I don't know if... I mean, I can't... I can't imagine..." he stopped and tried again. "I love her - I really do. But... And I'm not planning on us not being together, or anything like that. Really, not - can't imagine it, but... I look into the future sometimes and it's like... I can't see anything there. Not not with her, or anything like that. I just - I can't imagine where any of us'll be in, like five, ten years time. And, wherever I am, I mean... I can't imagine her not being a part of my life, but... I don't know what my life will be. or what hers will. But, even if we stay together, I mean... I'm gonna get old, right? So, maybe she wouldn't want... or something. I just - the way I see it, unless - look, let's just assume for a minute that I'm not gonna get horribly killed by something with claws, okay? Please. Anyway - assuming that... I wouldn't want to leave her alone." He wasn't entirely convinced any of that made any sense.

Caleb stopped and watched Dean as he tripped through his thoughts, looking thoroughly unhappy about everything. Listening, he tried to fill in the multitude of blanks. He also took a moment to formulate his internal translation of what Dean said, which at the end he nodded. "I think you make sense." he said first, since he figured that might be important to Dean who'd just been wholly unable to complete a sentence in the last few minutes. "I guess for me, nowadays when I think about the future at all, I don't see anything good." he said. "There were the vamps, the shadows, the spirits showing up, now lycanthropes are dominating the news and apparently an honest to god freak show's hit town, and it has me wondering if that isn't going to be something fucked up too. ...beyond the normal sense of it, that is. I personally don't see myself making it to see twenty. And granted, I never really did before, but the reasons there have shifted for me. Now, it's more because I look at all of this, look at the timeframe, and think that the world? Ain't going to be the same place it was while I was growing up, so all bets are off. I'm pretty sure the very definition of a 'normal life' is going to change drastically." He was quiet for a moment, assessing if he had anything else to add there. "I'm not worried about the future, I'm worried about holding onto what I've got now. But then again I've got more hope for people like you than I would for someone like me in the first place, which was why I asked initially. I'd give you better odds on having to figure out your life later on than I'd give myself." And he didn't sound upset about that, more just like it was something he'd put a lot of thought into, and had come to that conclusion.

"Maybe," Dean said, reaching up to run a hand through his growing hair - he really needed to decide whether to get it cut, or carry on growing it - before he carried on. "I just... I decided what I wanted to do with the rest of my life because of her," he told Caleb, thinking it through. "When she started taking people's injuries. That's when I decided that I wanted to train to be something medical. So I could either take care of the other people, so she didn't have to. or I could take care of her once she'd done it. Because it's not like she can be taken to a hospital if she gets injured or anything. So, someone had to be able to do it. But, the rest of it. I don't know. I don't know how to really, think about it. Plan for the rest of my life. Assume that she'll always be there, I mean - you can't do that, can you? It's not fair. I don't know, there's so much, I just... Even without the fucking insanity of our lives, it's still. I dunno. I just kinda - part of me wants to just enjoy what we have and work out the rest later," he admitted.

"You made that decision based on her, and you're solid on it? But you can't figure out what you want with her relationship wise, long-term." Caleb said. "Sometimes I don't get you." he added, though he didn't sound like he counted it as a bad thing, per se. Or that he disagreed with anything. "And...I don't know, you sound like 'planning' means you have to have it all laid out with dates and times and markers. Like a goal sheet or something." he said. "That I could never deal with. Maybe I think in more general terms." he suggested.

The other teen shrugged. "I just... Putting it into a 'this is it' way just... It seems so... I mean, it's not that I don't want, but..." But it was fucking scary, declaring you were going to spend the rest of your life with someone. It was so... resolute. It was making that huge assumption that you were good enough for someone to want to spend the rest of their ife with you. It was committing yourself to a fact. It was believing in yourself enough. It was a whole host of things that Dean had major issues with in his makeup. He knew how he felt about her, but to declare that to the world in words? Weren't actions good enough?

"You're the one who got tattoos." Caleb said. "I for one don't figure even if I did make it that anyone'd be with me that long. Like...my brother Math's here. He stuck around initially for me, though he says he's got other obligations now. And for a while, it seemed like he was really foucsed on getting me on track? But now like...I barely see him. I haven't talked to him in a while, not proper talking. And if that's my brother who'd drop everything to help me out if I needed it, my family..." he shrugged. "Kind of doesn't give a guy much hope that there's a long term attached to anyone. I guess I just view you as different. Like...what I did see between you and her, when you were both in the most fucked up situation ever..." Glancing away, Caleb again rolled his eyes at himself, and didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Just because your family's like that doesn't mean you have to be," Dean pointed out. "After all, you and your brothers..." Dean made a face, deciding that he really, really didn't want to finish that sentence. "Anyway, it's not the same. Family and relationships. And - I'm gonna be getting another one. Tattoo, I mean. If we can find somewhere that won't need proof of ID." That, he knew, would be a big 'if'.

Dean didn't have to finish the sentence, Caleb got the point and didn't take offense either. "I don't know. I just...my parents wanted nothing to do with me, and now I've stopped being the flavor of the week for my brother's attention, and Dorian and I never did get along. You're the most long-term friend I've ever had, and we haven't even known each other that long. The idea of things panning out differently for some reason with other people, or a significant other is one that I don't think I'll be buying into." he confessed. "...and see there's that no-sense thing again. You're all twitchy about thinking about long term and that's permenant." he said. "...and another one? The first one not enough? Is this one a her-design too?" he thought so since Dean had said 'we'. His tone wasn't pointed though. He sounded vaguely amused, even.

"It's different," Dean argued, though it was weakly, because he knew he couldn't explain it. He had just always dodged away from really putting things into words where he could. Like doing that would curse things or something. Or just make them really, really real, and then he'd have to deal with it. In Dean's brain that take on things sat just perfectly comfortably alongside the fact that he would happily turn up to a tattoo parlour and let someone ink his skin with a design that he'd never even seen in a place of her choosing if that was the way she wanted it. "And yeah, one of hers. And it's... the one I have, Oz wants everyone to get them. So it's not going to be - it won't just be mine anymore. And I wanted one that was. And she wanted me to have one that was."

Caleb eyed Dean for a moment, then chuckled a little, shaking his head. "Yeah, I don't understand you sometimes." he said. But he accepted it as 'Dean' and that was alright. So long as he didn't have to jump on the 'let's get tattoos!' train with anyone, he'd be fine. Dean could do it all he wanted. "Hopefully it's not something like fluffy bunnies and rainbows."

"God no!" Dean exclaimed, even though he hadn't actually seen the design, and said that he didn't even need to know what it was. he trusted Thia, and that included trusting her not to ink him with something entirely ridiculous. "Apparently it's gonna be a wolf. Because of Oz." He smiled a little. He'd liked that idea. And oz had always said that he'd make a good werewolf. he Understood. As far as Dean was concerned, there wasn't anything hard to understand - it was just the way of the world.

So, Oz would be the werewolf then. Which Caleb wondered if he'd been told before, but couldn't immediately recall. "Yeah?" he asked, noting the little smile, and that made him want to smirk, but he kept it back. Dean just picked the strangest things to do that about, especially since the guy rarely smiled in the first place. He still recalled how he'd been all smiles when he came back from spending the night with the girl that first time. Caleb had honestly thought Dean had gotten himself laid that night.

"Yeah. It's good. I mean - it was sweet of her to think about it, cos... Oz is a good guy. he's kinda - he's a guy I'd like to be like, y'know? I mean, we have our problems, but - he's a good guy." Dean didn't like tossing round words, labels like 'roll model', or maybe even 'idol' - much the same was that he didn't like saying that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his current girlfriend. They were things that exposed him too much, and expressed emotions like that had to be backed up and justified. He needed the confidence in himself to stand there and say such things that he just didn't have. But he knew how he felt. "And we kinda always see eye to eye on some things. So, yeah. It's kinda apt, I guess."

"Really?" Caleb asked. "I don't think I ever really had anyone I looked up to or anything. That I wanted to be like. Math's just...Math, and out of my fucking league. Dor...he's Dor. I couldn't be like him if I tried either. I never had anyone around that I could look at and thought to myself that I could back up what kind of person they were. Seems...well, to me, it seems odd. Like I can't picture it, but that's probably..." he made a vague gesture towards himself, not throwing out his heritage, but figuring Dean'd figure it out. "That's the thing about it, I guess. Just...things are missing."

"...Or that you just haven't actually met anyone you'd want to look up to," Dean pointed out. "I mean, I only met oz this summer and before that... I dunno, I think maybe I was in the same place as you, that way anyway. there wasn't anyone else I wanted to be like. But I can talk to Oz and - some of the things he says just make sense to me. And the way he looks at the world and the way he cares about people. That's kinda how I'd want to be."

"How's he look at the world that's different than other people?" Caleb asked, honestly curious about that. Being he saw his own issues being so much different than other people, or normal humans, he had to wonder if it was like that for other full on supernaturally bent people. Like, say, a werewolf. Did it entirely alter an outlook? Or did it just play in? He'd never properly spoken to one, so he had no idea beyond he would figure it'd have to be different.

"Mostly it's down to pack," Dean told his friend. "Like - like the idea that there are certain people in the world who you'd do anything for. And the rest of the world can just go jump. or, at least, look after themselves. But - it's not family, or friends or anything. there's not that... distinction with what people are. They're either important, or not." And Dean could relate to that, easily even. It was akin to how he viewed the world. Dean could be a hard person to get to know, but once you were in, he'd do almost anything for you.

"Pack." Caleb repeated. "Huh." he wasn't sure he could quite get that part of things, though he understood on some levels the idea that there were people you did anything for. And the idea that some people were important, and other people could fend for themselves. "I guess I get some of that." he said after thinking it over. "It just sounds less harsh that way than it does in my own head."

"How does it sound in your head?" Dean asked him, curious at that. Dean knew that he used to think that everyone thought the way he did. He used to be certain of that. he could never understand why people didn't get certain things, or act in certain ways that seemed clear and obvious to him. He'd learned that that wasn't the case - that he often thought very differently to the people around him, which was part of why Oz was important, because Dean could relate to him. So he was interested on Caleb's take on things.

"That I give a damn about the people I give a damn about and everyone else is on their own." Caleb said. "That honestly? Most of the people in the world could burn and I wouldn't care." He shrugged one shoulder. "Sounds less harsh your way." It sounded almost like a good thing the other way. But then, he suspected there was a more cut throat methodology in his own head.

Dean considered this, then nodded. "Yeah, it sounds less harsh my way," Dean agreed. And he wasn't sure he'd take it that far. Of course, it depended on the circumstance. If it was 'us or them', then... Maybe. Dean didn't know - and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out what he'd do there.

"I thought it might." Caleb commented. Then he sighed, and looked around. "You sticking it out for the rest of the day?" he asked. He wasn't positive he was going to, even if he felt marginally better for having walked around with Dean and talked about random things. He still wasn't even sure what he was going to be doing in regards to school.

"I dunno," Dean admitted. "I don't know if I can stand it, but I guess that if I fuck off, then they'll just talk whenever I come back, so... Just as long as I don't have to listen to fucking... To Janice being asked whether she would have gone to my funeral if I'd died I probably should just suck it up and get on with it," he shrugged.

Caleb winced, and looked back at Dean. "Thought I'd caught a word in there...they really asked that?" he asked, shaking his head. "And I thought I was a fucked up bastard. Jesus." he said. "Maybe someone should fill her locker with snow and ruin all her shit." he said, flashing a momentary grin. "Or fry her cell phone. and the next one she gets, and the next one. Who said karma had to be dealt out by the universe?"

He twitched a smile at that. "Don't think I haven't already considered it," Dean commented. After all, the girl had been spreading rumours about him ever since he'd refused to go out with her again. She hadn't taken his lack of interest well at all. Things had only seemed to really die down when he'd disappeared to England - he assumed that she'd been distracted by something shiny in his absence.

Pausing, Caleb considered, then figured he'd ask. "Did she answer?" he asked. At the moment, he didn't figure there'd be much of a turn out for his funeral. Dean would likely have a few more, though likely, anyone there more than a handful would probably only be people trying to sop up sympathy for some imagined 'friendship' or whatever. Like Chrissy's memorial service. He knew half those people had hated her, and yet...

"Huh?" Dean asked, not quite getting where Caleb's question was at. "Did who answer?"

"Janice. You said she was asked if she'd go to your funeral. Did she answer?" Caleb clarified.

"Oh - oh, right. I... She didn't answer. She just - did that whole irritating giggling thing and brushed it off," he explained, rolling his eyes. His patience for the girl had entirely evaporated having had to spend actual time in her presence, and it had been going steadily downhill since then. Of course, he'd brought the whole thing on himself, but something had had to give there.

"Giggling. Cuz it's real fucking funny." Caleb muttered. Maybe he would do something to fuck with the girl, just because. Or give Nic something to do. He was pretty sure she had built up steam to blow off, since she'd started behaving more of late. "Occasionally I wonder if I'm lucky just because I have an excuse to be like I am. What's hers?"

"She's an idiot," Dean deadpanned, without missing a beat. "Nothing's real to her - to any of them. That's my theory, anyhow. I'd say there's probably crack in their lipgloss, but that would be suggesting that it's not something innate and would give them too much bloody credit."

"Well, it's got to be something. Because seriously. I have an excuse. So far as I can tell, the rest of them don't. Which makes it worse, in my opinion. But whatever, I guess. The world's going to hell anyways. Maybe it's their fault. They just keep making the world a stupider place." Caleb suggested, shaking his head.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe it's just that the world and everyone in it is fucked up more than you thought," he suggested. "Like - you say you've got an excuse. Maybe you haven't. Maybe you've been giving humanity far too much credit, and you're really just the same as the rest of us." Which was a really fucking depressing thought, all things considered.

Shaking his head, Caleb glanced over. "No. I mean, maybe in some cases. I know humanity can be just as screwed up as anything else. But I'm still aware that there are certain wires in my head that either aren't connected right, or are missing entirely in the first place. I guess at least I am aware of it though. I'd say most people aren't." Most people just wandered through their lives not stopping to think about anything.

"I think most people don't think about themselves like that. I mean, the 'what am I really like' kind of a way. Only in the 'this is what I want' kind of a way. Most people don't want to see themselves as the bad guy." Dean saw himself as the bad guy all the time. he'd never particularly liked himself very much, but he was always striving to be a better person that he perceived himself to be. He considered that that gave him some measure of self-awareness.

"I guess." Caleb said. "Seems to be a shit way of going about it though." he added. "But whatever, that's the way of the world, I guess. Most people are looking out for what they can get. Or maybe that's cynical of me. Honestly I don't know anymore. I'd love a better perspective on things, but I'm pretty sure I won't get one. I'm stuck with mine, which I know is skewed, and I just have to allow for that."

"I used to think that people thought a certain way," Dean told him, though he was sure that his friend had probably noticed him doing it a few times. "That, like, some things in life were so obvious that it was just bizarre that people didn't do it. Like standing up for your friends, fighting their corner. Like not going after a mate's girl, stuff like that." They were just the obvious examples - Dean's life was lived by endless sets of rules he'd applied to the world. It had taken him time to realise that not everyone lived by those rules. "Doing it any other way just seemed like a shit way of going about it to me, but apparently people do that, so... you're not the only one with a different perspective, is what I guess I'm trying to say."

"If no one went after another person's girl, there'd be a lot less divorce in the world." Caleb said. "And if people were as stand up as that, then it'd be a less fucked up place. I guess I automatically assume the opposite. That no one'll do that. That people are generally shitty, and that's that. So, I guess we're both guilty of extremes there." he said thoughtfully. "Can't say which is worse. Being a total cynic or a dreamer."

"I'm not a dreamer," Dean protested. "I just think that if people actually thought at times, there'd be a lot less hassle around. That's not dreaming - I know people aren't like that." Now he knew that. Before - not so much.

Caleb thought for a few moments on Dean's statement. "I think you're still giving people too much credit. I think even if they did think about it a hell of a lot of the time it wouldn't change their behavior any." he said. "Inherently selfish assholes are still going to come up with some way that it's not their fault. That it's everyone else's, or they're justified." he said. "And it's not that bad a thing to be a dreamer. Bet the world looks nicer from your point of view than mine."

Dean shrugged. "Or I get disappointed more times than you do," Dean pointed out. "If what you're saying is that I expect too much. Which - I don't so much anymore, but, yeah - It's kinda hard realising. Shock to the system and all that. You? you don't ever seem to expect anything from people. Sometimes you're right, sometimes you just get to be glad you're wrong."

"I guess, though you just now started picking up on the whole people are fuckers thing." Caleb said. "So that to me means either people haven't been vastly disappointing to you in your life, or you still don't see it sometimes when they are. I don't know. I guess there's merits and flaws to both." he assessed.

"I just didn't see it," Dean said, his tone almost blank, thinking of Andy. He shook himself out of that though - he didn't want to think about the bastard and he certainly didn't want to talk about him. "So - this thing with Nic, why Wisconsin?" he asked instead.

Caleb was quiet for a moment, before he gave Dean the short version. "Nic only remembers like the last three years of her life. She woke up there, no memory, whatever. Her mom adopted her and brought her here, but she goes back every year on her birthday. I don't know if it's the day that she 'woke' or whatever that she picked as a birthday, or what. But...that's it. It's why I asked you before about the dreamwalker. She has nightmares every week about things but never remembers them. I'm willing to bet they have something to do with what she doesn't remember."

"So... she doesn't know who she really is?" Dean asked, trying to imagine that. And Nic always seemed so very sure of herself - issues stemming from a half-demon boyfriend and rakshasa attacks aside, of course, but that was only to be expected.

Nodding, Caleb glanced over. "Yeah. She doesn't talk about it a lot, but it's there. Like she has these scars, really sort of...straight thin ones? Clean cuts. She doesn't have any idea where they're from." he continued. "I think she'd probably half of a mind that she wants to know and half wondering if maybe it's better that she doesn't. I mean, no one came for her. No one reported her missing or has been looking for her, either."

"Straight thin ones?" Dean asked. "Like, I dunno - surgical scars rather than fight scars? Or cut ones? Where?" he asked, throwing himself by actually realising that he knew a bit about scars and what caused them. he shouldn't, he knew. Apart from a few times, he hadn't come across that many scars until recently, and proper scarring took years to develop on most people - the scars that he'd have from Cyril Draven were still pretty new. But when Thia died, when she came back, her scars were proper scars. Healed, settled, permanent scars, but the memory of how she'd got them was still fresh.

"You'd have to see." Caleb said. "Though I think she might kill me if she knew I'd even told you about all of this." he added. "To me they looked like the kind of scar you can get from blood magic...or, like one of the spells I do. Really clean. But she really just doesn't remember. I know they bother her." he said. "...why?" Since Dean had seemed kind of keen there for a minute.

"Then I won't mention it to her - won't tell her you told me," Dean promised without missing a beat. "And I just wondered - different scars, different ways of getting them - might give a clue to what sort of background she had or something, I dunno."

"Yeah, I know." Caleb said. "...you are talking to the walking roadmap." he added. Because good christ was he ever. He knew about scars. He knew more about scars than he ever would have liked to know. But that was just what happened when you started fucking around with blood magic, and then were stupid or desperate enough to keep at it.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Yeah - you ever get any of those scars in, like, a normal<?i> way? Surgery, or fell on some glass as a kid or anything?" he asked.

He shrugged. "Not surgery. But I have a few buried underneath the other ones that came from normal stuff. Like falling out of a tree when I was a kid and landing on a rock. Shit like that. Though granted, most of them are from everything else. Either getting hit, having to get a blood source, or backlash." Caleb looked back at Dean. "You an expert on scars?"

"Me? No - I'm not an expert on anything. I've just see a few, that's all. Doesn't matter," he said, brushing it off, since Caleb had specifically called him on whether he knew what he was talking about. That kind of made him feel like he was being told her didn't, those insecurities about not being good enough raising their heads.

"Thia?" he asked. Because yeah, he'd noticed. Like he understood, after she'd showed up at the hospital why it was she wore a choker every time he saw her. That was one hell of a scar there, and he figured there were more beneath that hoodie she'd been wearing.

Dean shrugged, somehow making the move convey more 'nevermind' than usual. "Yeah," he muttered, now wanting to get off the subject. "So, um - how far is it gonna be?" he asked, in a blatant attempt to move them on.

Caleb noticed the tone there, but didn't call him on it. "I dunno. A few hours drive? Not that far." he said, having looked it up after Nic had asked him and he'd agreed. "And we're only going to be gone a few days." he added. "I just wanted to give you the heads up, in case the world ends, or something close to it happens, you'll know that I'm going to be a little farther away than in town." Which, after he said it, he realized was kind of a messed up reason to be telling him, even if it was the truth. He didn't want Dean thinking he could rely on him when he wasn't in town.

"Maybe if the world ends or something it'll just be here and you'll be right out of it," Dean offered, clawing back to more comfortable now that they were off the subject he still felt like he'd been called on. Though, he knew it was right that he had been - his friend had been doing nothing more than reminding him what he didn't know. He wasn't at all pissy at Caleb about it, just at himself for getting above himself. Not keeping himself in line.

"Maybe. Though if that's the case, you know I'll be back." he said. If things did go entirely sideways in town while he was gone, he'd be making it back in record goddamn time. His brothers would be here. Dean was. Nic's mom, shit like that. He wouldn't just bail and sit back, watching the news to see when Marquette went nuclear.

"I know - but you'd know what you were coming back to. You could come prepared," Dean pointed out, wondering why exactly he was now latching onto the possibility of apocalypse so easily. It felt in his head right now like it was a foregone conclusion. An acceptance - he assumed it grew from the past few days, everything that had been going on.

"Not really, I mean, what's 'prepared' anyways? It's not like I have a tank on hand. I'd just be driving back, and hoping I didn't get run off the road before even getting home, like Math and I were last time. That's why the car was so fucked up when you had it. Vampires ran us into the ditch then we had a fight on our hands. All I'd have is one hell of a lot of worry and a long ass car ride hoping I got back in time. I'd rather be in the middle of shit than that." Caleb said, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Unless the shit jumped you when you weren't ready and took you down. I mean - what I meant was the difference between something coming as a surprise and knowing what you're going into. Though, I guess for you, you're pretty ready for anything anyway," Dean suggested. After all, Caleb's major weapon stemmed from his own blood.

"Usually." Caleb said. "I still think that the ride back would be hell. Just...not knowing. And even if I called everyone and got answers, I wouldn't be able to handle not being there very well. It'd drive me batshit before I got back." He paused. "...just thinking about it makes me uneasy." he admitted, because it did. He could feel a twist in his gut at the idea, of just not being there. everything going down and not being anywhere near where he could help.

Dean snorted a laugh that had very little humour. "Maybe you should let Nic drive then," he suggested. Maybe it should just not happen in the first place. A break from the world going to hell would be nice. maybe, say, a couple of years or something. He could concentrate on pretending that school was important, he could graduate, he could figure out his life and the stuff he wasn't good at facing right now. Yeah, a couple of years would be so sweet.

"Maybe. She's probably better at driving in snow than I am." he said honestly. He was getting better, but sometimes it still seemed just a little tiny bit fucking insane to drive anywhere when there was ice between the tires and the road. Logically it was just stupid. "But...yeah, anyways, I'm going to be gone, so...heads up."

"Thanks - would have been worried if you'd just vanish," Dean admitted, truthfully. He didn't like it when his friends did that - especially not at the moment. of course, all it would have required from him would be a phone call to check, but it was better to know in advance.

"Figured you would." Caleb said. "I know I would have." Because no, he wasn't keen on the disappearance thing either. "...already had Rose and Leija both just fucking disappear. So...yeah. I'd rather not have a repeat performance for anyone, even if I'm not on that end of it." he explained. "Think I'm going to take off though. You see that shit about a freak show or whatever?" he asked.

"Yeah, I saw the posters," Dean said, shrugging a shoulder. "Not much about it though. But, really - freak show? Seriously? I thought they got stopped back in Victorian times or something. Or is it a here thing that I don't know about?" Dean asked, always aware that there were cultural differences, no matter how slight.

"It's not." Caleb said. "They were stopped here too. Apparently this one's on though. I'm wondering if it's fucked up. If either it's someone with illusions magic or some shit, or if people are pawning off the real deal, now that more supernatural shit is out in the open. Thought I might see it later, I'll let you know if I figure anything out, or if you go, let me know." he said.

"Sure, not a problem - though if I do go, it might not be for a few days. I'm trying to keep pretty close to home at the moment," he explained. Which was purely for Oz' benefit. He understood why the guy got twitchy, so he was trying to minimise that as much as possible.

"Oh, yeah, right." Caleb said, since Dean had brought it up earlier. "Well, I'll probably get there first then." he said, quirking a half smile. "Anyways...I can't stay here anymore. I have to get the fuck out of this building. I'll talk to you later, alright?" he said, heading towards the nearest door.

"Sure - and safe trip and everything," Dean called after him. It would be strange, being here without the guy. Which brought up the question about whether he was staying. But he knew that he needed to. He knew that he only didn't want to be here because he didn't like the atmosphere right now. And that wasn't a good enough excuse. So, he had to make himself stay. Dean sighed a little to himself, and turned to head in the other direction, heading off early to his next class. It was going to be a long day.