Title: I Knew

POV: Cal

Author: Obi the Kid

Rating: PG

Summary: Cal has a flashback about Tumulus and he and Niko deal with the immediate aftermath. (Story takes place at some point after Slashback).

Disclaimer: All hail Rob Thurman! No profit here, I'm just having fun.

**MINOR SPOILERS FOR 'SLASHBACK.'

NOTE: I had a crappy day at work last week and for some reason felt the need to write something a bit on the mushy side. This was the result.

I didn't know exact trigger of the memory. Nightmare. Stress. Cal's mental walls cracking. The reason mattered, but not as much as what was in front of me at the moment.

Cal, halfway between breaking down and losing his mind, had pushed deep into the furthest and darkest corner of our apartment, lost amidst his Tumulus past and his reality of now. This episode however, was somewhat different than the last time - years back when we'd first met Robin and he'd attempted hypnosis on Cal. Cal had gone mad that day. Flares of rage all around him as he tried desperately to get away from Robin and me. Slashing and fighting and screaming. Not this time. No, this time, he was whispers. Desperate and heartbreaking. Torn between the violent memories of Auphe murder and feeding time, the vicious vomiting that followed and trying to find his way back to me, it was almost two hours of sadistic torture of Cal's body and soul.

Covered only by a thin black tee shirt, his chest drowned in sweat. If you hadn't known any better, you'd have thought he'd just stepped out of the shower moments before. If only…

I knew differently. I knew better. I knew the nightmare he was trapped within.

The corner he'd pushed himself into was in the closet of my bedroom. It was dark and concealed. I couldn't guess if he was in that particular spot because of fear alone or did he recognize it as a form of safety? Did it matter?

I crouched within eyesight of him, but far enough away not to be an immediate threat. Robin and Promise, I'd held them off at the doorway.

"Stay there. I can't get him back with a crowd around. He'll see me. He'll know me." I said the words, although I wasn't certain if I believed them. Cal held his K-BAR knife in one hand. The other moved between shoving away invisible monsters and scratching aggressively at his arms and throat. The gagging that had begun when this memory had taken hold, increased as he mumbled about "killing the sheep" and "eating the kill." When finally the gagging turned to full-fledged vomiting and blood that followed…I knew I had to break through soon. I had to get my brother back. Now.

I inched closer, doing my best to avoid the partially digested dinner that he'd shoved down only an hour previous. The carpet would come clean eventually. Another worry. Another time. Cal's eyes caught mine, but there was no acknowledgment just yet. Terror and confusion reigned in the gray orbs. Not recognition. He was rambling, still in whispers, about the horrors being relived in his mind. There was blood now on his arms and throat from the scratching. Bile and blood on his face and chest from the vomiting.

Out of my crouch now, sitting with legs crossed, a set a hand inches in front of me, but still five feet from Cal. It settled on a clean portion of the carpet and I gauged his reaction. There was none, not immediately. Then his nose twitched a bit. He'd smell me from this distance. Me. His brother. If his eyes couldn't convince him, I knew his nose could.

"Cal. I know you're there, little brother. It's Nik. I'm here. And I'm not leaving. Not ever. So, come back, Cal. I need you to come back to me."

Cal had always told me I smelled like metal blades and cleaning oil, along with other things such as organic soy tofu squares, although I was certain the last was only a figment of his smart-assed mouth. I released a pent up breath. What I wouldn't give to hear a smart-ass remark about my eating habits at this moment. Hell. I'd give the world.

His nose twitched again after another vomiting spell in which only a few dribbles of bloody bile came up. This time when he rambled, his whispers were directed toward me.

"Killed her. Girl. Dark hair. Red lips. Pink skin. Young. Pretty. Dead. So bloody. I did that. Me. But…not food. Sheep…humans aren't food. Tried to stop them. Tried to fight. Puked it up again and again and again and again and again and they…made me eat and again and again…"

Dry heaves this time. Gagging and choking on the few strands of bile that only came halfway up. Hands scratched at his throat, fingernails digging into the already abused skin.

"You did fight, Cal. You fought hard. You came back to me before. Do it one more time, okay? For me, little brother. Please come back for me."

"Monster."

"I don't care, Cal. I don't care what you are or think you are. I don't care what anyone else thinks you are. I know what you are. You're my little brother. Always will be. Come back now."

He did. Several minutes of quiet staring as his eyes saw mine, saw me…and locked on.

"Nik?"

"Right here, little brother."

I reached over my shoulder to accept a small towel from Promise. Cal's hands were trembling so badly, I thought better of trying to get him to accept the towel. Instead, I moved closer, still cross legged to stay non-threatening. My toweled-hand reached towards him. He allowed it. The soft cloth touched his face and I began to wipe away the blood and bile from his chin and cheeks. Cal didn't flinch or pull away, but reached his shaking hands up to clutch around mine as I cleaned him. The grip was a vice. He looked at our hands together, then to my eyes again.

"Nik?" The tone was disbelieving and tragic. My brother, not one to ever admit fear, even when crammed with it, was scared to death for what he'd remembered. For what he'd done. There was no give in the grip on my hand. No sign that he would let go. No sign that he would ever want to let go.

All my life I've been able to read Cal. Now was no exception. I remembered the aftermath of Junior. Still so fresh in our minds after the recent events with Jack. How broken Cal was for a time. How much he'd clung to me for days after. Two weeks to be exact. This wasn't the same, but it was. No longer an eleven year old child, he was still a terrified little brother. One in desperate need of what only his big brother could provide.

With those thoughts in my mind and with my free hand, I carefully reached toward Cal and pulled him hard to me. Immediately his hands released my other and I wrapped him into my arms. It didn't matter the stench in the room or the condition of his clothes…this was my brother. He was all that mattered. All that had ever mattered.

For the first time in a long time, he cried. It wasn't hysterical bawling and if not for the slight shaking of his shoulders, Robin and Promise would probably have never been aware, but it was a release. And it was what Cal needed. Always, I had been the only one to provide that for my brother. He'd be the first to tell you that he wasn't the world's foremost authority in hugs, but sometimes that desperate contact is the only thing that can dim the pain and chase the nightmares away with sanity intact.

For a long time, I held my brother. At some point, the soundless sobs and trembling had stopped, and now he was almost boneless in my arms, curled inward, head against my chest, but completely dependent on me to support his weight. I'd held Cal's weight and the weight of our lives for so long it was all but routine now. Around us, the careful activity of clean up was happening. Robin and Promise, they couldn't help directly with Cal, but indirectly, they were Godsends. I'd imagine I'd have to get a carpet cleaning company in here at some point, despite best efforts, no amount of hand scrubbing would get the vomit, bile and blood stains off the floor. At some point, Robin set a first aid kit next to me. He'd have offered to help with Cal's self-inflicted wounds, but this time around, he knew better.

As with the Junior fiasco when he was eleven, Cal was numb and quiet as I moved him to my bed to treat and dress the wounds. Several of the scratches had gone deep and created the need for minor stitching. My proficiency in such medical care was well beyond average and it didn't take me long. With warm water, a washcloth and clean towels provided by Promise, I cleaned the bodily fluids from his skin. It would hold him over until he was conscious enough to sit in the bathtub without slipping under soapy water and drowning himself.

When I'd finished, I didn't curl up behind him as when we were kids, but I did sit on the bed beside him, leaned against the headboard and gently pulled him to lean against my chest. My arm around him, I reached down and took his left hand. Numb or not, his return hold was urgent.

I settled in and reassured him. "I'm here, little brother."

The "Nik" that he breathed out was more a sigh of relief than anything. He knew I wouldn't be anywhere else. He knew it as well as he knew the sun would rise each morning.

He slept. Hard and then not at all. Images, memories, thoughts, whatever…startled him awake. Then he'd let me stoke his hair before returning to sleep. Cal. My brave, kick-ass, warrior brother. This was the side of him that was always there. Always present. Just well layered over by snark and attitude. This was the side of Cal that others didn't see. The side that he didn't want others to see. It was the part of Cal that only I was privy to. Until now. Robin and Promise had seen pieces of this Cal over the years. Never however, to this extreme. I hoped in all my hopes that it made him more human in their eyes. For me, it was proof enough for me to know that his human side was still there and still in need. He may be more Auphe now than ever before, but if I could help keep that human part of him human…

Early AM had some and gone. Cal slept restlessly on, still clutched to my chest. Noontime soon followed. But it wasn't until about two in the afternoon that he finally decided to return to the world.

Robin and Promise had left us around midnight. I'd thanked them and would do so again. Only the truest of friends stick around to clean vomited remains of a little brother damaged carpet. Strangely enough though, they were the subject of Cal's first coherent thought after he woke.

Head still on my chest, his left hand tapped the back of mine where it sat in my lap. His voice was rough but soft.

"Think Promise and Robin enjoyed the puke-fest?"

I grinned briefly. There he was, as I knew he would be…my brother. And I knew that the memories of the flashback had begun to fade.

"Probably not. I'm sure they both would have much preferred to be elsewhere. They stayed though. Good friends."

"Yeah," another tap to my hand, "Good friends." The tapping stopped long enough for Cal to over focus on a deep breath. He kept it from shuddering…almost. "Stinks in here. Surprised you didn't call in a cleaning crew the second my insides started turning outside. They could have caught the puke in mid-air, right before it landed on your or the carpet." The humor in his words was strained. And I knew he was more on automatic pilot than anything. I'd seen it too many times to know any differently.

"Stop talking, Cal." I said gently, turning his hand in mine so that I was the tapper now.

There was a long pause, before, "Sorry, Nik." Not an apology for the strained humor, but for everything else. He knew it wasn't needed. He knew I didn't appreciate when he apologized for things outside of his control. Especially something such as this. It was

my fault, at least partially, that the Grendel…Auphe had ever taken to Tumulus in the first place. I'd failed in protecting him. I hadn't been as prepared as I'd thought. I'd lost my brother and by some miracle had gotten him back. None of the blame for the nightmare in Auphe Hell would ever fall on his shoulders. Not from where I stood.

"Not accepted, Cal. You know that. Don't make me lecture your putrid self in the ways of blame and apologies."

He snorted. "Putrid is right." There was a struggle to drag his sluggish body out of the crook it had been nestled in for the last however many hours. Upon rising, I saw the exhaustion and worry lines in his face. No, not worry lines; creases. Creases on his face from where it had been plastered in the same position for what seemed like eternity. Cal passed me a small smile from his crooked sleep-ridden face. "Damn, I really do stink. So do you. Maybe worse than me." He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed. Shaky on his feet, I was up to steady him and walk him towards the bathroom, but not before he saw the stained mess left on the carpet.

"Your Vampin'Puck Cleaning Service needs practice, huh?"

"Might do well to just replace the carpet. I can take the money for that out of your hide once you're feeling better."

"Ha ha. You shouldn't joke like that Cyrano. I know you'll do it. Hey," he said, tugging on my shirt and gray eyes peering downward as we entered the bathroom. "I lost a sock. Damn it to hell. That was the only sock I had that didn't have holes. I'll miss it."

I shook my head. "Cal, I will get you new socks. Sit down." I eased him down onto the closed toilet lid and pulled his rancid tee shirt over his head. The protest was only slight.

"Nik. I'm not six. I can get my own shirt off."

"Probably, but no."

"Don't touch my pants. Big brother or not, some things are sacred."

"Must I remind you that I changed your diapers?"

"Do you want to make me puke again?"

I reached over to the tub and ran the bath water. Soapy and hot. It worked for him as a baby, toddler, and even into his teens when he was feeling miserable. It worked for him now. I'd leave him to it, but before I did, I cupped my hands around his face and leaned my forehead to his. I felt the change of emotion in his breathing.

"You're okay, little brother. Safe. I swear it."

It took him a long second, but he did respond, without moving away from my touch. "I know, Nik. You're here. Most of it is already blurring its way into the hidden dungeon that is my mind anyway. I can only see small pieces of whatever. It's okay now. You saved my sorry ass again. You're always saving it."

"That sorry ass is my responsibility. Always has been. Since the first time I chang…"

He pulled away quickly that time. "No! Don't say it again! Jesus, Cyrano. I just puked up my last eight meals. You want I should try for number nine?"

Just to annoy him, I stuck a hand up and ruffled his already mussed hair. "Just wash with soap please. And don't use all of my herbal soap, it's expensive. And leave the door open. And don't stay in too long, you'll shrivel up."

He glanced down. "You are a cruel man."

"I meant your fingers, you moron. Although…"

"Out, damn it! Out! Can't a man take a bath in peace without being harassed about shriveling body parts?"

I left the bathroom but turned back when Cal stuck his head out of the doorway.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks, Nik. For every damn second of every damn day, but…last night…I needed my big brother. You were there, just like you always are."

"Yeah. Love you too, little brother. Now, get in the damn tub before I come in there and bathe you myself or worse, stand you out naked in the street and squirt you down with icy hose water while telling the world about how I changed your diapers as an infant."

That did it. He was gone. I smiled to myself and retreated to the workout room to pummel my punching bag into the ground. My turn in the bathroom was a ways off, and until then, I needed some way to release my own pent up emotions. Beating the hell out of an inanimate object seemed like the right way to go. We'd defeated this round and had come out sane. In our world, waking up sane one morning to the next was nothing short of a miracle.

Before I took my first swing at the sand bag, I glanced once more down the hall toward the bathroom door. Cal would be a while, I knew. I'd be patient and wait for him, just as I'd done since that first minute I ever laid my gray eyes on his. At that moment, even at the tender age of four, I knew I was no longer alone in the world. I knew in that tiny pinprick of time, that I finally had someone. To look after. To care for. To joke with. To be angry with. To love and to be loved by. I knew I had a little brother. It didn't matter if half of him was a red-eyed, needle-toothed, creature from Hell. He was my brother, and in that first moment of life, I loved him, and to this day, despite often times being tempted to strangle him with dental floss and pin his smart-assed mouth shut with a super glue/duct tape combo…I still do.

The End