Cultorture Ch 4

The devil is in the details

Dean and Caleb watched what was going on through the window of the basement. They were obviously preparing an incantation. There were all kinds of herbs on a table and a copper bowl with a mortar was ready. Next to it was a ritual, curved dagger, and a man in a black robe that was covered with the same strange marks that were scratched on Darla's stomach.

Dean whispered in Caleb's ear.

"Why are they starting the preparations, they still need a girl, right?"

The older hunter shrugged his shoulders slightly, he couldn't say anymore that his psychic abilities were offline. He had to find out what it was. They were about to change their position when Reaves was hit hard to the head and he fell unconscious. Dean didn't have time to react, just a second to turn around, his hand on the holster and the handle of his pistol, as he was knocked out with the stock of a rifle as well.

*** SPN *** BH AU ***

Dean felt dizzy. Noises reached his ear. His head hurt and he felt something wet on the back of his head. He tried not to move so he could eavesdrop on his opponents. Dean had been trained by his father from childhood on what to do in case of capture. He had to use every advantage he got.

How could they have been so inattentive that they were both taken by surprise? Damien! Where was he? Dean tried to concentrate on calling mentally. Damien, where are you? Their connection went unanswered. Dean panicked a bit, but quickly got himself back under control. Don't breathe faster, he told his body and continued to listen to assess the situation. The voices could finally be assigned. A man was moving across the room. His heavy footsteps echoed off the wooden floor. It smelled slightly musty. They had to be in the basement that they had observed. There were more people in the room, he could feel it.

"Where are the others, the time window is closing, go look where they are."

Footsteps moved away and climbed up the stairs to disappear quickly through a door that was thrown back into the lock. Dean tested his bonds. They were made of iron. That would be more difficult. Desperately he tried to dislocate his thumb without moving to get his hand free. He stopped when he heard the door again. There were more this time. He recognized the voice. It was one of the men they had met outside that afternoon.

"You have good connections at the hospital, Dan, that's for sure. After that, it was a breeze."

"Let me go! You're hurting me!"

"Common, princess, like we haven't had a lot of fun together?"

That was Darla's voice, Dean was sure it meant Mac was here too or ... no, Mac was fine, anything else was not acceptable. Focus man. They have all girls now. Where's Damien? They will start soon, he said they ran out of time. Dean risked a look through almost closed eyes. He hung his head, otherwise, they would immediately notice that he was awake.

He could make out Damien's boots and jeans about ten feet in front of him in the middle of the room. He was chained as far as he could tell. Also, he was in a kind of circle of red paint or blood. Was that a demon trap? That would be a good time for Mac to appear. Dean started to get his hands free again. Damien had seemingly passed out. Otherwise, he would not be lying tied up unmoving on the floor. Dean knew about the panic his friend got when he was tied down. Someone kicked his leg hard.

"Well, nice that you keep us company, how was it at Melody's?"

His state was detected, so he opened his eyes. The guy who kicked him roughly grabbed Dean's hair and pulled his head back to look into his face.

"But anyhow I'm glad you came back, otherwise one of us would have had to serve and honestly I heard such a demon possession is no picnic."

"You damn sons of bitches don't dare!"

Anger welled up in Dean. His interlocutor roughly patted the younger hunter on the cheek and let go of his hair. Dean snorted in frustration. Damien groaned slightly only to realize shortly afterward that he was in a hopeless situation. Restrained.

While Reaves struggled against the shackles that pinned him to the floor with arms and legs outstretched, Darla was pushed to the other girls further back in the room, where each was handcuffed to a ring on the wall that hung over their heads.

"Everyone to their places now. Our volunteers are already perky."

The man started with a mantra in Latin, Dan went to the girls who started screaming hysterically. Dean now tried desperately to get free. He continued to watch what was happening. His gaze met Caleb's. Dean looked at him apologetically. Caleb frowned, not understanding what was about to happen. But Caleb began to panic, and it wasn't just the shackles. He saw around him as best he could and found that he was lying in a red circle. A demon trap. He felt sick. He felt like time had been turned back and he was trapped in the boiler room with Daniel Elkins again. His heart was beating faster and he was starting to breathe way too fast.

Dan meanwhile hadn't done much to the girls, just cut each one with the dagger and collected the girls' blood in a goblet to put it back on the altar. There he ground up a bundle of herbs and mixed everything, and bent down with the goblet over Caleb. He tried to wriggle away when Dan painted his forehead and chest with signs. Then he left the circle again to position himself sideways.

The ground shook slightly and a rush filled the air. Thick black smoke came in through the window. Dean could already taste the sulfur on his tongue. The smoke crept closer and closer to Reaves like a snake to finally force itself down his throat. Caleb screamed with all his might. His body strained to burst, that his back lifted off the ground until all the smoke threatened to suffocate him and crawled down his throat. After that, he lost all strength and his body slumped back to the ground.

Dean desperately tore his hands out of the cuffs when he had to watch the agony of his friend and finally got his hand free. Everyone was focused on the ritual. Dean had previously discovered their weapons under the wooden stairs and rolled over there skillfully to grab his pistol. The two watchers had noticed his movement and were already walking towards him. Dean shot twice, aimed at the one who went down. The other kicked the gun out of his hand. Dean rolled over and picked up the next item from their arsenal. It was a machete.

Caleb felt the cold black smoke seep into him and he gasped for air. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, all he could still see was darkness. A small part felt familiar. Hidden behind a door, it lurked to be let out. The black smoke pushed the psychic deeper and deeper into the hidden corners of his mind. He wanted to flee, but where to? The darkness came closer.

Air. He had to breathe, but he just couldn't. His back bumped against the familiar door. It only existed in his NYC apartment. He tore it open to hide there between the pictures. The beast he released from the room would now face the dark invasion. He crouched behind an easel and tried desperately to breathe.

Mackland forced his eyes open. He found himself on the carpet of the motel room. He struggled to his feet. He felt sick and his head was aching. As soon as he made it into an upright position, he vomited. As a doctor he diagnosed himself with a concussion and against better judgment he struggled to his feet and staggered to the table on which he had placed his phone. Thank god it was still there. He quickly pressed the speed dial button two. It rang for an infinity. When his son didn't answer he tried Dean, also without success. Only now did he notice the text message. It was hours old. His son had sent him the coordinates of the house Darla fled from. If the two didn't answer, something was wrong. With his headache, he didn't even have to try to call Caleb mentally. Dr. Ames dialed another number. It rang 3 times when the grumpy voice of his brother in arms greeted him.

"Winchester."

"John. Where are you? I need you here."

"Mack what the hell is going on? I'm about to enter Colorado Springs and want to pick up Dean."

Mackland gave John the address and briefly told him what had happened. After that he struggled to his doctor's bag to find at least a few Tylenol.

*** SPN BH ***

He opened his black eyes. This body was young and strong, and Astnaroth liked it.

Why was he chained? Pathetic humans, they really thought this could stop him. He had finally escaped the agony of hell. He wouldn't lose his new freedom so fast. The demon yanked at the shackles, which were torn with a violent jerk from the floor bolts. He did the same with the ankle cuffs.

The demon summoner watched in horror as his ritual went completely out of control. His demon glared at him with black eyes and an amused grin played on his borrowed lips. He stepped closer to the edge of the circle and couldn't go any further. At first he looked confused, but then angry.

"Argh, what's that supposed to be? Let me out of here and I'm sure we'll find an appropriate reward for you."

The cultist leader fell backward over his creature and crawled further away from the demon trap. Suddenly Caleb's body went to its knees. He propped himself up with his hands and choked. Dark veins formed around his black eyes and an inhuman scream echoed through the cellar.

"What have you done! What's this! Another presence?"

Meanwhile, Dean found himself in an awkward position on the floor. His opponent was well trained and gave him no opportunity. They whirled around, but as soon as the hunter had the upper hand, his attacker hit him hard in his side. A sharp pain went through his abdomen. The bastard must have had a hidden blade.

The door flew open with a violent kick and John Winchester flew in like an angel of vengeance. The first thing he saw was his son, who was just slumped when a rather tall guy grabbed his hair, pulled and exposed the unprotected throat of his son in order to perform the fatal blow with a knife. John didn't have to think. His weapon and he were like a well-rehearsed team. His hand pulled the trigger penetrated from behind in the head of the giant, who immediately fell to the ground and released Dean from his grip.

John was quickly with Dean, who was holding the bleeding with his hand.

"Help Damien Dad. I'm fine."

John nodded briefly and turned to Caleb in the Demon Trap. The sight shocked even him. His protégé's body writhed in pain. The completely black eyes embodied everything John hated. But the knight had never seen those deep purple lines on possessed people before. He hesitated. Still dizzy, Mac stumbled down the stairs behind John. When he stopped behind John and looked around him, he drew in a shocked breath.

"John, is he possessed?"

"I ... I don't know ..."

"What's the matter with you guys, of course he is. Help him god damn it before that thing hurts him. Hurry! Ahhmph ."

Dean struggled on what only caused him additional pain.

"Come on, John, do what needs to be done. He's strong, he will make it. I'll stay with Dean."

John turned to the Demon-Caleb and began the exorcism.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica ..."

Dean didn't understand why John and Mack hesitated until he realized what it was. It was never a serious issue between them. Damien most took all poking about his demonic inheritance with wit, and even secretly loved his nickname. But Dean couldn't completely deny it after what happened with Echnon's blade. It didn't change for Dean how he felt about his now blood brother, but now they had to consider how much Caleb was influenced. Could the exorcism harm him?

"... audi nos."

John ended the litany with the words of which the demon had fought back in pain but now slipped out of Caleb's body in a long cloud of black smoke to go back to hell. His body collapsed and he lay still.

Caleb still couldn't breathe, wondering why he wasn't passed out yet, or was he already? After all, he was trapped in his own head. When a wave of pain hit him, however, he stopped thinking about breathing. It felt like every fiber of his being was torn apart. He started screaming. Why didn't anyone help him? The tearing turned into pure fire, the pain as impossible as it could be, intensifying until he collapsed mentally as well.

John stepped to the demon trap and broke the red line with his knife. He knew that he couldn't get Caleb out of the trap while it was intact. He felt for a pulse with trembling fingers. He got restless and changed the place until he found it, weak but it was there. He let out a relieved breath without realizing that he was holding it. Air. Caleb wasn't breathing!

His mentor wasted no more time and tilted Reave's head slightly back and started to push air in his lounges. Mac looked quickly over to John and was horrified to see what was going on over there. It hit the doctor like a déjà-vus and he saw himself fighting for the life of his 12-year-old son. Dean grabbed Mac by the lapel.

"Mac? What's happening?"

"Take it easy. He'll make it, son. Do not move."

Mac tried his best to stop the bleeding of the stab wound.

Finally Caleb coughed and gasped for breath. Blood spat from his mouth and nose with every new cough.

"Easy Junior. Breathe. That's it. Breathe!"

John held Caleb and supported him until his breathing became even. Caleb tried with little strength to hold on to his mentor's jacket, but gave up immediately when the pain shut through his wrist.

The knight frowned at the broken gesture and examined Caleb's wrists. Deep red rings were drawn around both of them. They could be broken.

"John-ny…wher…s…Deuce? The girls?"

TBC

A/N: please review and feed the muse.