Cultorture

Chapter 5 - Struggle within

"John-ny … where is Deuce? ... the girls?"

Dean heard his friend's words that he said brokenly to his mentor. Ten feet away, only ten feet, and yet not manageable right now. The pain was bad, even if Dean knew how to deal with pain. He hoped the bastard hadn't gotten anything important. He huffed hard and stifled a cry of pain while Mac expertly put on a pressure bandage. He had to speak to Damien, assure him that he was okay.

"Damien ... I'm here ... it's all right."

Caleb heard Dean's voice and knew he was hurt. He would notice the slightest difference in his voice, even without his abilities. By the way, he noticed that they were still blocked. His wrists hurt so much as he tried to hold onto John that tears welled up in his eyes. He tried to breathe deeply in and out so as not to lose his mind about what had just happened to him. He felt dirty and used.

John helped Caleb to his feet and brought him to his father and next to Dean.

"Hey Ace, are you okay?"

Dean nodded with compressed lips. How Caleb knew and hated this spectacle. Dean was pale as a sheet. Caleb looked questioningly at Mac. What he saw did not calm him down a bit. His father didn't look good either. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead and he tried to keep control of his body. But he wouldn't make it for much longer.

"Dad, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Caleb instinctively reached out to Mackland's forehead, only to be rewarded with a stab of pain through his wrist.

"My head is just buzzing. One of those guys knocked me out. Let me see your hand son."

Dr. Ames inspected the dark welts. Caleb winced at the touch and drew in a breath.

"We have to get Dean to the hospital and have your wrists x-rayed there."

"And you let them look after your head."

*** BH AU ***

John left the boys in Mac's skilled doctor's hands and took care of freeing the girls. They huddled together after he had removed each of the shackles. Their hair was disheveled and some had marks on their faces from blows. One, however, didn't look too worn out. She also addressed the knight at once.

"Are Caleb and Dean okay?"

"They will be. Are you okay?"

Darla nodded and took one of the girls in her arms. She looked very much like her. John would bet she was her sister. He suddenly looked around in a hurry. Where was the demon summoner? His two dead henchmen lay on the floor. But he was nowhere to be seen. Damn it! Now they had to get the injured out of here first. He would take care of it later.

Darla proved to be of great help with the girls, calming them down and taking care of the cuts. After everyone was finally accommodated in a car, John drove to the hospital with Mac, Dean, and Caleb on board.

Darla had made it her business to bring the girls back home. Now all John had to do was come up with a useful story for the doctors. The best thing was to stay as close as possible to the truth. In the end, this turned into a hair-raising story about a bar brawl in which Dean had received a knife wound, Caleb had fallen miserably and got tangled in a rope, and Mac was hit on the head by a bottle.

The doctor raised an eyebrow and suggested how much he bought their story, but Dr. Ames's name made the story more believable that he asked no further questions.

Caleb waited in the treatment room for his cast. A wrist was broken. The other was only badly bruised. He was restless and wanted to see Dean. Fortunately, his connection with the younger hunter was back online since they left the cursed property. Otherwise, he would have gone up the walls. Dean was fine. He was just in pain, Caleb was sure.

"Hey, Deuce. I'm sorry our trip ended like this. What does the doc say?"

Dean held the bandaged side and straightened up with difficulty. He didn't have to fool Caleb. The psychic knew him inside out. Still no need to make a chick flick moment out of such a scratch.

"Don't worry, I'll be back. Isn't it typical for us? What about you? Can I paint something nice on your cast?"

"Definitely not, smart ass, I know it would be something pervert to be ashamed of. In four weeks I'll be like new again, luckily it's not my drawing hand."

"Damien, about what happened in the basement ... is everything okay with you?"

"Don't you worry about me?"

*** BH AU ***

Dean signed himself off AMA from the hospital. No vitals were hurt, thank goodness. He should just make sure that the seam didn't tear. Mac was also able to cure his concussion at home. John decided to give Dean some rest from the hunt.

The knight used the time and tried, but couldn't find any trace of the demon summoner. He could only hope that he had burned his fingers and didn't dare play with fire again.

Caleb was silent the whole time, too silent somehow. No rude comments, no jokes with Dean. Mac thought it best to fly home to NYC with his son for the time being. He would rather have seen Caleb stay with him for a few days, but his son didn't think so when they arrived at Mac's late in the evening.

"No dad, I'm really fine. I just want a bit of rest and have to see how I distribute the tasks at Tricorp, for some tasks I am absent for the time being."

"But we'll meet here with John and Dean tomorrow night, I expect you back then."

"Of course Dad."

Caleb knew Mac was just pretending to be. But he didn't want to answer Mac's questions because he wasn't even sure what had happened to him in the basement. At least not today.

He pushed the door behind him once he was in his apartment by leaning against it. He just dropped his bag. The psychic leaned his head back on the cool material of the apartment door and let himself slide down. Finally alone. He could let down all of his guards. He hadn't been alone for a second after the events. He needed to think. Now everything was catching up with him again.

Caleb Reaves, the future Knight of the Brotherhood, was overwhelmed. Tears ran down his cheeks indignantly. He felt torn and upset and he was scared. He couldn't place what had happened, where had this dark being come from that had stood in the way of the darkness of the summoned demon as he sat like a frightened child behind the easel in his mind and watched the battle of two dark forces rage.

He didn't want to admit it, but deep down he knew that it was part of his being. And he hated it. It was everything he hated, he didn't want it. He was tainted, soiled. He felt sick. The hunter quickly got to his feet and dived for the bathroom just off the hall. He didn't know when he'd stopped vomiting. Shivering tired and powerless, he let himself slide onto the cold tiled floor until the waves of nausea subsided and he surrendered to the faint that followed.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was staring at the white tile floor of his small bathroom. His body was cold and ached from the hard floor. Caleb got to his feet, pulling himself up by the sink, and looked in the mirror. His eyes still showed traces of the possession, many veins had burst and bloodshot. He averted his eyes and decided to take a shower.

The hot water was good for his stiff muscles and when he had put on a pair of sweatpants and a tee he left his bedroom with slightly shaky legs. Caleb climbed up the stairs to the studio at the top level where his little secret was hidden. Caleb opened the door unsure.

Nothing happened. What had he expected? Here was just him. Just him and the memories of his mother who lived in her paintings and his darkest hours when he was here to paint.

Caleb took a new canvas and placed it on the easel. Today he had to feel the color. He allowed no tool between himself and the means of expression that could distort it.

The young artist immersed himself completely in his work. He didn't eat, drink or take a break until he was done. He looked at his work. That was it. He had captured his nightmare on canvas. Caleb dropped to his knees, exhausted. His hand ached from the exertion. It couldn't be good for his bruised wrist. Mac would scold, but he had to. This was the only way he could relieve the feeling that he had threatened to suffocate. The world blurred in front of his eyes and he no longer noticed how his body gave in to exhaustion.

*** BH AU ***

"... about his eyes. Mac this wasn't a normal possession. Caleb is as dear to me as my own flesh and blood, I entrust him with my sons without batting an eyelid. But we can't just close our eyes to that."

Dean had rested long enough in Caleb's room and went into the living room. His wound was hardly an obstruction as long as he didn't pick up something or stoop. He was just not useful for hunting. But he wasn't deaf yet, he had heard the last snippets of the conversation and knew pretty much what it was about. He looked at the designer clock that was hanging on the wall. It was already 8:10 pm. Shouldn't Damien be here already?

"Maybe Jim ... oh Dean, you're up, I thought you would lie down a bit after the long drive, how are you?"

"Better, where is Damien, shouldn't he be here by now?"

Mac checked his watch and a crease formed on his forehead. He tried to find Caleb mentally. But it only gave him a headache and he quickly grabbed the aching temples.

"He must have fallen asleep. I'll drive over and call him on the way. I don't know what to do anyway. See you later."

He was out the door so fast, like he was just looking for a way to get out. He dialed Caleb's cell phone number. That it rang through to the mailbox made Dean slightly nervous. On the other hand, he pretty much knew where Damien was.

Dean unlocked the door to Caleb's apartment with his key for which he was glad now Caleb had insisted to give him his own. His bag was right by the front door. That was the first unusual thing. Dean quietly closed the lock on the door behind him. The next thing he noticed was how quiet it was.

He drew his gun and began to systematically go through the rooms. When he finally climbed up the wrought-iron spiral staircase to the room at the top. He stood before the door that was always locked, it wasn't locked today, just ajar. He carefully opened the door with the barrel of his pistol. The sight was bone-chilling. Dean had never entered the room before. It had an aura of his own. Dean's gaze fell to Amelia Reaves's pictures of seascapes until he stepped through the door and found Caleb motionless on the floor.

"Fuck! Damien!"

Dean put the gun away and was quick with his friend. His wound ached as he bent down to look at Caleb, but he ignored it. With practiced hands, he felt for a pulse and was relieved when he found it, a little weak but even.

"Hey Damien, wake up. Enough beauty-sleep. Hey."

Dean patted the psychic's cheeks lightly. But more than a grumble could not be gotten out of him.

"Damn it you stubborn donkey, I can't carry you to your bed. Mac tears my ass up when I tear the seams while I lift your heavy ass into your bed. Damien c'mon, open your eyes."

Caleb responded to his friend and forced his eyes to open.

"Deuce? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you that too. We had a meeting at Mac, what were you doing here?"

Caleb realized where they were. This room wasn't meant for others, not even for Dean, not even Mac knew what he had in here. The hunter struggled up and at least let Dean support him and bring him to his bedroom.

Even if Dean had only been in here briefly, he had not missed the picture and the black-colored hand of his friend. The picture was frightening, dark, and overwhelming. Most of the canvas was occupied by black cloud-like shapes. A figure crouched in the lower corner, frightened, disturbed.

"Ok, man talk to me, what happened in there?"

"I passed out, I haven't eaten since yesterday."

"You're starting to worry me, dude. Lie down, I'll get you something to get you fit again."

Dean had called Mac and told him they would still need a little bit. Mac apparently knew they needed to talk. A few chocolate bars and Isostar later, Caleb was ready to stop shaking.

"There was something inside of me, it was dark and it wasn't the demon. I knew I just had to let it go and it wouldn't let the demon stay. But it was scary."

Dean was a bit taken by surprise at first. If a hunter of Caleb's stature used the word scary, there was definitely something to it. He put his hand on Caleb's shoulder and looked at him intently.

"Damien, I don't care what rumors are spread about you, whether there is something to it or not. I don't know if your demonic inheritance did anything in the basement, either. But what I know is that you are not bad. You are my brother. I know you. Even if a part of you is really demonic, the crucial part is definitely one of the best men I know. I trust you blindly. Do you hear me? And now stop sinking into self-doubt. I want the old Damien back, understand?"

Caleb looked Dean straight in the eye and saw nothing but truthfulness. He was so grateful to him and he was right. The greater part of him was human, a hunter destined to become the next knight, to hunt down evil and protect the weak, to fight side by side with his brothers, and to die if necessary. He wouldn't give up fighting the darkness.

"Understood. Only one question remains."

Dean looked at him curiously.

"How do I ever get rid of demons when the exorcism is tearing every fiber of my body apart?"

"How do you know that it isn't like this for everyone?"

"Because it was like that when Elkins tried without me being possessed. It felt the same way."

"I guess that's a job for the Triad. I also heard that they were working on the problem."

"Then we don't keep Mac and Johnny waiting any longer, I suggest."

Caleb finally felt calmer and was grateful that he had a family that unconditionally accepted him for who he was. He would go to the end of the world for them, fight against the darkest demons even if they lived inside of him.

The End

A/N: I want to thank everyone who got himself for a review. This was first meant to be a small one or two-chapter thing but it turned out to be something much bigger than I even thought. I would be glad for your opinion. Something missing? Want more? Feel free to PM me.