Interlude
Disclaimer: All things Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke et al. I own nothing of their universe.
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Caleb closed his phone. Neither Dean nor Sam was answering. That could be bad news. He'd been unable to find out anything about the creature doing the killing using his own resources so he'd called in the big guns: Bobby. That man had more esoteric books at his fingertips than almost anyone else Caleb knew. And he had answered his phone. Theirs was a select, tightly-knit group. Only a few people could truly call John Winchester and his boys friends. Both Caleb and Bobby were a part of that group although Bobby had tried to shoot John once; he'd been provoked. That didn't really matter. Not now. Not when Sam and Dean's lives were at risk.
Caleb had been reduced to pacing the floor waiting for Bobby's call. When the phone finally rang, it practically squirted out of his hands in his haste to open the damn thing. Bobby had found something he thought relevant in an old book of French lore. There was mention of a creature called a cauchemar. This thing would pulverize a person's volition, plunder his emotions, and bring terrible dreams to those who could see them. It fed off of its victims' emotions while it drained them until nothing was left but a husk. The description of those thus killed left little doubt in Caleb's mind that this could be their creature. The only defense against it was pure iron. Caleb had muttered thanks with the vague promise of calling once all was resolved before hanging up.
The information about "dreamers" stuck in Caleb's head. Several months ago he'd received a call from Pastor Jim. Dean had started calling him for guidance. Sam's girlfriend had been murdered like Mary Winchester had been, and he was plagued by nightmares. To make matters worse, he'd had a prophetic dream; more than one actually. That had really freaked Dean out. He fought the supernatural all the time but to have it happen to Sammy scared him. Sam needed Dean to be cool about it, but it had been hard. Dean had broken down one night and, instead of hustling pool, had spent several hours on the phone with Jim talking through his fears. Jim, upon receiving permission, had called Caleb to alert him in case the boys dropped by. John wouldn't answer his phone so Jim had stood in loco parentis for advice. If this thing did go after "dreamers," Sam was in a lot of trouble. The cauchemar would be able to make him see whatever it wanted and feed off the resulting emotions. Damn! That boy was a twisted bundle of emotions. He probably looked like a tall tasty treat to the thing. Dean wouldn't allow Sam to be something's dinner but Dean wasn't answering his phone.
Caleb tried to call Dean again. Still voicemail. Tried Sam. Same thing. What, had they picked up their father's bad habit? Caleb checked his watch. It had been too long without an answer. Something was wrong, and it was his fault the Winchesters were involved. He dug through his storage chest for a solid iron weapon. Finding a forged knife, he re-sheathed it before threading it onto his belt. He grabbed his coat off its hook and ran to his car. He had a few hours' drive and a lot of planning to do.
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A/N: Please let me know what you think of this story now.
I got the story of the cauchemar from a book of legends called Night Creatures. The thing sounded too cool not to use in a story. The Latin name for this thing is incubus.