Caleb
There was part of the hunter that remembered the process of being transported to the local police station. It was something he recognized from his first foray into the world of criminal justice when he was wrongfully accused of murdering his wife. However, even when he could remember feeling enraged at being brought in for her death, there had been part of him that believed he would be acquitted.
And he was.
This time, he held no such compunctions when the evidence against him was overwhelming. He may have known how innocent he was of the charges against him, but the people who had the power of keeping him locked up for the rest of his life, did not. To them, he was the killer of the sweet young darling of the community. For that, they wanted blood.
Watching the streets pass by on the (seemingly) long drive to the police station, he could feel his heart lodge in his throat when he noticed the exit that was supposed to take him home. Having that street disappear from view, only served to remind him of what he was facing and how unlikely it would be for him to return home.
Swallowing the tears that pushed to make an appearance, he could see the officers each wore expressions of loss for the woman. It was just his luck that this girl happened to be the daughter of a prominent businessman. Thinking about everything he faced with a probable murder case that promised to be brought to full fruition, he wondered how he was not buckling under the pressure of it.
The boys were the two beings he thought of the most. How sweet and innocent they were even after all the hell they had been put through. Sam was still a little boy, and still ignorant of the true dangers in the world. How was he supposed to feel about having his guardian incarcerated? And what about Dean? Out of the two of them, he would be able to understand a lot more than his brother would.
Unable to stop the few tears that slipped past his eyes, he was aware of the police car moving away from the traffic of a busy night, and into the more secluded section of town that included the police station. Watching as his view changed from having a street view, to now seeing the inside of the parking garage, it was then he realized how utterly real this was.
Not willing to relinquish the last shred of freedom he had before he stepped out of the car, he hesitated to follow their instructions before he slid his body forward and got out. The air was cold, a reflection of both the coldness outside and how he felt within himself. Suppressing the shudder that passed down his spine, he kept walking. There was no choice.
The police station was as painfully bright as he remembered from before. Understanding what was expected, he walked over to the long counter that stood as a buffer between him and the staff behind it. Bending down, his hands were trembling like a leaf while he untied his shoes and placed them on the counter, along with everything else the police missed.
The one small mercy he was allowed through the thickening pain that ensnared his heart, was permission to wear his wedding ring. That was the only leniency he was given for the time being, before they rushed him through the booking process and assigned him a cell.
It all happened so quick that his head was spinning. Sitting at the end of the bench that took the place of a cot, he cradled his head in his hands. His first phone call after they finished the booking process, had been to Dawn. She was on her way to see him, and also to walk him through the next steps that would be taken in the case.
That was the only bright spot in a world that seemed to be closing in on him. The one phone call he was allowed to have, had been used to call his lawyer. There was no telling when he would have the chance to call his family and tell them what happened. They would be worried, especially Jim, who knew what he was hunting.
Raising his head when he felt (more than he saw) the presence of someone in the cell with him, he would have laughed if his spirit had not been so broken. Of course he would land in a jail that had a spirit problem. Without the weapons needed to put it down, the danger he and the other prisoners would face, would be astronomical.
There was nothing he could do except hope the spirit would choose not to crush him to death in his sleep, or harm the other inmates. Glancing around as though he expected to find the source of the "feeling" he received, he saw nothing. Blowing into his hand once he could feel the apparent coldness in the air, his heart dropped when he saw thin white mist that was a product of how cold it was.
Standing up when he felt better doing so, he took another look around the cell he was in and noticed how old it was. Coming from a construction background had gifted him with the knowledge of being able to identify the approximate age of a structure.
Studying the peeled paint on the walls, and ascertaining that the materials used to for the cell were supplies manufactured back in the 1800s, was a bitter pill to swallow. Anything could have happened to an inmate during that time, and now that same person was most likely back for revenge.
The challenge would be to figure out where the spirit was, and how to kill it without having access to the tools he needed. Pacing the cell was something that gave him clarity of mind when his brain was nothing more than a jumbled mess of pain, he wondered if anyone in the jail had fallen victim to the spirit besides him.
Not that he would get the chance to track it when his every movement would be tightly controlled by the corrections officers. There would be no access to the supplies he needed, and certainly no permission to dig up a grave and burn bones. In a way, he felt naked without that protection he came to rely on during jobs.
Washing his hands down his face when he thought of the ramifications of being exposed to the spirit when he had nothing to help him, he wondered how Dawn would craft a defense that would prove to be indisputable to a jury. The temptation to doubt her when his circumstances were as terrible as they were, was overwhelming. However, he also knew how capable she was of making a miracle out of a hopeless situation.
With that reassurance taking root in his mind, he did not resist when the guards returned to his holding cell to retrieve him. Swallowing the influx of nausea that hit him when he realized what these people thought of him and how it dictated their actions, he allowed them to do what they had to chain him up and lead him down the winding halls toward the conference room where he was allowed to hold meetings with his lawyer.
Another favor came from Dawn being able to successfully arrange to meet with her client in the privacy of a room and not around other inmates and guards. Of course, security would be stationed outside the door, but he would gladly take this time with her. The section of hall that was allotted for meetings, was separated by an electronic keypad that required a code.
Marveling at how secure this facility was, he supposed he could not be too surprised when this place was designed to hold criminals. Unable to think of himself that way when he knew it was not true, he shook off the mounting trepidation he had and kept walking.
Ignoring his discomfort for the moment when he knew how close he was getting to meeting with his friend, he paid no mind to the hold the guards had on him. He would endure whatever he had to in order to be allowed the chance to see Dawn. The marked numbers on the doors, were getting smaller. With that, he hoped he was getting that much closer to seeing her.
When they finally did make him pause outside the door he assumed she was in, he felt his heart give a leap of excitement when he thought about meeting her. Dawn had a way of making her clients feel confident in their chances of beating the charges against them, even when the case was irrefutable. In those moments, he was counting on her to be that for him.
To his relief, the guards took off the waist chain that further prohibited his movements. Being able to move somewhat freely without the use of it, was liberating for him. Closing his eyes, and allowing himself to feel a small amount of peace in knowing that he had an excellent lawyer to help him, he walked into the room when the guards typed in the admission code.
Dawn was sitting at the table; her dirty blond hair swept to one side of her face. When the door opened to admit him, he could see her eyes soften when she looked at him.
Waiting to speak until the guards left after they seated him, he slowly shook his head at everything that happened in such a short time. There was nothing that could have prepared him for finding the woman's body, and then being faced with murder for her death. The evidence was overwhelming, but he held the naive idea that it might not matter.
At least not with Dawn. With her, she could always make an impossible situation, not that impossible. He wondered if his odds of beating the murder charge would be as easy as last time when the police caught him red-handed. His head was spinning with the seriousness of what he was confronting, and the only person who was able to make some of that fear go away, was the woman who was sitting across from him.
Words failed him: If it was not the realization of what he was facing, it was certainly the restraints he was forced to wear that only cemented the view the jail had of him. He longed to be able to tell them the truth, to tell them that a monster far beyond their craziest dreams was the real culprit.
"I would ask how you are, but it's written all over your face." Dawn was the first one to speak. Her tone was the same as he remembered from the last time he spoke with her. It was a tone that was equal parts soothing and authoritative.
"I'm crappy, that's how I am."
Dawn nodded, her hand resting on a case file he assumed was from the police. Not surprising to him in the least, they already had witness statements and a possible list of charges from the prosecutor. Of course none of that would come to play if they did not decide to charge him with the crime, but he had a feeling their words of assurance that he was only being "questioned" was a lie to keep him submissive and calm. Their actions had done everything to convince him that they knew they already had their killer.
The file Dawn was clutching, was further proof of that theory. It was difficult to talk to anyone about what he was going through, when he could not find the words needed to accurately describe it. With Dawn, he knew he should feel secure in confiding in her when he had known her as long as he had.
"I'm not going to say 'I understand' or try to pacify you by saying stuff that probably won't make you feel any better. I will, however, tell you that this will resolve itself."
Typical Dawn. She knew exactly what to say to him, and did not try what so many others would have in her position. Unlike other lawyers, she did not try to sugarcoat anything and did not try to sympathize with him when she had no real understanding of what it was like.
In that moment, he appreciated it more than she could understand.
It was yet another reason why he held so much faith in her. With Dawn, there was nothing that she was incapable of mastering. Even a murder case that seemed open and shut. To her, that was nothing more than an incidental that she would sweep under the rug with her swift way of debating with prosecutors and winning over a courtroom.
Even the spirit problem he was facing while he was locked up, did not hold the same weight over him when he was with her. Being in the situation he was and knowing there was a hunt within the walls of the jail, was not anything he was expecting. However, he also figured that he would have to do something fast before a death occurred that could have been prevented.
"When you say that it will resolve itself-" Caleb began, hoping he could take her words literally.
"I mean that literally," Dawn confirmed, nodding her head. "I've already spoken with several people who not only provide you with an alibi, but also have reasons to believe it could have been someone else."
There was a part of Caleb that wondered why exactly he was so stunned she had everything lined up. Over and over again, Dawn proved herself worthy of not only his respect, but also in saving his life and his family's life from the various legal scenarios they found themselves tangled in. Although she did not yet know what it was he did that so often got himself in trouble, she knew enough to trust him.
"How am I still surprised you manage to do this?"
"To be honest, I don't know," Dawn shrugged. "All I know is that I go to bat for my friends, and I won't stop until I get a good result."
That was good enough for him.
"What do you have? I mean, in terms of this alibi?"
There was barely anything Caleb remembered from that night. He certainly could not remember the people he interacted with before the killing happened. If Dawn was able to somehow scrounge up a person he talked to while the murder happened? That would all but guarantee his release once his arraignment happened. Or even a preliminary hearing if the judge deemed fit to deny him bail.
In answer to his inquiry, Dawn reached for the folder she had been resting her arm on. There were too many documents for him to name. It was astounding to him that her head never exploded from the wealth of information she was always bombarded with.
"The police estimate the murder happened at around-" Dawn said, lifting her hand for emphasis. "9:05. This man, Connor Welks, informed me that you two talked at 9:00."
In the midst of heartache and confusion that sometimes threatened to topple him with the sheer amount of force it was slamming him with, he felt hope for the first time since his arrest. Now that Dawn reminded him of the man he nearly forgot in the hassle of what happened, he could feel his spirit lift with the indescribable knowledge that she may have acquitted him before a trial even happened.
Shaking his head, speechless with gratitude and a relief that pushed through his soul to combat the hopelessness he felt only minutes before, he saw Dawn slide her hand across the table to hold his. Physical contact was forbidden during the meetings, but he had the sneaking suspicion she could have cared less. Squeezing her hand, feeling tears of absolution fall down his face, he could see her own eyes water before she regained control over herself.
"I talked to him before the police picked me up. He was helping me." There was so much he wanted to tell her about the secret life he led, but he stopped himself from going further.
Dawn nodded. "He told me that, too. He never really went into detail, but he said it would have been physically impossible for you to have committed the murder."
"Will his testimony be the only thing this judge needs to release me?"
Nothing this good happened to him without there being some kind of hitch associated with it. It was that skeptical part of him that held him back from experiencing the full rush of euphoria that accompanied her words. Clasping his cuffed hands in front of him, he could see Dawn visibly struggle to answer his question. Her eyes were still soft, but they now held a gleam of determination he only ever saw when they were going to war.
"It won't be what gets you released, unfortunately. The physical evidence is what needs to be processed and delivered to the judge. Only then, will he be able to make a determination at the preliminary hearing."
"What about my arraignment?"
Dawn winced, squeezing his hand harder. Her touch would have usually given him a jolt of energy and hope, but now he felt dread. If the judge would be waiting to get more concrete proof of his innocence, he could not imagine how long he would have to tough it out in jail.
"The evidence won't all be there in time for that. It's in two days."
"What is he waiting for?"
"The DNA evidence that will be collected from your clothes and knife. If her blood is on the clothes and weapon, it will be difficult to prove you weren't there."
Caleb was about to respond to the disheartening news she was giving him, but words simply escaped him when he saw the spirit begin to materialize behind Dawn. Opening and closing his mouth several times in horror at what was happening that he was powerless to prevent, he looked around for anything that could be used to defend her.
Dawn looked perplexed, wondering why Caleb had the kind of look he knew was on his face. The spirit opened her mottled mouth to say something that was unintelligible to Caleb. Glancing around the table that was full of his case files, and the few things Dawn was allowed to bring into the room with her, he saw nothing that would help.
The one object made of iron capable of hindering the ghost, was the fixture that was nailed to the wall. The ghost's wispy red hair was flowing wildly in the wind that was present in the room. Willing himself to stay calm, and hope the spirit decided to go away, he watched the spirit move around Dawn and glide over to where he sat defenseless around the restraints he was in.
Inching back in his seat, he could see Dawn watching him with a look on her face that let him know she had no clue what was happening. Either this spirit was able to hide its appearance, or Dawn could not see it. Either way, he was hoping that would stay true. Swallowing against the rock in his throat when he watched the spirit step around the table barring her path, she eased up to him and thrust her hand into his chest as though it was made of nothing but the finest silk.
The pain from the sudden attack was nothing compared to the scream that came from Dawn when the spirit chose to reveal itself to her, and from what she could see it doing to her friend. Giving Dawn a look as he tried to get away from the attack, he directed his gaze to the light on the wall that would get rid of it. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest as the spirit twisted her hand deeper into his chest cavity.
"Caleb-"
"Get...the...light…" Caleb choked, using all of the strength he possessed to keep fighting.
Dawn instantly obeyed his command, and scrambled from her place to the light on the wall that was made of iron. Using her brute force to tear the object from its stand, she crossed the room a single stride, and used her instinct to slash the spirit that was harming her friend.
"What was that?" Dawn demanded, her hands trembling violently.
Caleb wished he could give her an answer that would help her understand. "What I do."
