Chapter Two

"I thought I was in heaven, but I was sure surprised. / Heaven Help me, I didn't see the devil in your eyes." Devil in Disguise – Elvis.

Fresh air, wafted the warm mid-summer Southern breeze, carrying the odour of picnics and grass and hayrides; the promise of all things restful. The sky was a glorious crisp blue with no cloud occlusions. Though the sun warmed her back as she walked with her hand in her mothers, it had not quite reached its zenith, so was not the uncomfortable inside oven temperature just yet. She examined the small white building they were approaching idly; while their Preacher gave his sermon she would have plenty of time on her hands. Pastor Seaver was filled with the zeal of God Momma said – she wasn't sure about where the "zeal" came from… but it sure went on and on! She knew it was wrong to think that way, but her and Tommy Fredrickson both agreed that if the words of the sermon were smaller, they might listen longer! Maybe? She also knew what her Momma would say to that …. Tommy Fredrickson would have a real comfy spot right next to her - burning in hellfire, for such thinking!!!!

"Cecile?" a clear slightly impatient voice cut through her train of thought "Where you planning on staying on the steps of the church throughout the service?"

Looking up she caught her Momma's tight lipped expression, out of the corner of her eye she saw Mrs Armbrewster's large frame waiting to mount the steps behind them. She knew Momma was not fond of the middle-aged town gossip. She and the ladies of her uppity sowing circle had turned down Momma's offer for help making the new Church banner for the Autumn Fair last year, saying that her "style" was a bit too modern. Momma had tried to hide how hard she had cried, and Daddy's face had been so angry that Cecile half hopped he would go round and give that awful Nancy Armbrewster , a piece of his mind- enough to choke the large heifer!!

"Sorry Momma, I was just thinking was all" she replied after what she hopped wasn't too long.

Behind her the Armbrewster woman huffed loudly and commented to her twig like husband about; young people these days having far too much time on their hands to think up mischief and then act on it!

"I can't help thinking how great the Lord is when I walk up to the Church Momma – I look forward to Pastor Seaver's sermon so much, I try to remember the last one – just to hold off my impatience … cause you said that was unbecoming a young Lady didn't you Momma?" Cecile gushed breathlessly.

Her Mother remained expressionless and the Nit picking Nancy coughed loudly behind her as if she swallowed a fly … chance would be a fine thing! After pausing to accept a fan from the usher by the door, Momma stopped just long enough to allow the couple behind to go ahead, before she leaned into Cecile and kept her voice very low.

"I swear child you have more nerve than a fox in a henhouse! But we do not use falsehoods when we are walking the steps to God's house young Lady!" her mother chided gently, her green eyes serious.

Cecile caught her tall, handsome Father's eye over her Mother's head, and fought hard not to snigger at the quick wink and approving smile he threw her, before returning to his former solemn, church going face.

"Yes Momma" she whispered back automatically.

She wasn't annoyed – Momma always tried to do what was right, Cecile and her Father would make sure others never took advantage of her Mother's good heart. So what if she got called out for it every now and then?! Papa understood!

They sat in their usual place off to the side of the main congregation's pews. Papa called it sitting on the sidelines. As she sat there she spotted Tommy Fredrickson scratching at the collar of his best shirt, only to have his hand slapped away and his top button forcibly re-done. Cecile smirked – that would teach him for making fun of the dress she currently wore. Never mind that the violet dress with the frills, was not to her liking either; her Momma had made it and he should have kept his big trap shut!!! Scuffing her shoes together she waited. Waited on the Preacher – waited on the heat, waited on her Mother's slight shove if she looked like dozing off… waited for something to happen.

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Caleb tossed restlessly in the bed Jim reserved for him at the farm. His breathing was irregular and even in his dream state he felt like a weight was pushing him down, keeping him in the Land of Nod. His subconscious freaked a little at being taken captive – this was more absorbing than a vision. The discomfort of living behind someone else's eyes while they were attacked was no bedtime story, but he had never heard thoughts so fully, felt the emotions so clearly or been entwined with another soul so closely. Bad dream, Nightmare… too much cheese before bed? All he could do was suck it up and see this thing through.

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Warm air – hot and suffocating washed the acrid smells of gasoline, smoke and burned flesh. The wrenched cries of the terrified churchgoers being slaughtered in their own place of worship echoed around her. Her Father's and Mother's arms circled her as they stooped low in the pews… hiding from the man God had elected, the man currently wielding the shot gun having already burned the church alter and locked the doors. How could this be happening? Where was God – where were his army of Angels that smote the wicked in the stories? Cecile's eyes railed against everything her brain had ever been taught – it was all a lie! The evil was here, inside God's house! He had killed Tommy – he had killed them all. There was nothing here to stop him – evil was too strong. She realised she had been screaming this whole time – her Mother's embrace was crushing her …it hardly seemed necessary as the Pastor couldn't very well single out one wretched cry from the red sea of wails, he had created in his own church! In the next instant; she was proved wrong.

The heavy oak pew flew to one side as if it were a skimmed pebble across a pond, exposing the last hiding place of the Dupree's. Cecil watched with a small disconnected part of her mind that wasn't engaged in pleading for their lives alongside her parents. Pastor Noah Seaver looked exactly the same – except his rich laughing Amber gold eyes, were twisted somehow. She realised they were no longer Amber, they were cold, hard, Yellow Gold orbs. Nor were they laughing with them anymore – they were menacingly laughing at them now. Even as he cocked his head – pausing as if to listen to her Father's broken begging, arms outstretched, stooped on his knees; Cecil knew he was toying with them. She had seen the Monsters eyes flick to her with a sickening light in them. He had already passed sentence on her family and all her instincts were telling her that; as it would cause the most amount of pain to her parents… she was first. As Seaver let her parents cry on – shakily building their false hope, she looked around her desperate for an escape route.

I Don't want to Die!!!!

Seaver's eye locked on the Dupree's only child like a magnet – and he barred his teeth in a reptilian smile.

"Too bad cupcake." he answered the unspoken thought.

Grabbing the child and hauling her bodily from her Mothers desperate clinging arms, and backhanding the Father so convincingly there was a pop of his jawbone, the Pastor hefted her up by her upper arm. The girl was scared beyond words, beyond thought – she flailed and fought against the vicelike grip he had on her, hitting herself as often as him. As he took a step towards a heartily roaring collection of front row pews, being devoured by flame, Cecile seemed to comprehend her fate and let loose one continuous scream that was unbroken even when he tossed her into the fires very heart. On and on went the cry, higher than all the other sounds – arching anguish that was carried heavenward by the smoke and the flames that destroyed her family. As the fire curled around her and the maddening pain blotted out all other thoughts her scream was the last part of her to extinguish.

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He woke in a cold sweat. Gasping and clawing for release from the linen that he had become tangled in, during the course of his dark dreams. Heat! Fire! Screams! Disorientated and still breathless, he tried to suck in a lung full of air his hands flailing outwards trying to fend off the flames he felt ghosting against his skin. Caleb landed with a heavy thud on the ground on all fours, gasping and shaking. Every calming trick in the book was failing him and his body did the one thing left to it, to disengage from the nightmare that he still felt hostage to. The burning sensation started in his violently tuning stomach, he lurched forward blindly one arm slung round his midriff, the other grasping at the door handle. In his stumbling dash across the hallway he bumped someone's shoulder – hard. But he couldn't stop – he wouldn't make it. Finally reaching the bathroom, he slung himself at the porcelain throne just in time to vomit what felt like his entire digestive tract into it.

All sounds, all sensations except that of the unforgiving heaving motion his stomach muscles were twisting themselves into forming, were gone – blocked out by the need to purge himself of the memory of the heat, the taste of the smoke and the hideously sickly smell of burning flesh. He was still short of breath – and wasn't entirely sure how long he had been on his knees. But slowly he began to be aware of his surroundings. Jim's voice began to filter through the gasping, retching noise he was sure couldn't be him – and yet his clenching stomach muscles assured him he was mistaken. The Pastor felt close – in Caleb's personal space, and his immediate instinct was to shrink back a little.

"Easy Caleb" the clergyman's firm calming tones came to him.

It was now Caleb became aware of the Pastor's steadying grasp on his shoulders as he knelt beside him on the cold tile floor. Speech was still unachievable – when air wasn't an issue – choking on his own vomit was.

"Should we call a Dr out Jim?" Bobby's gruff voice rang out from a little further back, probably standing by the door. "I learned my lesson after the last Daddy Ames lecture – I ain't aiming to go out in no hissy fight with the Scholar!"

Caleb cursed to himself. Great - both Jim and Bobby were witness to his shameful cookie toss! Though Bobby was trying for bravado, his voice was shot through with worry. This was not good – he had to snap the hell out of this!!!

Gathering every ounce of will he had Caleb managed to croak.

"M' fine…"

Bobby's snorted response was slightly relieved. "Obviously Junior … you're the picture of health!"

Jim moved his hand to Caleb's back and began to rub calming circles, as the boy appeared more able to hold himself up. Frowning heavily he searched for the words that would convey his point, without adding to the young man's already agitated state. He had not missed the fact that Reaves still could not catch his breath.

"My boy, I think it best that we discover why this…" Jim began evenly.

"Shellfish …. Lunch … mild, allergy…." Caleb panted trying again to focus on his breathing – he needed to pull it the hell together or they were going to ship him to a hospital.

"Mild allergy my AS…." Bobby exploded indignantly.

"Robert!" Jim commanded sternly. "Caleb, Roberts right about the seriousness of this – are you sure about this – allergy… does you're Father have …"

Caleb frowned huffily – always with the Dad threats! He firmed his resolve- choking down a deep breath and forcing it through metal clamped teeth repeatedly. His head was pounding and his throat was a cactus patch in Nevada, but when he spoke at least there was firmness to his voice that seemed to be suggesting the end was in sight.

"Can I get some water Bobby?" he managed at a slightly slower speed than his natural speech pattern.

The Truckers hat disappeared with its trademark rumbling dissent. Divide and Conquer, Caleb told himself bleakly, as he accepted the Pastors help in getting up.

"Stupid move to try the mystery salad at a truck stop huh?" he quipped weakly at the Pastor.

"Perhaps not your most reasoned move – still maybe if you are adamant on not seeking medical advice, you should probably rest tomorrow, I will tell John that…"

"No – no need Pastor Jim, I just need to get some rest" Caleb interjected quickly hoping he wasn't making a liar out of himself on the rest front. "Me and the worst of anything I ate parted company back there" he gestured with his thumb in the direction of the bathroom they had just exited.

"Why don't we see the lay of the land in the morning Caleb?" Jim appeased gently, he was very familiar with the teen's deep seated fear of hospitals based on his troubled early years.

Jim would not put Caleb through those fears for anything – but this reaction, or whatever it was, had been far from mild. Jim had been on the verge of instructing Robert to dial 911. There was something very off with the usually cocky, irreverent teen, something about the hunched set of his shoulders and the guarded look around his eyes that seemed to be warning Jim that they had not reached the Harbour yet. He would be grateful when Mackland got here tomorrow afternoon.

Caleb watched silently as a gambit of emotions chased across the Guardian's face. Chief amongst them was a worried uncertainty that seemed directed at him. His heart sank – he had tried his utmost to assure those around him that he was worthy of the trust they put in him. Jim knew he was lying at some level – maybe the Pastor was rethinking his decisions to take Caleb into the fold? Jim knew as well as Caleb – probably more clearly than Caleb … what a putrid well the Reaves line drew from. Now it appeared that Caleb's cursed Demon tainted blood had a will of its own and was intent on reliving the glory days … the alternative was just too fucking horrible to contemplate!

"Noah started out hearing voices and seeing visions too you know?! That ended with him torching everyone who ever trusted him." a young unfamiliar voice sounded loudly in his head.

"Caleb!" Jim cried in alarm as the young man missed a step completely and would have gone down hard if Bobby hadn't returned and been offering the uncomprehending youth his glass of water at just that point.

Singer let the glass slip grabbing the boys other arm to hold him up with a string of loosed curses that Jim was too worried to chastise him for.

"Whoa ..." Caleb slurred a little, his brain numb with shock. "Little dizzy…"

"Help me move him to the bed." Jim instructed.

Caleb felt himself being half helped, half hauled into bed. The covers were pulled up under his chin. His entire body was numb – as if hearing voices wasn't Shinning enough … it had to be the voice of authority on his murdering bastard of a Grandfather?!!! Maybe he really had eaten something bad – trust his screwed up mind to dredge this particular hallucination up!

"Caleb?" Jim called staring intently at the grey faced youth in the bed. "Are you in pain?"

Hospital alarm bells went off again in Reaves' head, bringing with them a wave of panic that snapped him out of his shock. Need to get your head in the game here Caleb, he told himself fiercely.

"Maybe … something to settle my stomach?" Caleb requested quietly "I don't think I've thrown up this much since Becky Lindfeldts sixteenth birthday when she kissed me better behind the…"

"Caleb!" Jim attempted his usual feigned outrage, but the doubts swarmed him. Still the boy's colour was returning slowly. "Maybe Robert could keep you company while I fetch you something?" Jim asked standing and not waiting for either man's approval.

As Jim stepped out the door he was slightly bolstered by the conversation he was leaving and pretending not to hear.

"You goanna read my bedtime story too Aunty Roberta?" Caleb teased.

"Kid – if you're not careful I'll wind you and change your Godamn diapers!!!" the older voice growled.

Bobby turned towards the door ensuring Jim had reached the bottom of the stairs before turning back to the boy in the bed, all traces of humour gone.

"What's going on with you Junior – your Freaky powers acting up or something?"

Caleb's face was bleak as he sat up sharply. "I am not a Freak Bobby" he snarled dangerously.

"Whoa there pup!" Bobby soothed, laying his hands lightly on Reaves' chest and pushing him down gently. "I didn't mean you kid – who are you trying to convince here at any rate?"

"Fuck you Bobby!" the younger man glowered. "Get your hands off me – if you got something to say– just come out with it!"

Bobby stayed quiet looking at Caleb like he was a car that needed fixing, before withdrawing his hands and conceding in a neutral voice. "Didn't mean anything by it boy – just worried is all."

Caleb felt a flash of guilt and would have apologised if Jim hadn't re-entered the room. He resolved to stay quiet for the remainder of the conversation. It was decided that they'd wait till the morning and see how Caleb felt then. Caleb knew that he would do everything in his power to be more than fine – dream or no dream, he wasn't Noah Seaver! He was a member of the Brotherhood – this was his destiny… not… playing the Bitch for some Demon!

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John Winchester was worse than a Rooster at daybreak – at least the damn bird only woke you up! John dropkicked your ass out of bed and then proceeded to kick you round a Marine style obstacle course and a five mile run to wash that down with. To say he was a Sadist, in Caleb's opinion was to give all the "lonely ones" a BAD name!!! Sergeant Shoeshine made him re-do the first quarter mile of the course, because he hadn't tucked his boots in, or some such crap! As he breathed hard through his nose on the last stretch Caleb relented a little – he may have given Corporal Winchester the tiniest amount of lip to deserve the Full Metal Jacket treatment. But actually Winchester's in your face manner was more than helpful in motivating Caleb to complete the course this morning. Although the memories of his nightmare of many colours, was still vivid and way too disturbing to look at right now, the unexpected sickness was a distant memory. Caleb had noticed Jim at the Kitchen window, unobtrusively observing him and Dean shoulder their full packs and set out. He grit his teeth into a determined smile as he powered home, pushing his own limits to the finish line where his tutor waited with a stop watch.

John grinned broadly as Caleb seemed to steam home – Jim and Bobby were such Mother hens!! The kid thrived with this type of training – not that he'd let Junior's head swell too much! There was no sign that Caleb wasn't a hundred percent fit to be sent on a hunt right this minute. John watched as Dean made a respectable last place across the finish line - all in all a good exercise. John made his mind up to go tell the Pastor and Bobby to stop mollycoddling the boy – he had Mackland for that! Maybe they'd even push the boat out after breakfast on some sparing.

Dean heard his Dad's voice sound through the thumping of his heart in his ears. As John walked away he ordered them to settle up and then come in for breakfast … he was equally sure a threat was made against the last of Jim's homemade sausages, if he and Caleb didn't shag ass. Thoughts of his best friend drew his eye to him. Dean watched the eighteen year old catch his breath doubled over in the same manner as he was, but something was out of whack. He had heard Damien's cries last night; he'd even gone in to check on him via the door that linked their rooms. Caleb had been having a fitful sleep and Dean had covered him with the blanket that he had discarded. But as the cries grew more pointed, he started to worry, fearing the Psychic was having one of those dreams – the movies in his head, as Dean called them; and was secretly grateful he'd never get dared to watch a screening. But then he'd heard the rest of the night's commotion – even the argument with Bobby – which was just plain strange for Damien. At eight years old Dean had seen way to much – but how to talk to his friend about actual feelings, and fears and girlie junk … it just petrified him enough to send him running to buy popcorn to go with one of Damien's damn Mind Movies!!!

"You been watching Blue Lagoon again Deuce? I told you I'd explain that part - first chance I get." Caleb grinned broadly looking for the entire world like his annoying self. The entire world; that wasn't Dean.

"Screw yourself Damian – like you know how to work the VCR?" Dean smiled at the other boy.

Caleb ruffled his hair as he gestured for Dean to pick up some lighter items John had discarded, while he stooped to pick up Dean's pack as well as his own.

"I got it Damien …" Dean moved quickly to snatch up his own pack, recalling the horrid retching sounds he knew must have been Caleb last night. His friend's stubborn ass side – never failed to impress Dean.

Caleb's frown was searching " What's with you – you never pass the chance to ditch the bags, in fact I know that you have already worked out the exact date Sam will be eligible to carry the gear as youngest hunter in training!"

"May 12th 1990 – what's your point el burro?" Dean asked evenly, knowing that he had been rumbled. As well as he knew Caleb – even without the magic mind reading Mojo – the young hunter knew him inside out too.

He felt the older boys hand lightly on his shoulder. It halted him as surely as if Reaves had blocked his path – they were both adverse to others in their personnel space; Caleb was not joking.

Dean turned with a sigh and looked the other boy in the eye. "I heard you last night Damian… you were…you were really out of it." Dean confessed almost apologetically.

Caleb's look darkened in a way Dean had not ever witnessed directed at him before, but all the Psychic volunteered was; "I see."

Reaves turned on his heel before going back for John's stuff leaving Dean, alone and more than a little stunned.

As Caleb stormed away from Dean all that ran through his head was a boiling uncalled for anger and the voice from last night – which more than scared the shit out of him.

They begin to see through you – even your precious Deuce is weary of you – they can tell one of the pack from a Rabid half-breed in desperate need of being put down… did you know that? I hope for his sake that boy is a bright one – look what happened to me when your Granddaddy turned…look what happened to your unborn sibling when your Daddy …"

Caleb breathed in – concentrating hard trying to push away the onslaught of the small thin voice with the musical Southern accent. His eyes were shut tightly beads of moisture had begun to spring up on his upper lip. As he fought for control of his own thoughts – he lost all sense of his surroundings. He had to make it stop – he had to … get control. He could not loose himself to this – whatever it was!

Dean watched Caleb's back as the muscles bunched in agitation. Fearful for the first time that he had said something completely out of line, and Damien was actually ticked with him. But for the life of him, Dean couldn't figure out what? It took him another two heartbeats to make his mind up against leaving the Psychic to his deep, meaningful brooding, crap; and demand that the Princess tell him exactly what was going on in that strange head of his. He stormed back towards the Psychic; he didn't need Damien's Super Powers to know the asshole needed help!