Chapter Three
"Easy to find what's wrong, Harder to find what's right." Dance with the Devil. Breaking Benjamin.
There are moments in all our lives that shock us, that are committed to memory simply because we can not comprehend how we could let them happen. Caleb Reaves had no idea how the horror movie his mind had recently slipped into, became confused with Dean Winchester's jaw! He recalled the soft voice preceding his mini aneurism – the one that caused him to lay out his best friend. It had described his worst imaginings – his most secret nightmares – the ones he spared Mac. The recurring dark thoughts he fell prey to round the Anniversary of his parents death, were usually purged with exercise at the Winchester Academy of split knuckles when he looked young enough to get carded, and later when he found the doors swung wide open to his overconfidence; he soused them with alcohol. Why they sought him out here – in the middle of a hot Minnesota weekend at the wrong end of the Calendar, he couldn't guess. He was still trying to figure out the last burning question on his mind – how could he have lashed out at Dean like that?
The kid was doubled over and hung like a scarecrow that had been all but blown off its perch. Caleb found himself blinking rapidly – what the fuck was happening here? He reached forward on instinct to comfort Deuce – as if his sole role here was protector and not guilty perpetrator.
"Deuce, I'm so sorry man … I wasn't paying…. You ok?" he fumbled the words in a breathy tone, his voice pleading for the kid to look up.
Dean did not comply immediately. But as the effects of sparing with Caleb, without the aid of pads, or a heads up, wore off, he shrugged off his companion.
"Get offa me Damien … I'm not a friggin damsel in distress!" Dean grunted, his fat lip actually giving his voice a rolling lilt.
Caleb balked when he saw the young boys face – Deuce had, had worse in his short life, but never at Reaves' hand. Not in all their years training together, had Caleb ever given Deuce so much as a hangnail – and now? He let the younger youth shove him roughly away and tried to hide his shock by rolling into smartass – and for them normal, as quickly as he could.
"Hold on now Deuce. You are the biggest example of girlie out here… and I do tend to save your ass a lot. That's Damsel material right there … plus you are totally a strawberry blonde, Aurora!"
Deuce was not biting. He regarded Caleb with a weary look that had never appeared in his jade eyes before. It made Caleb swallow a lump in his throat. How could he have let that happen – what the fuck was wrong with him?!
"What the hell is up with your psychic what-not Damien?" Dean's voice was hurt and full of accusation. "You can usually point to my seat in a Super bowl Stadium, but you clock me because your distracted and thought I was … what…. a Ninja assassin?!!!"
Caleb wanted to laugh in desperation – Deuce was right, he had no explanation… no excuse. He had not realized that he had voiced his harsh bark of dark mirth. The kid was looking at him like he was losing it – but in the same instance had put a concerned hand on Caleb's forearm. He looked into Deuce's eyes and became very uncomfortable all at once – too much contact, too much concern lay out in the open between them. Reaves broke contact as gently as he could, knowing he owed the kid so much more, taking both hands and running them through his slightly damp hair, he sighed.
"What can I say Deuce – I must be more tired than I thought." He looked at him keenly. "I am sorry man – I would never…"
As always Deuce put the needs of others first, coming to the teens rescue.
"Jesus Damien – just don't do it again… there's no need to ask me to Prom!" Dean snarked with a smile that said – now who needs the rescue?
"Ass!" Caleb returned gratefully.
It was far from alright – but Dean was offering the olive branch, and Caleb found it hard to deny Winchester most things. Howls of laughter from the farmhouse broke their awkward silence. Within seconds Sam had barreled into the back screen and screamed in his four year old squeak of enthusiasm.
"Mac's here early!"
Dean winced at the noise and Caleb grinned despite himself. He could see why the youngest Winchester did so much to motivate Deuce's 'suck it up' attitude – it was hard to brood round a four ear old on a constant high.
"Let's get in there Damian, before your Dad claims alms or something, and finishes our share of the sausages!"
Caleb smiled genuinely at the thought of his slightly uptight, socially flawless, adoptive Father, pigging out on Jim's prize sausages flickered into his imagination.
"Please - the day Dad reaches for seconds – I will be throwing the Holy water at him! Ames men don't behave that way!" Caleb affected his best pseudo English country Gent accent.
"Lucky for you, you're not from that well sanded branch of the family tree, Lucifer." Dean quipped.
Caleb smiled tightly stooping to pick up his dropped bag and hand Dean his. Family was a raw subject right now – he'd just as soon forget.
Dean followed Damien in. He was certain now that something was up. Caleb was damn near impossible to get the drop on. Last month when Missouri had almost caught Caleb and Amanda Husker skinny dipping in Jim's lake, the older youth had escaped and evaded detection by milliseconds. He had hauled ass like the wind and had heard the elder psychic, even though he had been more than slightly distracted. Winchester watched the other youth enter the kitchen, trade a few smart remarks with Sammy and then embrace his Father warmly.
"Ace?" his Father's voice broke in to his musing. "What happened to your face?"
Caleb immediately began to own up; Dean had to jump in quickly to stop the idiot from self confessing himself into further training – heightened awareness or whatever, in the afternoon. Dean had been hoping to cut loose and head into town.
"My fault Dad" Dean talked over the other boy. "I didn't hear Caleb tell me to watch out when he was picking up our stuff."
John released his son's chin with a nod of acceptance and only a slightly frustrated frown but all he said was. "Need to keep your head together Dean – this isn't a game."
"Johnny that's …."
Caleb's tone was distinctly offering his denial of Dean's lie, but John misunderstood.
"Easy there Nanny Reaves – I know you had a hand in it, but Ace and you both know this is not finishing school you're passing through – I can't keep worrying that I have anything less than the best out on that hunt with me."
Caleb cursed his hardheaded mentor silently as he watched Deuce blush with embarrassment. However the kid still threw him a pleading look to keep his mouth shut. And Reaves found himself complying as Jim joined the table last – bringing the syrup with him in Miss Emma's delicate china server.
"Jonathan – I think we can put the training to one side for now – family get together's are precious gifts. I can't remember the last time we were all here without agenda or pressing situation on horizon." The Pastor enthused.
Caleb smiled as the banter began between John and Bobby about their respective agenda's came up. This was normality for him – it helped his raw nerves settle a little, to bathe in the atmosphere here – Jim's house had been a heaven for all of them at one time or another. He cut a glance at Deuce and found the young boy too slow to drop his surveillance. The kid who toughed out most of life's hardships with a quirky smile or a middle finger gesture, blushed bright crimson as he realized he was caught out. Caleb held his gaze with a questioning look, wondering if his loss of concentration had done more harm than he realized.
"All work and no play; makes Caleb a thoughtless shit!" he grunted softly.
He felt like a twelve year old punk once again – how dare he let John's false absolution stand! He'd hurt Deuce and he knew it – the selfless idiot had still thrown himself on his own sword to save Caleb.
"Did you say something son?" Mackland queried in hushed tone trying not to distract the Knight's continued verbal sparing.
"Just setting out my To Do list Dad." Caleb murmured back.
Though his answer perplexed Ames, he carried on broaching the subject that had more to do with his main role in life – parenting the bright but defensive young man sitting next to him.
"I wondered if I could take some of your time after breakfast – John assures me it won't cut into any training plans?"
"I wanted to spend a little time with Deuce and Sam before Johnny breaks camp, and sets off again." Caleb supplied quickly.
"Oh didn't I mention – the Winchesters are coming out to stay with us – John has a prior engagement near us and the boys can keep you out of trouble for a few weeks, I didn't think you'd mind." Mackland continued keeping half his attention on the rest of the table.
"So you won't go nuts when you find me out of the frying pan then Dad – cause you know from experience where the play dates you set up for me and the Winchesters end – right?!"
Mackland was a little taken aback and looked at his son a little more closely. The need for a shower after heavy training should have accounted for the slight flush but the dark smudges under the eyes gave a different alternative.
"Rough night Caleb?" Mac asked pointedly, though that was all he said.
His son was on edge. He was not slow, and would probably have guessed that Mackland wanted to discuss the subject of Saint Martin's School – the latest in a line of high profile schools Caleb had been evicted from; except in this case his son had almost racked up enough credits to graduate and Ames had talked the Principal into a FINAL- final chance! Caleb was not normally out rightly hostile to him or unwilling to be in the company of the Winchester boys. In fact Mac was fully aware of the high esteem Caleb held Dean in – his son had gifted the boy with a nickname that was precious in Reaves' eyes. Though the Dr was certain that Dean didn't know the full extent of love and loyalty that went with the title – Deuce. Jim's revelations about Caleb's episode last night had Mac on edge too – but he had assured the Pastor that he would play things based on the evidence of the day, as Jim had promised the boy. So far all Mackland had noticed was the aftereffects of a rigorous training regime and the mood from hell that probably came with lack of sleep.
Caleb threw an irritated glance at his Father – of course he knew about the previous night, of course he wanted to talk about the Goddamned finishing school for assholes!!!! He ate his breakfast quietly, answering when spoken to and willing Mac to do the same. As the meal seemed to be all but over – as usual this was signaled by Sam trying to chug his milk in his haste to get outside to play, Caleb whispered to Ames.
"Why don't we get this over with Mac?" he asked quietly his voice sounding oddly tired and defensive at the same time, he threw his napkin at the table and asked Jim to excuse him.
As his son stood up Mackland had no choice but to follow suit and thanked James for another breakfast feast. They stepped into Jim's study – the first room that had a door.
Mac had just taken his second breath when Caleb went on the offensive.
"What do you want to talk about Dad – my dumb choice of lunch yesterday or your dumb choice of Fancy Fairy School?!"
Mackland kept his composure, though he fought hard to banish the impish thought of spanking the eighteen year old from his head.
"Pastor Jim did the only responsible thing he could do – he did tell me of his promise to you about not seeking medical aid unless it was necessary. Not a bargain I would have struck young man!" Macklands whole manner changed with concern "Are you sure your alright son?"
Caleb's anger seemed to deflate in the face of his adoptive Father's genuine concern and affection.
"I'm fine Dad – no spewing today." The boy assured his father resignedly "Are you really going to set Sam and Deuce on me to make sure I don't play hookie in my last two weeks in hell… uh High School?"
Mackland raised a hand to the side of his boys face and to his amazement Caleb allowed him to hold the soft gesture for more than the microsecond he had anticipated.
"I want only the best for you Caleb; I know that some of these institutions can be quite insular…"
"Try inbred!" the teen mumbled sourly.
Mac went on pretending not to hear. "But you have to see that none of your other goals in life can take place until you surmount this challenge and f…"
"Face my Demons?" Caleb asked in a low biting tone, dropping his Father's gaze.
Mackland gently tilted his sons face upwards, slightly alarmed at the undercurrent of pain that he had picked up at that point. "What is it Caleb? Has something happened?"
There was nothing the boy wanted more than to gush the truth and pour his heart out like a guest on Oprah's couch.
Well Dad it seems that my Demon side is surfacing and giving me tips on the Ten Step Programme to Annihilate Everyone Around You, I'm doing my best ever impression of Jack Nicholson … without really trying (voices and all!), my new imaginary friend thinks I need putting down like a rabid dog, and my best friend thinks a little less of me today- after I realigned his jaw!!!!! And I am kinda beginning to freak out here – so you can see how playing nice with the Barbie and Ken brigade and graduation gowns are not topping my list!
What he managed was. "I am just different from them Dad – they won't ever be able to feel comfortable round a freak."
"Don't use that word – you know it's not true Caleb." Ames asserted strongly.
"Yeah? Well that doesn't really stop them or Mr. Jennings from believing it- does it Dad?" Caleb asked trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I don't mind Sam and Deuce being with us – I'd prefer that to what ever roach motel Johnny had lined up … but I don't want your mini narks running to you every time I am not whistling Dixie when I get in from school ok? I'll finish my way."
His Father smiled patting Reaves on the back. "That's all I am asking of you son. Just leave the building standing though – donating a library is one thing – but building reconstruction … my Accountant will have a fit!!!"
"Are you trying to tell me you drank my inheritance already?" Caleb deadpanned.
As they exited the study Caleb felt a little lighter on his feet – he would make it up to Deuce this afternoon and then he'd get to hang out with them for an extended break. Maybe he could weather Saint Martin's – it was only two weeks right?
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The remains of the desolated building still hinted at the cause of its demise. In the gaps between the ivy and the creeping Morning Glory's, the twisted remnants of the wrought iron section of a stained glass window poked through, the walls were mottled, but brown and black played a prominent part of the color pallet. The field around it still remained green and lush as if the nearby community, which had sprawled over the decades, thought the ground cursed and refused to build there. Verity chuckled at a comment only she could hear from one of her elemental companions who were in whole hearted agreement with the good towns folk.
She could see the jagged aura of the church as they approached, the sheep were right not to graze here: the land was cursed. Real evil had been loosed here – Seaver had never stood a chance against that kind of raw power. What would convince the rank amateur otherwise; she wondered idly as she entered the skeleton of the building and tried to pick out the precise energy she was looking for. As she moved around she passed through their screams and cries – she knew they could not touch her mind, her defenses were more than formidable and her demonic entourage would take care of the rest, but she paused here and there to listen to their agonized cries searching for the ones she sought.
"What do you mean cocky?" she snapped glancing upwards at thin air and flicking her hair imperiously. "Are you going to do your job and keep a watch out while I find the brat's remains or not?"
Her head tilted to the side acknowledging the response.
"Any posing parlor magician can project the thoughts of a willing spirit into the head of an unsuspecting dupe; it's beneath my abilities and not enough to compromise his defenses. Reaves is more formidable than that ass Porter gives him credit for, pity he will be leaving us so young – it might have been interesting to see what he would mature into. But nothing beats the personal touch …. Ahah – there you are Ms Dupree."
Stooping the slender woman in green picked up the charred earth in a small glass vial, taking pains not to let it contact her bare skin.
"Now one or two more spots and we are done…. What about all those sheep, they bleed don't they?" Verity asked trying her best to ignore the incessant entity. "You are so melodramatic - all that cloak and dagger, stolen under the midnight moon business, was my Mother… not me!"
Having set matters to rights LeHarve continued her preparations. Planning as with everything in life and the Afterlife was everything. Once she had the specimens she came for, all was set; she had even spied the perfect derelict building to carry out the parts of her incantation that called for the deeper concentration and the pyrotechnic magic's. She had a feeling that Porter was not a patient man though he affected the air of high brow manners – seeing souls stripped to their essence, had long ago revealed the divergence between the masks men chose to wear, and what lay coiled in their hearts. Not that it was her business how this Brotherhood took care of its affairs. She had a task to perform, and as always she would succeed with the deadly efficiency her family had become famed for.
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The two boys waved off the black jeep that carried John Winchester and a very sulky Sam to stock up on supplies for the Farm. Sam had wanted to accompany them but John had insisted on keeping the dentist appointment that Pastor Jim had pulled favors to get him. He had only been pacified by the promise of both elder boys, that no-one was going near the desert menu till he got back.
"Maybe we should have gone with him… I'm really not that hungry." Dean wondered aloud, chewing on his bottom lip.
"Earth to Mother Hen – the chick is with the Rooster! Quit worrying, what could happen to Sammy with Corporal Punishment at his back? That Dentist had better have paid Damn close attention in Cavity class!!! Besides, if we go with your Dad he'll rope us into some "strength training" – or as we like to call it …"
"Ponying the bags!" Dean smiled slowly "What's with all the farmyard metaphors Damien – you trying to sway my vote to the fried chicken?!"
As he held the door open for the two pretty blondes exiting Blue Earth's second dinner, Caleb's head angled innocently as he checked out the two retreating, mini skirts. When one of the girls turned and threw him a coy smile he grinned broadly at her.
"Oh don't kid yourself Lucifer – she was checking out the dishier alternative right next to you." Dean retorted.
Glancing behind him Caleb pointed a finger at the menu stuck to the door and smirked. Dean offered his friend a different finger, in reply.
"Envy is one of the deadly sins Deuce … I am the hottest dish in this joint. So you can continue your unholy obsession with pasta – I don't want this whole trip to be a disappointment for you." Caleb allowed generously.
"Your right – maybe your girlfriend won't mind her first born having the horns and the tail?"
They laughed and joked their way through an agreed first course of dough balls. Caleb won the "how many at once?" contest. Dean almost choked laughing at the face of concentration the young psychic pulled when cramming the last garlic laced piece past his overloaded lips … just as one of the two blondes from earlier re-entered the dinner.
"I think you may have won the battle, but lost the victory parade afterwards, there Damien" Dean gasped out between hales of laughter.
The girl took one look at Reaves engorged mouth and turned on her heel to leave.
"It would never have worked out anyway" Caleb shrugged "I like my women to like me for who I am, to see past my devilish good looks and natural charm and brilliance…" The teen frowned slightly.
"And wads of cash?" Dean asked sweetly "Cause I hear that's the best weapon in your Arsenal … you ok Damien?"
The banter subsided in the younger boys face.
"Yeah – I am paying for my victory a little." He patted his stomach gingerly.
"We need to go?" Dean asked making as if to call for the bill.
"No Deuce, I'm good." Caleb threw him a quick glance. "Besides I wanted to talk to you about earlier."
Dean's manner seemed to alter in front of him and that guarded look returned to his eyes. Caleb hated it almost as much as he hated himself for putting it there. But when his friend didn't speak he carried on trying to hold the other boys gaze for as long as he could, overly aware that this was steering terribly close to Chick Flick territory.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am Deuce – I should have had better control, it never should have fucking happened. But you don't need to cover for me with John, I am the older one, I screwed up not you… I should take what comes of that, and would in a heartbeat take the worst your Dad could dish out – cause I … hurt you. It will never happen again."
A slight pressure on his wrist brought his eyes back to Dean's face; he didn't recall dropping his gaze.
"I know Damian – but he would have killed you for dropping the ball, and it seems to me you have enough on your mind right now." Dean's voice was earnest and Caleb marveled how much his friend could read people without the aid of psychic abilities.
"I would have deserved it Deuce. And I'd go out there and take worse, if I could take it back… but you have to believe me man, I will never let anything happen to you while I am around."
Dean looked at the young psychic in front of him; there was fierceness about his face that contrasted sharply with the desperation in his liquid Amber eyes. Caleb felt that by striking out at one of his family, he had sinned – he was asking Dean's forgiveness. It was too close to the line his Father had crossed when he had murdered his Mother and then killed himself in front of a six year old Caleb. That one event drove the majority of the heights and depths of Caleb's psyche – it was the fire that fueled his deep seated need to be one of the good guys, and his gut churning fear that he was fated to become evil; like all the men in his family. The ferocity of the blow, and the utter shock that Caleb had thrown it, had Dean reeling at the time, his defenses sprang up instinctively and he had withdrawn. The younger boy would bet his best Rookie Card, that as much as it hurt like a bitch at the time, it was still a twisting pain in the older boy's heart. At the end of the day, allowing Caleb to hang on to that guilt; crossed Dean's line.
"Damian – I am only going to say this one more time – it's a done thing, it's history !I know you slipped up man and I know how far you have gone to keep Sammy and I safe – I remember History pretty well – despite my grades." The youngster gave Caleb an unrepentant grin. "I still believe that you are ugly as sin …"
Caleb laughed shortly despite the slight moisture in his eyes.
"But I also believe … you have always been there – you are the first to stand up when we need you, and the last to back down. I believe in you Damian … and you have never made me regret that … you start pushing any meatballs across my plate with you nose … and I take it all back Reava!" Dean quipped, trying to steer them both away from Emo town, as it appeared his friend was finding the destination hard work.
Caleb barked out a genuine laugh despite the obvious discomfort Dean's uncharacteristic openness had caused him. "You just wish Deana!" was all he could summon in a gruff, cracking voice.
The rest of their lunch was just the way he liked it – uneventful. Caleb slowly began to banish his fears one by one – setting them down in the hole he had created for all the painful and unwanted memories and emotions over the years. He buried these fears deeply – fully aware they were there, but as with all the others, ignoring their existence anyway. He began looking forward to his unexpected time with Deuce and Sammy, what better tonic for self important teenage socialites was there than irreverent pre-teens and brutally honest kindergarteners after all? He'd grit out his time at Saint Martin's, and then as Mac said – he was free to pursue his Brotherhood path. When Sammy turned up with a good deal of smugness at having passed yet another examination (albeit a dental one!) and sage advice about brushing; now that he was the qualified one, they enjoyed their ice creams. Even John joined in with a rare tale from his childhood about how he'd once hidden in a tree to avoid his Dad taking him to the dentist.
They were in high spirits when they were leaving. Dean taking the lead – possibly to escape the little Einstein's ongoing lecture about cavity's. His plan backfired however as John dragged his heels just enough to divert Sammy's flow of conversation towards his brother.
"Parenting from a distance Johnny?" Caleb asked with a knowing smile.
"Hey, I did my time on the car ride back here." John protested with a smile. "Besides, I'll let Sam soften his brother up for me – fewer arguments when I let Dean know that it's his turn next!"
"Oh yeah – cause it's Deuce that's going to be trouble… please, Bobby and I already have a twenty on what age Sammy's going to get his first tat!!!"
Caleb's eye roll halted suddenly as he caught sight of a young girl in the booth in the far corner nearest the door he was following John to. She was around twelve and wore a striking Violet dress; unique due to its outdated turn of the century styling. Caleb found himself riveted to the actions of the child, wondering dimly why no one else found her attire out of place. Her presence screamed ghost to him, there was wave after wave of deadly malevolence coming from her, that was breath stealing – why had John not clocked her? His mentor gave him a lopsided grin as he reached back through the doorway and pulled him through with a tug. Obviously under the impression his protégée was working up to a punch line John gave him a friendly, though enthusiastic pat on the back.
"I don't care if he blackmails you and Dean into doing the dance of the Tooth Fairy – I am not ridding back alone with the song from the Colgate advert on a loop! So get your butt in gear private – no stalling." John's tone was friendly and mock conspiratorial, his eyes on his youngest and hence missing the look of horror on the young psychic at his side.
Caleb let himself be drawn away by the Knight, feeling a little like the Damsel he had teased Dean with earlier that day. It was her – Cecile Dupree; he could hear her thoughts roll his way with the sound and the fury of the Titanic hitting the Iceberg, it made him wince and took all his self control not to move closer towards John. As if the girl heard his trembling knees through the dinner glass window, she looked up a feral self satisfied look on her face; she caught his stunned gaze when he passed the spot she sat in. Her blonde hair and translucent ivory skin, gave no hint at the horrific fire she had perished in, but her oddly heated grey blue eyes seemed to have absorbed some of it. A shiver rocked him then. It was strong enough to cause Winchester to glance back over his shoulder, Caleb managed to drop his gaze and examine the pavement at just the right second. Normal was out of the question it seemed – or maybe hellish nightmares coming to life in broad daylight, was normal … for devils?