Chapter Six

"I'm a believer, nothing could be worse. All these imaginary friends.

Hiding betrayal, driving the nail." Evil Angel- Breaking Benjamin.

Hospital protocol from a patient's perspective was anything but merciful! It completely skipped out the "humane" section of the rule book. Between being stuck like Aunt Bea's favorite pin cushion, by incompetent nurses (who were not even all that into him?!), and having the fact that his ass was hanging out of the pre-emptive, puke colored, backless gown, by a male orderly (who seemed a little too into him…?!) – Caleb was not amused!

Of course this had absolutely nothing to do with the crawling feeling of discomfort and barely reigned in panic that hospitals brought out in him. No that was just the tip of the Emo Iceberg that was threatening to sink him altogether.

He could feel the bundle of raw nerves that was passing itself off as Mackland Ames, currently pacing behind him. Pulling his black Tee over his shoulders and then slipping his head into the neck hole, the young man marveled at how people's very best efforts to "give you some space" actually produced the opposite effect. Of course that was his own guilt talking. He had barked something like that at his Father when he'd damn near hyperventilated, before being stuffed into an MRI machine the size of a bread box! The head restraints had not helped; but he had no excuse. Shit scared or not – no-one spoke to Mac like that… including himself.

This had been hard on Mac too. Following every relevant seizure related test known to medicine – some run twice because Ames hadn't been overseeing the procedure from the start- they were awaiting the speediest results in the facility's history. Caleb believed he had even heard his Father threaten someone's residency, in favor of the nearest zoo primate at one point. It would have been hilarious under different circumstances, but right now it seemed to fall flat. Right now, Reaves could feel a different form of examination coming. His Dad was unable to reconcile his paternal instincts with his clinical detachment, and he was, to give it a technical diagnosis – Freaking the Hell Out!

Caleb was on the same page as his Father. Feeling out of control in anyway petrified him – and that didn't even cover the acid trip hallucination afterwards. The Psychic had apparently (given that he'd managed to exit stage left of his own volition, before being discovered) used the Force to escape! There was a whole list of things wrong with that picture!! He ran through the long list of disturbing elements in his post seizure head trip; the older second player, who seemed to view Cecile as her bitch; the two or more invisible, evil guard dogs; whatever mojo was being conjured could not have been the puppies and lollipops kind and was it happening right now in the present time?

Or at all freak?! A small traitorous part of his mind jeered at him. It's not exactly like you have been Captain of the Sane squad lately!

The Psychic frowned heavily, the last thing he needed right now was some mild touch of Bitchy Bi-polar screwing with him – his abilities were tied to his emotions and he needed a clear mind to puzzle through all the recent weirdness in his life.

Some part of him knew Cecile was no figment of his imagination. She was an entity in her own right – he'd read her in the dinner, he'd damn near choked on her murderous thoughts at the farm … she was for real, but what was she? No run of the mill spirit could change locations like that – some very powerful force was behind her, and whoever or whatever they were – they didn't seem to like him much!

He had been milling over how to broach the subject with any of the Senior hunters. John was out, as the Jarhead ran on facts and the esp. side of the Supernatural made him nervous. Bobby's mind was a chink wider, but he and John were busy lining up their next hunt. Singer was in no way the sole of discretion – Caleb would have Johnny on his ass in a matter of minutes. Jim would feel the need to involve Mac and that was never going to happen. His Dad was taxed to the limit already; he cast a guilty look at the man now silently studying him from the other half of the room.

"It's at times like this that I wish my talents were as independent as yours," Mac started softly with a rueful smile.

"Not something I would wish on you Dad," Caleb returned with a small smile.

"Well it may have better equipped me to watch over you." The Doctor held his eye firmly. "I wouldn't have needed to put you through today."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Caleb lifted his chin returning his Father's gaze steadily.

"I'm a big boy, Mac – the visions take it out of you sometimes…"

"You're my boy, Caleb, and I am never going to stop wanting to make your trials as few as possible … was this a vision? Did you see something we should be looking into, you didn't say exactly…"

"You didn't give me the chance exactly," Caleb returned in a slightly snappish tone but seemed to relent almost immediately. "I don't know exactly what it was…" he trailed off reluctant to lie outright to his Father.

They were interrupted by a timid knock, and a white coated technician, who wanted nothing more than to deliver his papers and be gone. Mac thanked the nervous young man congenially – but this only seemed to cause more agitation. Apparently newly established hard-ass reputation preceded him. After a practically gibbered, see through excuse, the newcomer exited hastily.

"When it absolutely has to be there – on time!" Caleb snarked receiving a raised eyebrow from the elder man.

Ames continued to study the charts and reports held in the manila folder, whilst Reaves tried to find a distraction of any kind in the insipidly decorated room. As if on cue and yet entirely unannounced, a blonde head popped around the corner of the door, hand over eyes.

"You're decent right, Damien? 'Cause I don't think that our friendship would survive the rear end gown man!" the young boy quipped.

Despite himself, Reaves let out a snorted laugh. "You just wish, Deuce! Don't worry you won't see anything over the queue of eligible young nurses forming an orderly queue."

Dean stepped in to the room throwing an angelic smile at his best friend. "Now are there separate queues for the dudes, because this guy, Mark, who works the front desk would be very interested – you know how Jim likes us to help out those in need?"

Reaves let out a genuine laugh before answering sarcastically. "Bite me, short-ass."

"Gentleman," Mac began with mock sternness "Your concern for each other is touching – but I am trying to work here."

Caleb felt the connection he shared with Dean cloud with worry immediately, the light-heartedness evaporated.

"What have you found, Mac?" the boy asked in a half voice.

Mackland glanced at his son seeking permission. Reaves barely inclined his head answering in a similarly subdued tone, "It's Deuce."

Dean felt his heart swell and clench simultaneously, Damien was a little paler than normal, and he'd overheard Bobby talking to his Dad about the teen's uncharacteristic clashes with his Father – Damien was scared. Dean knew his best friend's history with hospitals and without the aid of psychic superpowers he could read the cornered vibe in every inch of Caleb's body language.

Mackland cleared his throat and addressed his Son. "You had a Grand Mal seizure, from the details Pastor Jim gave. Your tests show a significant electrolyte imbalance, which may have triggered it – but equally your temporal lobe is experiencing some unusual activity according to your ECG. I need to do a little more checking…"

"Uh, Mac I'm still in the Fourth grade… electrolyte what?" Dean quizzed with a grave look well beyond his years.

Ames tried to moderate his answer so as not to scare the boy; his son firmly had his game face on and was giving away nothing.

"Well electrolyte's are minerals in your body that control the water balance, their imbalance can occur through excessive sweating and electrolyte imbalance is one of the most likely causes of seizure in this case, though the EEG temporal lobe scan also highlighted some unusual brain activity which is a more common cause of isolated seizure. Although we should not close our eyes to the possibility that…"

"This may not be isolated and my brain might actually short circuit on a regular basis," Caleb finished in a flat monotone.

Ames closed the gap between him and his son and tried to conceal his hurt when the boy flinched at his touch. "I sent your results to a close friend of mine, he's very well read in this field, and he concurs that the follow up indicators of a seizure disorder are not prominent."

Caleb was rigid under his touch – as if the boys crossed arms were holding him together. Mac reluctantly broke contact and mumbled something about seeking a few further details, before leaving the room.

Dean didn't move, he gave Damien the space he knew he needed. In his mind the older boy's midnight run sprang instantly to mind, coupled with the early morning Winchester training regime it seemed the most likely culprit for Caleb's episode. The young boy frowned as he forced down the urge to slap his best friend upside the head… and then run. No, on second thoughts he would stand and take what the blockhead dished out just so the asshole didn't literally run himself into the ground!

"That's never going to happen." The psychic dismissed with surety.

"What?" Dean demanded with an edge to his voice that gave away the thoughts Damien had so obviously been snooping in.

Golden eyes met his and the torn look in them made Dean want to rethink his harsh judgments and just help his friend dispel whatever Demon was gnawing at him.

"You were watching me last night weren't you?" the teen's voice held a hint of accusation.

"You were running like a Wendigo was on your ass, Damien – what's going on with you, man? If you don't trust me enough to tell me then talk to your Dad, dude – he's as straight up as they come and…"

"You are asking me to seek a hand holding session with my old man, Deuce? I have explained about his Enya collection right?" Caleb answered with a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Reaves had no intention of worrying Deuce further, it pissed him off a little that the kid had taken to shadowing him, but he had meant what he'd said in the dinner – he had his best friends back, even when he was being an annoyingly insightful midget Mother Hubbard!

Dean sighed, recalling his conversation with Pastor Jim where he had partly revealed his growing concern for his friend. When Damien had hit the ground Dean had moved past his frustration at his friend's characteristic stonewalling, and slid directly to deep seated dread. Now, hearing Mac's best guess at the cause of Reaves collapse, he couldn't help adding in the facts that he knew and wondering if it was in fact time to call on the Pastor for help?

"No – Deuce… I got it in hand man; there is no need to worry Jim." Caleb interjected quickly.

"Personal space means nothing to you does it, Damien?" Dean grated.

"Says the Super-spy." The teen challenged with an irritated tone. "Look kid – my business is my business…"

"Who the fuck are you calling KID, Lucifer?!" Dean threw back his voice climbing with anger. "As for your business – I 'm the one that covered for you when you took Dad's Jeep to hook up with that college Freshman last spring, I'm the one who cleared up Jim's special brew, after it had passed through your damn system following your pity party this New Year in the Barn and I'm…."

"Why bother, Deuce – if it's such a BIG fucking chore – who the hell asked you to? I can look out for myself! I'm your damn Nanny remember?! Look man, I know you are trying to look out for me, but I got it … I swear…Leave. It. Alone, Deuce."

There was a slight pained quality to the older boy's voice that trumped Dean's offensive. But he couldn't afford to let the idiot go on "taking it on the chin" -till his jaw broke! Damien's damn precious Hero's Code, was his greatest asset and the very thing Dean got the feeling he needed saving from right now.

"Fine Dickhead! I'll back-off, but all your snooping in my head, should have told you that there is no fucking way I am leaving you to it! You are in a fucking hospital, Damien – your Goddamned stubbornness will be the death of both of us!"

Caleb flinched slightly – the kid had inherited his Daddy's Guilt trip road map.

"Hunter's in training; never say die, Deuce." The psychic joked matter of factly, trying to salvage the situation.

"That's the Goonies, moron!" Dean grunted.

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Entering his own room after what seemed like a real long time, Caleb slung his backpack on the floor and face planted himself in the deep comfortable mattress. The journey had been pleasant – not really a huge accomplishment given his nightmarish past couple of days. He and Mac had ended up sharing the driving – Deuce still had flight issues. Bobby and Johnny had taken an early start on their hunt in Albany, leaving the Scholar in the most novel role of sole Adult on a road trip. With his face buried in the delicately fragranced bedding, Caleb broke into a huge grin at the thought of Mac's face when they'd cranked the volume to Highway to Hell… the first time.

He knew it wouldn't be long before the two boys finished unpacking and sought him out. Resting in the brief lull Caleb let his mind skim the slightly unpleasant issue of his return to St Martin's tomorrow. He took slight solace from the fact that Deuce would be around and Sammy in the Foundation building of the well established uptown New York school. His Father had waited till the Knight was out of earshot before telling the boys that they had been enrolled. John could be a little touchy on money matters, a fact that was sometimes infuriating when Caleb compared the run down motels he'd visited the boys in. But the hunt was guaranteed to last for at least another two weeks, given the lunar cycle, and in that time the final semester was drawing near enough to a close that, perhaps Ames thought his friend would concede and let his boys finish the year out.

Sammy was so psyched that Caleb prayed his Father was right about Johnny giving in. Most six year olds did not glue themselves to glossy Prep School brochures – but Reaves had always sensed that Sammy was special. Deuce had looked torn between his elation to be sticking around Caleb, his Father and their huge big screen, but troubled at the thought of going to a school were the Students socks were on auto-reorder from the latest Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. His fears were set aside when Mac casually threw in a question about Deuce's collar size whilst talking to one of his assistants – measurements for the uniforms he had already had on order. Deuce's face then scrunched up at the thought that 'collar measurements' might actually translate into 'School Tie'. Caleb had balled up laughing when that stray thought had floated across to him. He earned a well practiced elbow for his trouble – from his Dad!

In truth Caleb was bouncing as much as Sammy at the thought of having his extended family here. It was like a soothing balm for his overly taxed senses and frayed nerves. He even smoothed things out with Mac on the drive down. He'd set the physician's mind at ease by taking the replenishment fluids the attending Doctor had prescribed with zero resistance. He smiled to himself as he got up and abruptly came to a frozen halt when he came face to face with a searing pair of grey- blue eyes.

"Holy shit!" the psychic exclaimed drawing back slightly, only to find himself alone in the room.

His heart was racing, and his palms were slicked as he rolled off the bed and landed on the balls of his feet agiley. Grabbing for the front pocket of his backpack he retrieved a small plastic bottle containing rock salt and began to search his room. Losing himself in the task he could just about turn off the frenzied questions that sprang instantly to mind. They all came down to the same answer – he was being hunted by Cecile Dupree's spirit.

So you possess some intellect beyond your inbred need to destroy then?

Her voice was an unwelcome assault on his senses; it was like he was hearing her in technicolor.

"Why are you doing this, Cecile?" Caleb asked clearly, but in his normal voice – not wanting to announce his dementia to his Father.

May have judged the intellect too hastily then? Or, perhaps my agonizing death at the hands of your blood was just too delicate a hint?

Reaves shivered. "Don't tie me to that – I am nothing like him!"

Him… or them? You are fated to be as all the men in your cursed family- an evil, murderous killer. You know this – you witnessed it with your own eyes didn't you?

There was more than a hint of mocking in her tone and his pain and anger stung his eyes almost instantly.

"Shut your mouth about them… you don't know the first thing about them!"

I don't know the first thing, about what it's like? I have shared with you my last moments on earth- you lost your parents… I lost everything! Your cursed family have done nothing but bloody the waters - and you in your almighty arrogance think you will be different? Why so – isn't your blood as tainted as theirs- your so called family mean less to you than your pride, at least Isaac had the decency to bow out. You think you have known pain or suffering mongrel? I assure you the class is in session – I will not let you do to others what your wretched family has done in the past!

Caleb's protests bubbled uselessly in his throat as he dropped to his knees clutching both his ears. The scream of the seagull was torturously loud and the accompanying slam of the waves caused him to grit his teeth to keep his own pained cries in. He took several shallow breaths as his Mother's voice seemed to mingle, sharply piercing the bird's calls with both volume and misery. His eyes clenched tightly as his bowed forehead touched the floor, the aural assault effectively immobilizing him. And then it was gone. Cecile's whisper came wafting to him as if borne on one of the phantom waves.

Do the right thing for once – Seaver. Be the hero you pose as… One for all.