A/N; It has been WAY too long - thank you to Tara for sticking with this story and all the gentle nudging, when really sledge hammers tend to be more effective on my hard head! Thank you to Montez for asking so politely about where the rest of this story was - I felt bad about leaving this in the lurch, and actually put pen to paper that day. I do have a clearer idea where I'm headed now- it may take some weaving yet! Thanks for reading, and feel free to let me know what you think. Abi.
Sympathy for the Devil Ch 11.
"Johnny did you ever know, / That time keeps marching on? / The coldest hour is the one / Comes just before the dawn." – Johnny Cash, 'Devil went down to Georgia'.
Mac entered his study, leaned heavily on his desk and glared at the lit fireplace. Abstractly he wondered why his new housekeeper would need the concept of energy conservation explaining to her. Surely the fact that it was still July in New York and not Australia, had not missed her notice? Rubbing a hand over his face, he ceased his grouching. Mrs. Hennigan was not the problem here; he was the problem here.
"Did your superpowers advance Mac? Last time I checked you couldn't put out pointless fires with your laser vision?" John Winchester's voice held an attempt at humour.
Mack knew his friend was worried about him. It was John who had all but dragged Mackland away from the confrontation with the head nurse at the end of visiting hours. Ames had always found amicable ways round visiting hours, that woman was simply a harridan!
"You're not still obsessing over your girlfriend- no heat no fire…" the Knight drawled as he manually put out the fire, keeping his back to Ames, he sighed. "Ah shit Mack, you know I fucking suck at all this easing the pain crap! It's always your area. What did the kid say?"
The scholar felt a smile creep round his churning anxiety. That John would actually attempt to lighten the mood instead of following his usual Modus Operandi, bore testimony to their friendship.
"You got to give me something here Ames!" Winchester urged. "I'm not in the Young and the Gifted Psychic Club!"
"Sorry" the Doctor answered simply.
He felt drained. He'd seen his son in hospital whites far too much recently and every time he'd failed to protect him. He'd failed Caleb. Pulling himself together before John did it for him; he fleshed out the details of what Caleb had told him. The ghostly visitations, the mental tormenting, the visions and even the Sever connection. In the end he glanced up to meet his friend's eye, almost daring him to turn this on Caleb.
"Shit!" was all the other man managed.
They were both silent for a second. John living up to his role; broke the peace first.
"How badly compromised is he? Who is this other woman that he saw? Is the Brotherhood compromised, has Seaver got a doorway in to us?" the questions were fired with the same sharp rapport as a locked and loaded sub-machine gun.
"Fuck you Winchester- Caleb IS US!" Mackland shouted. "You are a piss poor excuse for a Father and you can tout your kids around like luggage- but this is MY son….he lives and breathes nothing but the bullshit playbook you sold him! What the hell are you insinuating…"
In two steps John covered the space between them and had Mac by the collar.
"I don't give a flying fuck weather you think I am Father of the year or not- but this is the only way I know to help him. I WILL NOT loose another member of my Family! Not Him! Not like this! So stow the Whiney Bastard, blame game – and get the fuck on board before this little bitch takes Caleb down."
"It's the way he simplifies all his battle plans that has me hooked on his leadership style." A southern voice crooned from the doorway.
Both men looked up and upon seeing Pastor Jim flanked by Bobby; released each other hurriedly.
"James, you heard?" Ames stated in a flat voice, more an accusation than a question.
The clergyman crossed the room to place himself between the Scholar and the Knight and gently laid a hand on each of Mack's shoulders.
"We all love him as if he were our own Mackland, but Jonathan's right in order to help him we must fortify our own position. And believe me when I say Caleb stands at the very heart of the Brotherhoods interest."
Mackland merely nodded, knowing that the choking sensation that accompanied the burning in his eyes would not make for a manly response right now.
Jim patted his friend and turned towards Bobby.
"We need every lead we can get on this player Bobby. Who she is first and then the whys and the wherefores. We have to identify the nature of the threat she poses to Caleb. Sound out all your sources… that includes the ones you would rather I didn't know about."
The baseball cap may have dropped a little lower shading the eyes at the last comment, but the Solider in truckers clothing snapped too and set off on his errand.
The Guardian's face softened, military command giving way to his genuine concern as he faced Mackland once more.
"How is Caleb, Mackland? John filled me in on the circumstances of his injuries. I know you well enough to know that you would rather be with him than here and frankly, I want someone with him, in case our concealed foe decides to play her hand."
Ames began to try to explain about the Hellhound passing herself off as Medical staff, but Jim smiled affectionately at him.
"Hellhound?" the Cleric's mouth quirked. "I wonder if young Caleb hasn't irrevocably altered you in ways we have not even begun to imagine Mackland. Don't worry, I called ahead and all should be in order for you to join your boy now."
Mack was fairly certain his mouth looked like it had some feathered hook protruding from it.
"But how did you manage… she was a ghastly…" he fumbled even as he grabbed his coat.
John smiled grimly "It pays to be the Guardian."
Looking to the Pastor he added. "I will go with Ames; I want to secure the area with some warding spells. Bobby will stay here with you and the boys, till you give me something to chase when I come back." In a certain tone of someone whose word was law.
"It would appear it only pays to be the Guardian, when the Knight lets you have some fun." Jim quipped.
/
The amazing change in the attitude and unsurprisingly the location, of the now very red faced Senior Nurse at Saint Luke's was bordering on miraculous. She had welcomed him back and then removed herself from the vicinity. Though Mackland thanked the woman as graciously as he could, which mostly involved not grinding his teeth in her face, he was more interested in getting to his Son's side.
He entered Caleb's room and threw his coat on the cot that had been prepared for him in the far corner. Lifting the chart at the end of the bed he scanned it quickly. No further complications and Caleb was responding well to treatment, prognosis was good. Sighing with relief he jumped slightly at the timid knock at the door. Frowning he stepped beside his sleeping son and laid his hand on the concealed holstered gun. Jonathan was off ghost proofing the area and working his way backward to Caleb's room, Ames had not needed prompting to smuggle the weapon in this time. When it came to Caleb's safety protocol could take a flying jump off a very short pier. Hospital staff would knock to announce their entrance to the room, there would be no pause, and Jonathan would not knock at all. Ames' hand contacted the cold steel whilst his body manoeuvred to stand between the door and Caleb.
The silence was unnerving. Had he really heard a knock or was his taxed imagination playing tricks on him? The sound of tapping came more confidently this time accompanied by three things; a flickering of lights, a sharp dip in temperature and a childlike voice calling simply
"Dr Ames?"
In one motion he drew his gun and went for his phone to summon John. Caleb murmured in his sleep and Mack glanced down at the boys sleeping form. It was at this precise point that the Doctor felt the phone lurch from his hand and fly across the room to land safely on the visitor's bed.
I mean you and your boy no harm. Please listen, there isn't much time!
As a man of Science living behind the curtain of the Supernatural world, he had, had to dispel a lot of his beloved scientific laws, but it comforted him that this world too had some boundaries.
"I see you know my name, Cecile. But as you can see I know yours too- now show yourself before my friend returns and makes this ugly!" Mack grated menacingly.
I cannot be compelled in that way Doctor, someone else holds my leash; but for the sake of goodwill I will show myself.
The Scholar couldn't help taking the safety off in reaction to the sudden appearance of the young female on the other side of his son's bed.
"Get the hell away from him." Ames ground out, levelling the gun at her.
Tilting her head to the side she watched him dispassionately.
"I had hoped you were the reasonable one. I don't have time to waste, she is distracted with her end game now and that abomination she has raised takes more energy than she thought, but she will notice my proximity to the boy soon enough."
The older man blinked at the chiding note in the ten year olds voice that seemed so much older than she appeared.
"Why should I trust you – the hell you have put my boy through warrants…."
"Don't presume to know what hell is Doctor – that level of arrogance invites the Devil's attention- and he already has his eye on your charge. Ignore me at the boy's expense – I am Cecile Dupree, I was slain at the hand of Noah Seaver and raised by a very powerful witch. I cannot name her but she is a descendent of the bone conjurer of the Old Testament. She seeks not merely your boy's life but will also gain his soul. She wields Souls like weapons – we are bound to her."
The girl stalled and wavered looking shocked for a moment before setting her mouth in a determined grim line.
"She knows – she knows. Never mind- I was mistaken, I thought my actions would end an evil. Your Son… I was used, I was wrong. But there is another, one she seeks to harness, the cursed Preacher but he is stronger than her will… ughhh too late too late. She is coming here- she lacks the power to compel this new devil over great distance- she is about to try to complete her mission, and in order to do that she will harvest your son. Her power is … amulet … blood magic…"
The young face contorted and swelled and warped until Cecile's burnt visage flickered intermittently with her pretty features before the fire that took her life. Mack watched in horror as she seemed to catch alight in front of his eyes and burn away to nothingness.
Caleb's murmuring became more coherent and he laid a comforting hand on the boy's cheek even as he called John.
"Yeah?" the gruff voice answered in a distracted way.
"I think she got under the net you are drawing Jonathan. I was just visited by – the spirit that Caleb described."
"What? Are you Ok- is Caleb…"
Mack could hear the sound of his friend running as he spoke.
"We are fine. But she came bearing a warning Jonathan, our enemy is targeting Caleb, and she is coming to town. He is not safe here; we need to get him to higher ground."
John snorted "You're going to have to pull an AMA manoeuvre Doc- give Junior an early birthday present by springing him from this joint. Is he up to it?"
"He is stable; by some divine intervention he has avoided permanent damage. He is still weak and will need close attention, but the cons are outweighed by the threat to his life." Ames reasoned as logically as he was able to.
"Good enough for me. I'll be there in two minutes, stay where you are, I'll get the papers to you."
The line went dead and Mackland wondered if John really thought that there was a hint of a chance that he was going to leave his boy alone.
/ /
There were certain things you never expect to happen, and then there are things that should never happen to you! Being outsmarted by a traitorous ten year old wench qualified as category B for Verity.
"What has that little half wit done- she may have ruined it all if she was spotted by anyone other than the boy!" she growled at her reflection in the cramped airplane washroom.
Glancing just above the top of her head she listened to the attempts of her familiars to pacify her anger. They had been shocked by her swift move to sever the little wretch's existence. She could feel their disapproval and the uncertainty that it bred in their thoughts. Exactly what she needed – Ms Dupree may have been a sanctimonious pain in her side, and Verity had decided to discard her pointless overly pious soul a long time ago, but in this way her destruction served as a reminder to the others, that they were all means to an end. And with the epic battle for the reins of Noah Seaver's soul it was a timely show of force. In the face of the resistance the possessed Cleric put up, murmurs had begun to surface amongst her group. And that was not a rumble of dissent she could afford to ignore. She needed their utter obedience to bend their will. It hadn't been such a struggle in her Mother's or Grandmother's day. This thinning of the power was something she kept from them too. These were not kittens she had been left with, and one did not need to unnecessarily expose ones jugular.
"Of course we are going to finish this assignment – I am a Le Harve aren't I?" her indignation ran cold against the heat of her assertion.
"Pride cometh before the fall, have you read that passage?" a gravel like Southern accent cut through the chattering voices.
Involuntarily Verity put a hand to her temple. He was too loud, almost too expansive a spirit to contain. His form was still a greyed out silhouette. That he had the ability to hide himself at all bore testimony to how tenuous her hold on him was. She did not hold the reigns, though she had raised his spirit, he was merely allowing her to steer when their interests coincided. She wondered what his end game was; he would help her, but only as it fit his requirements.
"Why would I not want to be re-united with young Caleb, Miss Le Harve? We are kin after all." Seaver asked innocently.
"I allow you to contact your – kinsman, but I need to know that you understand who is in charge here. Your task is specific, you cannot harm him directly, and he must step willingly into his own oblivion…"
"Fret not bone conjurer, I am well aware of the circumstances under which my Grandson and I must be re-united. And I am under no illusions on any front. But that feeble little chattel, Cecile has ever had a deceitful nature. She also had ample opportunity to scupper your plans with her snivelling incompetence. You must send me ahead – to limit any damage. I will go to the boy; you will us join in time to witness his crossing …"
"No Seaver! I must get there to facilitate his crossing, the ceremony depends heavily on timing. If you break him too early he is lost to both of us." Verity began hotly.
There was a timid knock on the door and one of the gum chewing goldfish that passed as flight attendants cleared her throat in a shaky manner.
"Um Ma'm. Are you ok in there? May I help you at all?"
Verity swore to herself before throwing some platitude at the little squib to get rid of her.
She would have to straighten this out. The real world threats on planes could become a major inconvenience to her plans if they judged her behaviour to be too outlandish. Most things were a threat to National Security these days. Now she'd have to concede to Seaver's demand. Le Harve would just have to hope that he did not lack restraint as Cecile had when it came to tampering with Reaves mind. Losing the thread she barely held, she maintained the merest wisp of a connection to Noah Seaver. It was not that she trusted him- but what option did she have? She could not fail; she had her family name to live up to.
/
The journey back to the apartment had been awkward and aggravating. There was something more than just his latest misadventure. It had Mack balled up into a tight bundle of nerves. Some threat that lingered just out of detection, he even suspected that the vagueness of the read he was getting was his adoptive Father's doing. His first major clue came when he had come to in time to see Mack signing the Against Medical Advice papers to set him free from Saint Luke's. But more than that there was something fogging the air so that he couldn't quite get a read, maybe something had happened whilst he had been napping and he had missed it. He was being stonewalled by his Father and fed the 'Need to Know' diet by John, and it all just served to widen the gap between him and his family.
Caleb felt alienated, alone, exposed- he had told Mack all about his contact with Cecile and the nightmares about Seaver, and now it was like the lines of communication had been retracted. Had his head spun round whilst he had been out? Maybe he had projectile vomited pea soup in his sleep and the Brotherhood felt the need to quarantine this dangerous mongrel? His head formed the thought in jest, his heart clenched for fear that there was some truth to it. Had he crossed an unforgiveable line? Now that there was a tangible, albeit otherworldly, testimony to his link with Seaver, was he finally being met with Brotherhood justice?
He was scared. As a shiver shook his entire body and Mack glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, something unreadable passed in his eyes. There was a time when Caleb knew ever expression his stepfather had- now it was like he was a stranger. Caleb was scared – but not of the thought of what they would or could do … he was afraid this reckoning was long overdue. He was petrified that he was too much of a coward to take the consequences that were rightfully his by birthright... without putting up a fight. .