A/N; It has been so long since I have updated this, that all my reasons have morphed into one BIG excuse- all I got is a very poor sorry to anyone waiting on this story. Special shout out to Montez who has this fabulous polite way of tapping the clock - LOL- but she did contribute to motivating me to spill words onto the screen, and for that I am very greatful. An even bigger thank you goes to Lovinjackson for her amazing Beta skills- all mistakes are my blindness!- she really knows how to drop those hints and comments that get you moving on a story again and she is the most amazingly generous giver of her time - can't Thank you enough, I kow the circumstances under which you read through this, it really makes me appreciate you more Wingchick.
I have every intention of finishing this story, it may be slow, but it is in its last leg. (NOT a very good sales pitch is it?) Thank you to any of you still following this, and as every all pointers or suggestionsare greatfully recieved. Abi.
Sympathy For The Devil; Ch 12
Dean carefully poured two glasses of milk in the spacious cavern that was the Ames kitchen. It sometimes occurred to him exactly how loaded Mac and Damien truly were. His best friends bad taste jokes about the Ames fortune merely supplementing his natural attributes, didn't come close to grazing the truth of it. The last two motel room suites Dean and his family had been holed up in, would both have comfortably fit in the kitchen dinning area. Yet one of the two figures seated at the table on the far side of the room, looked for all the world like he was trapped in a six by four cell.
It wasn't the irregular breathing that got to the teenager; after all Caleb had taken the Mother of all smack downs and had been taken out of hospital via the AMA route; it was the almost alien expression the other teen wore. The elder Winchester could only place it somewhere between jumpy and ticked off. The continually bouncing knee was distracting, but not as annoying as Reaves' most telling give-away; the cracking of his knuckles. Caleb was wound way too tight.
"And you thought warm milk would help with that?" the dark haired youth snorted.
Dean hid the stung expression as best he could whilst grating out, "Drink the cow juice dick head, or I'll go crush some of Mac's decent sleeping pills into it."
The third member of the Breakfast-Club parody watched with interest as he chugged his milk. Looking between the stony glares of his companions Sammy tried to figure out if this could somehow be smoothed out. He pieced together what he could see in front of him; Caleb looked like he did sometimes when he and Dad went out hunting. Dean acted like he usually did when Caleb was really hurt, cautiously watching the older teen when he thought no one was looking... so why was everyone so angry?
"What happened to your face Caleb?" Sam asked directly catching the older youths eye.
"Nice." Caleb groused.
"Hey..." Dean interjected almost immediately. "Sensitive much? You know he didn't mean it like that..."
Caleb locked eyes with his best friend, and Sammy watched as the two friends appeared to continue their confrontation on a different level- a silent combat of wills only they were aware of. Dean seemed to win as Reaves dropped his eyes first.
"I'm not the touchy one here Nursemaid Winchester – I was merely going to point out the charming trait Sammy seems to share with his Father for the direct route." Caleb explained in a terse voice. "We may not be on the same page right now, but do I really have to defend the way I talk to your brother to you?"
"You can't blame me Damien – you're acting like …." Dean stuttered not meeting his friends eye.
Caleb felt the burning head ache that seemed to taunt the barrage of pills he'd taken, go up several notches. So this was it? After all the mishaps and disagreements- this was the line Dean would not cross for their friendship? Funny he always knew it would be Sam. Dean was actually putting himself between Caleb and Sam- like he was protecting his baby brother. The venom rolled in Reaves veins again, and he clamped his jaw so hard his muscles ticked, he didn't want to give voice to the first line, expletive response to Dean's half hearted accusation. Instead he grasped the table with a white knuckled grip and fired single word descriptives like bullets, watching with a small amount of satisfaction as every one hit their mark, causing his one-time best friend to flinch.
" Like What? A... threat? Freak? Psycho?" Caleb spat.
" No – you totally get the prize for Mr Stability, ass-hole! Don't you fucking get it? I'm not scared for us I'm scared for..." Dean's tirade was cut short as John walked into the room.
The knight regarded both boys with a quirked eyebrow. He'd heard the friction on his approach to the kitchen and knew from the tone that it was not in keeping with the usual banter between the boys. Hardly a surprise after recent events. John decided to proceed with the tried and tested method of plausible deniability, though it had never been so hard to feign neutrality, as it was when one of his family was so obviously suffering. Pulling out his best spit and polish attitude he continued briskly.
"Ace can you square Sammy away today? Bobby and I are going to take a field trip. Junior, you'll be part of the honour guard here, for the Guardian, along with your Dad and Perkins..."
"Perkins? Really?" Caleb questioned with obviously faked surprise.
Perkins was old school Brotherhood- he was what could be referred to as cast iron safe hands in John's book . Reaves had seen the middle aged man with even fewer social skills than his mentor, on many missions that involved Triad members or the Winchester boys. Johnny trusted fewer outsiders than a schizophrenic Stone Mason at that time of month. If he had to go on a mission that warranted both he and Bobby; Perkins, was next in the chain of trust. They young psychic swallowed a lump in his throat as he realised that he'd just displaced himself in that line-up. Caleb felt so far out of kilter, that he could almost let the slight go- Perkins was John's insurance. This measure signalled the liability he had become louder than if Johnny had called him out publicly.
"You got a problem with Perkins Reaves?" John asked not missing the way the young man visibly winced whilst getting up from the table.
"Not at all Johnny." Caleb answered a little too sweetly.
"Good." John brushed off. "Pastor Jim would like to see you in the study."
"With the holy water ?" Caleb breathed quietly.
John chose to ignore the comment he half caught. He was used to brash Reaves, over confident smart mouth Reaves – and even the darker version of Caleb that sometimes showed up on his doorstep begging with his eyes alone to be given something to pummel. But this sullen, twitchy version, who seemed at odds with everyone he held dear... this incarnation was new, and entirely unwelcome. John desperately wanted to find the bitch who caused this and gank her in a thoroughly convincing way!
He let his protégée go first, something he wouldn't normally even think about, but the awkward way Caleb moved and held himself way too rigidly signalled alarm bells even in the Marines 'suck it up' psyche. The boy was beat to hell, but from his experience with Caleb when injured, the stark lack of banter about the hot nurses or even crowing over the fact that Mac had actually AMA'ed his ass out of a hospital; was glaringly missing. The limping form in front of him with the powerfully built shoulders and broad back was like a pod person. John couldn't help but let his over active tacticians mind wander to the large number of scenarios where bad things happened if they couldn't find a way to help Caleb. He'd trained Reaves, he knew, maybe better than the boy did, what his student was capable of. If there was the slimmest chance that Caleb could be turned and made to go dark-side then the Brotherhood was royally screwed, because he, as the knight, was its first line of defence, and he could not bring himself to take out the child he'd watched grow to manhood. It was part of the reason he was so relieved that Perkins was in the area … Winchester let the grim thought fade- who was he kidding? If it had to be done … it would be no other hand than his. He owed Junior that, and he loved him enough to ensure it – even though he'd destroy himself and his extended family doing it.
Caleb ground his teeth in frustration. Damn John and his iron clad mental blocks! His unsubtle remark about Perkins presence had obviously tipped the knight off to the fact that he knew the real reason the other hunter was part of the 'Honour Guard'. When the knight no longer believed his private-in -training was trustworthy, or even sane, naturally he'd set up a gun he could count on. What was grating, was that Caleb couldn't get a read on what this meeting with Pastor Jim was in aid of? Had they already decided to neuter him – to take out the threat he represented? His stomach twisted painfully as he realised two things. Firstly "they" included Mac and secondly Johnny was likely to be the one to bring down the hammer. A sour acrid taste flooded his mouth and a shiver ran through him like a bucket of ice cubes. Was he being marched away from Deuce and Sammy without a scene? Was that why John had him walking ahead of him, so he could spot and neutralise the danger?
As they neared his Father's study Caleb picked up on the psychic impression of Mac first and Bobby and Jim slowly after him. A spike of panic ran through his mind as he feels how slack the link is between his foster Father and himself. Was Mac shielding himself?
What were the upper seats of the Brotherhood planning that required the Scholar pull on his Psychic Poker face? Voices filtered to him that did nothing to disperse his suspicions or the dread that had settled in his heart. Jim's voice was calm if a little strained.
"We will do what is necessary, Robert. Caleb is here with us – for a reason..."
"No offence, Pastor but calling Slick might not be a bad precaution to consider." Bobby offered in a good natured tone that made Caleb's fists itch.
Picking up his pace a little Reaves sensed John was caught off guard slightly as he stormed into the room, startling the occupants. He glared at Bobby but let his eyes settle squarely on Jim Murphy.
"You think I'm compromised?" the psychic spat. "Why don't you do something about it huh? Or is the half demonic pit-bull fine so long as he's on a fucking leash?"
In the next second John had planted himself firmly between Caleb and his prey and squared up to the six foot three psychic. It was then that Reaves realised that he had advanced on the Guardian. Winchester jabbed him squarely in the chest to break his attention, punctuating each word with his finger.
"Boy I'd settle for housebroken!" John growled "That's the Guardian your talking to!"
"Jonathan! Stand-down." Murphy commanded in a firm voice.
The knight took a few steps, but did not back away. This did not phase Jim Murphy as he kept eye contact with Caleb and stepped towards the agitated youth. Placing himself in Caleb's personal space he spoke clearly.
"No son – I don't believe you are compromised... I believe we are. Your Family Caleb, who have a job to do, a mission that they have given their lives over to and we would compromise all that for the boy we have watched grow up before us. My Knight let you get within striking distance of me, because he's too distracted by your discomfort to remember the knife I can see you have stowed in your shirt. My Scholar, who has several nasty containment spells at his disposal, which could disarm you, but would sooner turn them all on himself simultaneously than see you harmed. One of my best field Hunters, wants to call on Joshua Sawyers considerable wiccan skills to ensure that you have help on hand, before we go after the Witch who set your phantom visitor on you. All these men are consummate professionals – trained, skilled and deadly, but in the face of a threat to one of our own …" the Pastor left his point hanging.
Caleb shook his head in exasperation. "I never asked for that."
Jim smiled fondly at the gruff expression. "And you'll never again need to ask or question where our loyalties lie either, will you?"
Caleb dropped his gaze immediately as if he'd been burned. Murphy suspected the boy's emotions were getting the better of him and it was not something he was comfortable with airing even amongst his adopted family.
Switching easily to Guardian mode and allowing Caleb to keep his dignity intact Murphy carried on.
" Robert, you and Jonathan can update me on your sweep for our incoming target. Mackland, please appraise Caleb of the home guard detail, Perkins has his eye on the boys. Gentleman we face both Supernatural and human foes here, and their combined attack makes me more than a little uneasy. But we must neutralize the threat before we can investigate its origins."
"Bobby and I will stake out the airport – the spooks intel was on the money. It didn't take long too identify our biblical star... pity all that dark magic doesn't hide you so well from other witches. And its definitely a bonus that Bobby's standards are sooo low that he stoops to …." John began with an attempt to cut the grim atmosphere.
The comment earned him a crude response from the junk yard owner, but Reaves' attention was claimed by the sudden appearance of his Father at his side.
"I believe holding our discussions next door would be more profitable." Ames said simply gesturing to adjoining room that led to his private library.
Upon entering the well stocked library that adjoined the study Caleb claimed one of the straight backed easy chairs without a word. Mac had expected to be accosted with questions. Jim had revealed a few facts he would have preferred to explain to Caleb himself. There was no easy way to explain that you had been targeted by a Supernatural assassin. Once Bobby had identified the modern day descendant of the biblical Witch of Endor, her families trail of death and destruction was unmissable... if you knew what you were looking for. To the untrained eye, the series of high profile calamities and suicides seemed par for the course and were diverse enough targets to never form a traceable pattern for police. But they were not the police, and there was only one response the Brotherhood could give to such blatant breeches of their codes – Jim had already given the green light for John to take Verity Le Harve out. The crimes that she had committed in the name of profit were too heinous to do otherwise.
"So Supernatural hit-woman huh? There's a unique niche!" Caleb commented rubbing his eyes.
"You... read me?"
"Don't worry... I paid for it." the boy laughed darkly pinching the bridge of his nose.
Ames drew up the foot stool to sit opposite his son.
"All you need to do is ask, Caleb. We've always trusted each other before."
"Am I still in the circle of trust, Mac? Is that such a good idea when I have a paranormal target on my ass? Jim's right I am a liability..."
"You must be tired, because you seem to have misheard the point in Jim's explanation – you are family."
"I'm not worth taking this big a risk for Dad, and you know it! The Brotherhood is more important than the demon offspring of …. Noah Seaver. Who is this witch? What does she want with me?"
Deciding to level with his boy, Mac answered as directly as he could.
"While you were recovering in hospital, I met your unwanted ghostly guest, Cecile."
Reaves let out a whistle. "Did you smoke the stalker?"
"Well Miss Dupree has expired but not by our actions. In fact she expired trying to warn me about the Witch who conjured her, and deceived her into targeting you."
"So she had assassins remorse and couldn't pull the trigger? Because she seemed pretty convinced that the world would be a better place without me- in all our 'conversations' . Who was she working for?"
"I know this may not be what you want to hear right now Caleb, but she was nearly as much a victim here as you, her conjurer was a powerful witch with a famous ancestry, called Verity Le Harve."
Ames knew both from the bleak look in the boys eyes and the wave of hostility that emanated from him that he'd hit a little too close to home.
Reaves was frozen. He blinked several times but did not feel his body carry out his minds commands. He tried to wave his hand to alert his Father that something was very wrong, but his limbs were stiff and numb. In his head a scream went up as something repulsive slid through his thoughts, a foreign but not unfamiliar presence slithered through him. Caleb threw his hands over his eyes. This was not happening! He couldn't move, couldn't act... and that sickly sweet other consciousness was winding its way round him, pressing nearer to him.
You're strong son... but on a good day. And lets face it, been a while since you've seen one of those, right? Your defences are useless here, Caleb, all I need is a chink, and you've gifted me with a whole chasm... or maybe it just feels right to you?"
"Get the hell away from me you sick bastard! I will not be like you! I. AM. N.O.T.H.I.N.G like you!"
The laughter that rang in his mind hurt on so many levels that Caleb curled himself into the tightest ball he could.
"That's fine thanks for your deliverer! We are family Caleb, and I come to strengthen you to meet the challenge of the Witch. She is stronger than your delusional associates believe her to be, and with your abilities she stands to grow to a state of unrivalled power."
"Your the delusional one if you think I'd join one of the bitches of Eastwick any sooner than I would join you. You can both go fuc..."
"Your Father had prettier manners but not an inch of the bravery you hold. It is a shame that our introduction should be under these circumstances... but time is of an essence for me- and you. And yet you fight? Fine obstinate upstart... the consequences of what comes next is yours – you will beg me for my help. The witch knows where you and your pretence of a family are, she has alighted on this soil and her first line of attack is on its way … but I'm sure you and the two snot nosed brats will make a fine last stand …."
Caleb let out a sharp breathas sensation came back to his body. Mac took a hold of his other shoulder as he felt a trickle of sweat run down his nose.
"She's here Mac- Le Harve has landed." Caleb growled in a voice pinched with pain.
"Son, are you... how do you...?"
Reaves' smile held no mirth as he tapped his head and muttered one word as if it were a curse.
"Seaver."
That one word may well have been hexed from Mac's reaction. In the next instant he was being hauled with equal parts of care and haste back through the room where the Knight had jut departed. The Scholar gave Jim the tactical update without breaking stride, whilst his Father gently held his arm as some of his injuries protested the speed.
Reaves took to breathing through his nose in an attempt to control the building pressure in his head, he missed whatever order Mac barked at Perkins to bring him to attention with his weapon unholstered and the canister of rock salt magically appearing in the hunter's left hand. As Caleb stumbled and let a growl escape him, he realised that Mac had somehow managed to slip an arm round his waist and shouldered the majority of his weight. It dawned on him sharply that he was losing the ability to operate under his own steam and he called out to Mac weakly in fear and panic. The last thing his fleeing senses registered was his Father's voice.
"I've got you son... Caleb? I've got you and the only way they are going to get to you is through me!"
It was as solid a promise as he had ever heard …. and it scared him to the depths of his soul. Because Mac meant every syllable – and he would... in all likelihood, be the instrument of his Father's destruction.