Chapter Six
AN: As per my other story, I'm a bad bad writer *hangs head in shame* my apologies for the delay in posting. I do support them but as I am not paid, I have not joined the writers' strike. I've just been crazy busy. Please forgive me.
As always, toys belong to Kripke and Ridley, much love and thanks to Meilean, and hugs and kisses to all readers xx
On with the show.
NOW: The Marriott
Dean was once again out for the count. Caleb, who had been resting on the other bed, had propped himself up on one elbow to watch worriedly as Mac checked the teen's vitals and applied a fresh compress of herbs to the scratches on his thigh. It was a band aid on a bullet wound until they found this thing and put it down for good. Bobby and Joshua had been sent on recon in the woods where the victim had been found and Dean had been hurt.
Recalling that John had mentioned Dean being injured on the previous hunt, Mac checked for older wounds. He found some sutures in several long lacerations across the teen's stomach and the remnants of bruising around his ribs. The neat, careful stitches told the doctor they were self-administered. Dean had done a good job keeping them clean but Mac couldn't help but worry. Despite what John, and Dean himself, seemed to think, the boy was only sixteen, still a child.
"Why didn't he call? Or at least say something once he knew we were here?" the doctor asked no one in particular.
"Don't worry, he'll be doing a full debrief regarding this little busman's he's been on," John growled from the doorway, watching Dean's face.
Mac wanted to say something, but they'd had that argument too many times already and it never did any good. Still, he made a point of exposing and cleaning the older wounds.
"Tell me about this Succarath." John interrupted Mac's thoughts as if he knew where they'd gone and wanted to change the subject. Mackland's eyes flitted to his own son before he started speaking.
"The myths suggest they are some kind of fae or fae relation. Mostly known for sadistic kills and consuming their own young. I came across a reference in one of the old hunter journals in the tomb a few years ago and did some follow up research."
"Why?" John asked.
Mac glanced at Caleb again.
"Because they hunt psychics," Caleb filled in for him.
"They are drawn to them," Mac mitigated. "They use a psychic link to draw in their prey and other psychics are … the lore is not clear. They are a threat but they are also most at risk," Mac ran a finger over his eyebrow. "From what I could find, Succarath usually need to infect a person with their venom in order to make a link."
"Like with Ace."
"Yes. Successful kills seem to involve stabbing the Succarath in the brain with a silver blade. But it is almost impossible to do without getting poisoned and once it gets its venom in you, it gets in your head and game over."
"It won't stop coming for Deuce until we kill it," Caleb said grimly.
John's eyes blazed with murderous intent. But Caleb shook his head.
"You need to stay with Dean, it can track him anywhere …"
"You can stay with him," John interrupted. He was offense, not defence. He gave the orders; he didn't take them. He was the Knight, Caleb was not, not yet. Besides, Caleb hadn't taken his eyes off Dean since they picked him up.
There was a struggle on the young psychic's face, his eyes lingered on Dean's face but he shook his head. "It needs to be me in the field."
"Because it's different with psychics?" John queried, turning to the Scholar.
Mac looked worriedly at his son. When he spoke, his measured tones seemed more forced than normal. "From what I could find, it can link with any psychics that are near, it doesn't need the venom."
Caleb was staring at Dean's pinched features, thinking hard. "And I'm betting that works both ways, that's why psychics are more vulnerable but also a threat," he explained.
"Then it is a battle of minds?" John guessed. "A stronger psychic can win, a weaker one will fall to the thing even without the poison."
He too was now watching Caleb. Mac made a move but Caleb held up a hand to forestall him.
"I can go out with Bobby and Josh. If I can beat it, great. If not, I'll be bait and they can gank the sucker." No one needed to point out the third option and the reason he was suggesting John not go on the first incursion.
"Assume bait," John said before Mac could start in on more objections.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Caleb grumbled.
A small smile pulled at John's lips but then he got serious and explained his thinking. "If you go in as bait and can beat it, all good. If you go in to beat it and can't, Singer and Sawyer will be on clean up."
"Maybe they should go without him," Mac suggested before anyone could stop him.
Caleb and John made eye contact. It was John that broke the news.
"It already knows he's here."
"How?" Mac looked between his son and the Knight, trying to think of a way he could convince either that Caleb shouldn't hunt this thing.
"It was linked to Dean when he read him."
SPNBROAU
NOW: The Woods
Caleb travelled to the woods separately from Bobby and Josh. There was something itchy crawling under his skin. Partly it was not knowing the full plan. John had deliberately made sure he knew as little as possible. In the event this thing got through his blocks it was better that he couldn't give their game plan away. He understood it but it left him feeling exposed. It didn't help that his link to Dean was still stifled and the kid himself was giving Caleb the cold shoulder.
Caleb suspected it was partly because of the argument but mostly because he was worried. Dean's insistence that Caleb leave, as well as the fact he didn't call, made more sense once he saw Dean's face when the kid overheard them discussing the hunt.
After parking, he walked in a direct line into the clearing he'd seen in Dean's thoughts. He knew where the Succarath was, just as it knew he was coming.
Succarath were sensitive to daylight, it was debilitating to them when they were young but they built up a resistance by the time they were full grown. Even so, it weakened them. Which meant there was no way they'd lure it to somewhere that could give them a tactical advantage in the day. In the end, they'd decided on a near dawn attack. Still dark enough to draw it out but the approaching sun should give them the option to fall back and regroup if things went south. It wouldn't stray far from its den until the following nightfall.
Caleb found it waiting in a small clearing. The battering on his blocks was already thunderous, even before it even came into view. It lessened slightly as he broke through the treeline.
The face that turned to him was vaguely human, though the body, covered in coarse hair with four bowed legs ending in huge paws, was distinctly monstrous. Three young clung to its back. In the shadows of dappled moonlight they could be human children, except for the way they moved.
As his eyes lingered on them, the Succarath turned its head, in a quick jerky movement, and swallowed one whole. The other two continued to cling to its back, unperturbed by the fate of their sibling.
"That's gross," Caleb said, casually. "But it saves me a job."
A moment later, he felt the pressure in his head increase. He pushed back against the psychic intrusion and the beast snarled and shook its head.
It moved towards him, just a few heavy steps, and glared.
Caleb moved forwards too, keeping out of reach but standing exposed in the clearing, his hands empty of weapons. He pushed harder against the pressure, opening his blocks slightly to reach out and psychically touch the thing's mind. It was a swirling cacophony of painfully bright colours. Caleb forced his energy into them, churning them up, like mixing a paint pallet.
The Succarath howled and shook its head again, stomping forward a few steps then backing off. Yellow irises stared at him angrily.
With another of those quick jerky movements, it snapped another of its young from its back, looking at him again as it chewed, opened mouthed, the bloody body.
Caleb's stomach churned. Sharp pains shot through his synapses. His vision blurred. But he forced a grin.
"That all you got, fugly?"
The creature feinted forwards again. Caleb tried to hold his ground but staggered slightly under the mental attack. He gritted his teeth and pushed back harder. The pain in his head was reaching retching levels and one of his hands came up to press against it. There was a glint in the yellow eyes now. This time when it came forwards it didn't back off again.
Caleb focused on what he had to do, on what would happen if he failed, and pushed past the pain. His vision wavered and he suspected his body did too but he pushed deep into the thing's mind, ripping and clawing mentally at everything he found there. He was so lost in the colours that he barely got an arm up to block the blow that came, knocking him back so he only just kept his feet.
The Succarath roared in anger and pain, stomping its paws and shaking its head, but the determination in its eyes told Caleb he was in trouble. He was nearly spent and this thing seemed to have barely started. With effort he repressed the gag that was threatening and continued his mental assault. Everything around him shimmered and dimmed. His head felt like it would explode and he wouldn't have been surprised to discover his eyeballs were bleeding. But he didn't stop, he didn't back off. He forced himself to step forward again, closer to the beast.
Another blow came, he tried to block it with his arms but his body had no strength and he went down. He was able to roll away from the stomping paws, blinking hard, trying to get his vision to clear. There was something like electricity in his head and he cried out, trying to block the attack.
A shot blasted into the clearing.
The pain lessened, slightly, but he still couldn't see properly.
Through blurry eyes he could just make out the Succarath. It had jerked back and around, and now seemed to be looking off into the trees. He focused what was left of his strength and pushed again at the thing's mind.
It howled.
Another shot rang out, from a different direction. The creature jerked aside again before turning to look another way, nearly stomping Caleb in the process, though he escaped with just a kick to his ribs.
He rolled onto his front, trying to get his hands under him.
Then the pain struck again.
All vision left him and his face hit the forest floor.
SPNBROAU
NOW: The Marriott
Mac heard the scream, ragged and primal. Grabbing his gun, he ran into the bedroom.
Dean wasn't in his bed.
The covers were crumpled on the floor and a trail of blood was smeared across the rug. He followed it, heart in his throat, to the bathroom and burst through the door, gun at the ready.
Dean was on the mat, head in his hands, rocking and moaning. His leg trailed behind him, having been dragged as he crawled. It was bleeding profusely.
Mac dropped to the floor beside the boy, laying his gun aside, he grabbed a towel and tried to press it to the wound. Dean continued to rock and moan, seemingly unaware of him.
The doctor ran into the other room and grabbed his bag before running back to the bathroom.
He lifted the towel. Blood seeped from the scratches. He replaced the towel.
He tried to keep pressure on it, with one hand while the other pressed against Dean's neck, checking his pulse. He was all too aware that Caleb was out there somewhere, possibly right in the path of the thing that was doing this. Mac pushed his terror aside, focus on the job at hand, on the things he could do something about.
Dean's skin was warm, his pulse fast, his breath coming in small pants. Tears rolled down the boy's face which was screwed up in pain.
Mac opened his bag. Much as he hated to see what Dean was going through, he did not dare administer any drugs. He had to trust in the hunters in the field, in Caleb. He sent out a quick plea for and to his son.
"I'm sorry Dean," Mac swallowed. "This is going to hurt."
Reaching into his bag he pulled out the holy water.
SPNBROAU
NOW: The Woods
The only thing Caleb knew was pain.
Another shot rang out. Another direction again.
The pain lessened slightly.
Then another shot.
The Succarath was turning, scuttling one way then another, looking for its attackers but unable to pin one down before another shot from another direction rang out.
Its stomping feet turned this way and that. It howled its frustration.
Caleb still couldn't get his eyes to work properly. Grass shimmered in a blurry haze. He tried again to get a hand under him as more shots rang out. They were getting closer. Still circling, keeping out of sight and continuing to move between each trigger pull.
Caleb managed to roll onto his side.
The huge shadowy blob he could just make out, seemed to be dancing.
One arm left useless, he pulled the other, shaky hand, closer to him, after a few tries, he got it to his chest.
Several shots came close together.
The Succarath howled again.
Caleb managed to grasp the knife tucked inside his jacket.
As the beast snatched the last baby from its back, there was a brief window where the pain dropped. Caleb gathered the last of his strength and pushed himself up, thrusting the blade up, under the creature's chin, into its brain. As he had psychically, he twisted and turned the blade, stirring the matter he found.
There was a deep guttural gurgling. Pain shot through his head and body. There was a crack that he felt more than heard, like something vital snapping.
Then he knew no more.
SPNBROAU
NOW: The Marriott
Dean had been struggling, crying out in pain and horror as the holy water bubbled and fizzed over his leg. Mac kept him in place but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.
In the horror of the moment, it was hard to say which came first. Dean slumped, like someone had switched him off, and the water was no longer fizzing.
Mac pressed his fingers against Dean's neck. Holding his breath, he waited.
The breath was released, long and slow, when he felt the throb of a pulse. It was still a little fast but seemed to be slowing.
He slumped almost as fully as Dean had. Catching himself before collapsing completely and pressing his hand to his face.
His relief was short lived. Dean was stable which left him free to consider what might have happened beyond the small bathroom they were cramped into.
Forcing his mind to practical matters he cleaned Dean's leg again. The holy water ran clear and smooth. Then Mac wrapped the wound before pulling the boy up and staggering back to his bed with him. He had just finished getting the teen comfortably settled, blankets tucked in, when he heard the phone ring.
Mac paused, needing to know but terrified of what the news might be.
Then he headed to answer the line in the other room.
SPNBROAU
NOW: The Woods
John burst into the clearing like an angry bear. He roughly grabbed the Succarath corpse and rolled it aside with nothing more than a look of abhorrence.
"Junior!" He ran a surprisingly soft hand over the boy's head, brushing aside the hair to see his face clearly.
Caleb wasn't moving.
They deliberately hadn't let Reaves know John would be there, though he thought Caleb had suspected it. After all, this thing had hurt Dean and was about to go 'mente a mente' with his protégé. No way in Hell, John was sitting this one out.
"Come on private," he gripped the boy's shoulder. There was nothing, not a flutter.
"John?" Bobby appeared beside him.
"Move that thing and start clean-up, we need to get him out of here." John had pressed his fingers to the psychic's neck.
Bobby didn't hesitate. He turned to Joshua.
"Sorry Slick, time to get dirty."
"Reaves?" Josh asked, his eyes on the still form.
"He has a pulse," John said. "Get moving."
He pulled out the brick that Mac had insisted was a phone and started dialling the number for the hotel. He put the thing to his ear sceptically. Nothing was happening.
"Fucking thing," he mumbled, shaking the phone as if that might make it work.
Joshua tutted, came over, and took the phone from John. He hit the 'call' button, and passed it back. John could now hear the line ringing. He turned his attention back to Caleb without so much as a gratitude smile for Sawyer.
"Dr Ames."
John could hear the fear in the usually stoic man's voice.
"Caleb's alive," he said first. "But he's unconscious. Dean?"
"It was rough going there for a while but he's stable now. The wound isn't reacting to holy water anymore. He's not awake but his vitals are stabilizing. How long has Caleb been out?"
"Just a few minutes. He killed the Succarath then collapsed. Bobby and Sawyer are clearing the area."
"If Caleb doesn't regain consciousness, take him straight to the hospital. I can meet you there." There was a pause. "I'm serious John, you take him to the hospital, you hear me?"
"I hear you. I'll call again when we get moving."
He hit a button and the line went dead.
SPNBROAU
NOW: The Marriott
After John hung up, Mac had gone back to Dean. The boy was still out but his pulse was steady and his temperature was down. He picked up the phone by the bed and dialled the familiar number.
"Jim? It's me."
…
Despite his promise, John didn't call again. The next Mackland knew of him, he and Bobby were carrying Mac's son through the door.
"What the hell? I told you …"
"He's been in and out. The physical damage seems minimal."
"I must have missed you getting that medical degree."
Mackland led the way to the other queen bed in the room Dean was in. Caleb grunted slightly as they set him down, his eyes fluttering but not opening.
"Is anyone else injured?" Mac asked as he checked his son's vitals.
"We're fine. Caleb has some bruising and his left arm is swollen. I think the Succarath may have stomped on it during the battle, but the bone seems to be sound."
Mac made an indistinct sound and continued his examination. He knew John cared about Caleb, he also knew it would take less than the combination of Caleb insisting he not be taken to his least favourite destination, John's own disinclination to risk supernatural injuries being inspected by regular doctors, and the fact that Dean was at the hotel, for the Knight to forgo the hospital.
John's 'in and out' was not what Mac would call conscious. Sure, Caleb came around enough to mumble worried queries about his best friend and try to pull away from attempts to treat him, but he was a long way from compos mentis. When his temperature continued to rise, Mac insisted they were going to the hospital. Dean's temperature was up again too. Though not as high as Caleb's, the fact that it kept going up and down, with Dean going from sweating to shivering and back again, had Mac deciding to take in both boys.
By the time they reached the hospital, Caleb's breathing was shallow and rapid, he was too discombobulated to even dispute being taken to hospital, and his pupils were dilated.
The only moment of doubt Mac had was when his son, jerking in seizure, was pushed away from him on a gurney and he was relegated to the 'relatives' section of the hospital. He wasn't sure if he wanted to punch the sympathetic nurse barring his way or the stoic ex-Marine standing next to him. But Mackland Ames often found negotiation more productive than violence. After a short conversation with the Chief of Staff he was allowed to be involved in Dean's care. It allowed him access to Caleb's test results and notes, even if he was not consulted on the treatment plan and his son was off limits for anything more than brief visits.
The staff managed to get Caleb's temperature down slightly which prevented further seizures, and provided oxygen to help with the breathing, but the fever continued to fight back against the medications making his body a battlefield.
A battlefield that Corporal Winchester took charge of when the hospital-hating psychic was nearly restrained after striking a doctor in a mad thrash to escape a cannula. Something about the large presence and commanding tone, and perhaps the bleeding nose of the doctor, had the medical staff obeying the orders to get out and fetch Dr Ames immediately.
By the time Mac arrived, John had calmed Caleb somewhat, though the young man was still staring around suspiciously and jumpy at any sound.
"Dad, get me out of here, please," he begged. His ultra-independent son asked him for so little, it killed Mackland that the few times he did ask, it seemed he always had to deny him.
"Soon Son, let the doctors patch you up a little, then we'll head to Kentucky, Jim's pantry hasn't been raided in a while, it's bound to be getting over stocked."
"Deuce?"
"Yes, Dean too," Mac assured gently, inserting the cannula and attaching the saline.
"No," Caleb shook his head, trying to get his thoughts to line up. "He's okay?"
He had asked the same thing every time he'd come close to consciousness, never seeming to remember he'd asked before. John and Mac shared a look but Mac answered smoothly, as if it was the first time.
"He's fine. His white blood cell count was low but is coming back up. He has a slight fever, nothing as bad as yours, they're keeping him cool and hydrated. He'll probably be discharged tomorrow." The plea in his son's eyes was easy to read. "It might be a couple of days for you." Mac held up a hand to forestall the complaint he could see coming. "Dean's temperature went down then went up again, we need to make sure yours doesn't do the same."
"And I want no more 'fish-on-dry-land' impressions," John added, his voice gruff, his eyes concerned.
Caleb frowned but didn't argue further. Not only was it two against one, he knew there was no way his dad was letting him out following a seizure, at least not until he'd had a scan.
Seeing his patient appeared calm, Caleb's doctor, tape across his nose, entered cautiously. Caleb made no attempt to apologise but didn't meet the young man's eye. John and Mac moved to the hall-way, staying near the door where they could keep an eye.
"How is Dean?" John asked. Mac had been with Dean when Caleb had panicked.
"He's resting. He seems okay. I'll know more when he wakes up but I believe the danger has passed."
John nodded. He'd believe that when Dean was back to running around and driving him insane.
SPNBROAU
AN: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, all comments welcome. More soon (and I'll try not to be late I promise). Much love to everyone, I hope you are all well xx