People seek death a lot of ways.
Stupidly. Arrogance.
"Gee look, Damien," Dean fired out snidely. "Nate's been shopping at 'Goons-R-Us'."
Others?
By not knowing when to keep their fucking mouth shut.
"And he's been shopping in the psychic section too." Caleb grumbled as a subtle four-eleven. He shifted some of Dean's weight back to the younger hunter. He needed to be able to launch in to a fighting stance if he had too. With the visible weaponry Zack and the other thugs were wearing, if things went south Caleb knew if it came down to hand-to-hand he didn't have a chance.
"Wonderful." Dean muttered under his breath.
"Now shut up and smile sweetly at the mad man. Or I'm gonna smack you," Caleb replied with fake cheer.
"Welcome." Nate smiled at them. "You don't disappoint. I knew you'd find your way."
"Oh, yeah? Your hospitality sucks," Dean complained loudly.
"Deuce…" Caleb warned. "Rein it in before you get us both killed."
Dean ignored him and continued, "And look at me, invited to the prom without my bucket of pig's blood."
Caleb stared.
Fuck.
Was this part of Dean's plan?
Caleb wanted Nate dead because Nate scared the shit out him. He was dangerous and unstable.
Dean on the other hand?
Deuce was the more calculating of the two of them. By the Brotherhood's rules and code of honor they couldn't kill Nate. That duty was given to another. The only way they could kill him was if it was a clear case of self defense. And Deuce was matter-of-fact enough to make sure it was an obvious case of self-preservation. It made a frightening amount of sense. Dean had already declared the right of self defense. Nate attacked them now, and they killed him. No questions. It would protect Jim and Caleb from any Brotherhood backlashes.
But man…
Pre-meditated self-defense was sub-zero cold even for Deuce.
Who the hell was he kidding?
No it wasn't.
Deuce could be chilling, strategically, psychopathic that way. In his mind, if it was worth fighting and dying for, it was worth fighting dirty for. If you went after what Dean considered one of his. He'd crush you like a cockroach. It was just good business.
Right then Dean's knees buckled. Caleb slid down with him to ease Dean's fall a little.
That's when Caleb felt it.
Dean dropped something in to the back of his boot.
Sneaky.
Yup, looks like MacGyver had pulled a plan out of his ass after all.
For a moment Caleb thought Nate might have caught a whiff of what they were up too when he stepped forward and slowly circled them. That icy feeling around Caleb's shoulders shot right to a heavy ball of dread in the pit of his stomach.
Repeat this mantra…
Shield like hell. Pray. Shield like hell. Pray again.
Nate reached out and caught Dean's chin.
"It's a pity, Dean Winchester." Nate stated wishfully. "Jude would have taken one look at you and wept in joy. You are so bright. Like the full moon on a dark winter night. I can hardly stand to look straight at you. I could drink up your energy all day. Life giving rains and healing waters. Blues, greens, and silvers. Jude was probably the only one of us that could have passably trained you. Goes to show what a miserable failure Missouri is as an Advisor. She hasn't even taught you how to adequately shield yourself."
Dean stiffened. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Nate let go of Dean's chin, threw his head back, and laughed. "Continue to fool yourself. Ying and Yang, life and death, like the push and pull of the moon on the oceans tides. The things Jude could have taught you."
Dean shook his head. Caleb steadied him as the younger hunter almost went tumbling. "I don't know what glue you've been sniffing. I am not a psychic."
"Ah, the Brotherhood's prejudice sprouts again," Nate replied smoothly. "No you are not psychic. You, Decanus, are something completely wonderfully different. The key I needed."
"You are nuts."
"Am I?" Nate stated and stepped back. His words slithered off of Caleb's skin like some evil oily thing. "Is the idea of being psychic that appalling to you? When I'm done, if you survive, you will make a breathtakingly powerful empath."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean 'make an empath'? You can't make an empathy. It's impossible. Either you're born with it or not."
Nate smiled. "You'll see. With the healing powers of the staff anything is possible."
"What?" Dean blinked. "Dude, I can't even keep my own head straight. I see every day how Damien struggles to keep from drowning in other people. I'm not that strong. I don't need my brain broke open and scrambled with anyone else's. Thanks, but no thanks."
"He's scared of you." Nate inched in to Caleb's personal space. It made Caleb's skin crawl. "He's your best friend and like all the other Norms frightened of your power."
"Is that all Sal was to you?" Caleb demanded. "A Norm? Something easily deposed of?"
"Of course, "Nate shrugged. "Sacrifices must be made. People like us are the next step forward, Caleb. We are the future. They aren't. The Norms not only can't accept that, they try to hobble us with their morals. Norms are nothing. They hold us back from what we can truly become."
"Sacrifice?" Dean repeated coldly. "Strike three, Nate. Trying to kill Jim pissed me off but by the Right of Vidar, it's by law, between the two of you. I can't interfere. Strike one was attacking Damien. Strike two was mind-wiping Zack. Killing Sal was strike three. When you took that silver ring you took an oath. You swore to use your skills and talents to protect people weaker than yourself. Instead you have betrayed everything that ring on your finger stood for."
Nate studied Dean carefully. "You are no Guardian." Nate's unspoken word was: Yet. "You will not kill me this night, Decanus."
Dean smiled. It was very unpleasant. It was not a smile Caleb ever wanted directed at him. It promised oh-so nasty things to come. "Maybe. There will be other nights."
Oh yeah…
Nate was completely freaking off his rocker.
Caleb laughed humorlessly, because Nate wasn't frightened and he should be.
He really fucking should be.
"Am I crazy Caleb?" Nate whispered softly. "Don't you ever get tired of hiding your whole life behind walls? Never being able to reach out for their sake?"
"Get out of my head," Caleb growled.
"Her name was Rachel." Nate purred evilly. "And you loved her. How wonderful. Holding her in your arms, she was the first person that ever tempted you to simply let go and let your shields drop. Lured you in to even thinking about what love is meant to be for us: gestalt. To become two perfect mirrors reflecting back everything we are at each other."
Caleb grabbed his head. "Stop it."
"Leave him alone!" Dean snarled.
Nate ignored Dean and continued. "But you were too frightened to embrace that weren't you? So you broke her heart and drove her off instead."
"Yes, I ran away. Happy now?" Caleb whispered softly. Then he looked Nate in the eye. He meant every word of the next sentence. "NOW GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
Nate shot Caleb a look of pity. "Fear not, Hound. After I'm done, people like us will never have to hide again."
Dean narrowed his eyes again. "Oh, really? And how do you propose that?"
Nate waved the question off casually and went back to stand by the pool. "Why with your help, Decanus."
Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"
"It's very simple," Nate informed him as he dipped his hand into the pool of water. "You will show me where the Staff of Isis is hidden or the young Knight is going to suffer for your stubbornness." Nate made a quick flick of his other wrist and Caleb was jerked across the room.
"Deuce don't …"
"Have you ever seen what a little creativity and a car battery can do? I'm told the resulting third degree burns can be horrifying." Nate smiled coldly at Dean. Caleb had seen warmer smiles on serial killers. "I'm sure you can testify the smell of cooked flesh is one someone never quite gets over. Not after what happened to your mother."
Deuce lost all color. His green eyes were huge. Caleb could feel the revulsion that came off his friend in waves. Under that was a choking horror of anyone that saw torture as a tool to make a point. That person didn't have rules. It told them Nate didn't have lines he wouldn't cross.
Dean suddenly looked very young. "You wouldn't."
"It would be a shame." Nate dipped his hand in to the fountain again. "Our young Knight with a little reprogramming would be a fine addition to my cause. On the other hand, sacrifices must be made."
"Fuck you. You are NOT dry cleaning my brain, Asshole," Caleb growled as he fought against the invisible restraints that held him.
"It would be best if you kept quiet, Hound." Nate jerked his head this time and Caleb felt himself being forced face down on to the floor. "Save your friend a lot of pain and tell me what I need to know."
Nate gestured again and Caleb felt his arms and legs suddenly held down by Nate's group of armed goons. One thug pulled out something that glowed red hot. It hadn't made contact yet but Caleb could feel the heat on his back already. It only made Caleb struggle harder.
Dean looked from Nate to Caleb. The younger hunter looked ill. "I don't know. I swear. Just don't hurt him."
Caleb felt something searing hot touch his left shoulder. His flesh made a sickening sizzling sound only seconds before the agony blazed up his nervous system. Caleb screamed. There was no way to bottle it.
It was Nate's turn to smile. "I don't believe you. Now tell me where the Staff of Isis is hidden. Show me what the Muninn has shown you."
It was the melody that pulled Caleb back to consciousness.
Caleb recognized it.
It was that strange melody Dean had been hymning in his hospital room. Oddly enough it wasn't creepy anymore. Now it seemed more yearning and haunting. Caleb wondered if it was a song Merlin sung to the very first Triad and had been passed down for generations. Merlin had been a bard. He had by legend been trained by the legendary Taliesin himself. Music had been the old magician's first love before destiny had called him to other things. The tune wove an eternal spell of apple blossoms floating in the winds. It sang of family, safety, security, and healing.
It drew you in and called you home.
Deuce really did have a beautiful voice when he wasn't goofing off.
It was clean and pure, like spring water.
Caleb remembered how it always made Sammy jealous.
Some part of him knew he should be hurting. Knew he should be in agony. And the fact his shoulder didn't hurt meant very bad things. It meant third degree burns that wouldn't heal. Caleb knew if the burn was too deep, skin grafts wouldn't work. If the resulting infection didn't kill him, he would lose his left arm. Nate didn't want to kill him. The simple fact was Nate really didn't care if Caleb lived or died. Nate was more aiming to nail his point home to Dean, or possibly Jim, by maiming Caleb permanently.
Oh yeah…
He was really starting to hate Old Nate's guts.
Caleb must have shifted or groaned because the singing stopped and the arms that held Caleb tightened around him. He didn't have the energy to open his eyes, so he dropped his shields and reached out gently for Dean's mind. He needed to know if Deuce was okay.
"Damien?" Dean's consciousness flooded in to his like a tidal wave. There was some odd spark of power to it that Caleb could feel. One inherent command flowed in to Caleb's mind: Live.
Live. Fight. Survive. Fight. Live. Live. Live.
The mantra that screamed inside Caleb's head over and over again wasn't quiet sane.
That scared Caleb.
It made him open his eyes.
His eyes met a set of tear-filled jade ones.
Yup. Deuce really was a big tough psychopath at times.
Looking into his best friends green eyes, he knew how bad it really was.
Caleb might survive but his left arm and shoulder were definitely goners.
To make it even worse Dean's fever had spiked dangerously. Caleb could tell with one look. His eyes were glossy. His face was flushed. His best friend was semi-delusional and not firing on all cylinders. He was positively not lucid.
Dean ran a hand through his hair. Caleb's concern inched up a notch as he noted how hot his friend was. "Don't worry Damien. I'll fix it. I promise. I'll fix it."
The not rational chant in Caleb's head suddenly went to: Fix. Heal. Fix.
This was so not good.
"This, however entertaining, is becoming much too drawn out for my taste." Caleb managed to turn his head ever so slightly and Nate came in to view. A flash of hate speared right through Caleb. In the dim light Nate looked like the monster he really was. "This is getting us nowhere. We're going to have to do this the hard way. Take him."
Caleb grabbed weakly for Dean when he realized who Nate's goons were heading for. "No! You'll kill him." It wasn't enough. Caleb was too weak to fight them and to hold on. The thugs grabbed Dean, forcefully separated them and dragged Dean to his feet. On of the goons caught Dean as he drunkenly stumbled.
"Possibly," Nate shrugged. "Dean does have formidable natural barriers. It may take time and more energy than I wanted to extend, but I and my men will drill through them."
Caleb wanted to throw up.
No. No. No.
This was going to be a psychic gang rape.
No way in hell in his condition would Dean survive the ordeal.
Caleb did the only thing he could do.
He gathered his powers and hurled them at Nate.
He pictured a lightening, fire in its purest, deadliest form.
Nate slapped up his shields. "Impressive, Hound. But not enough."
Nate lashed out at Dean.
Dean grabbed his head and screamed.
The structure rumbled. The crystals over their heads started to glow brighter.
A power sparked.
What the hell?
This new energy didn't fight back. Like water, like the tide, it simply absorbed Nate's attack.
"Hear my call. Come to me." Dean laughed madly. Then he commanded very softly to something only his delirious mind could see. "Heal. Then kill them."
Caleb felt something warm and wet rise up under him from the floor. When he tried to roll away from whatever it was the substance held him firmly in place. It felt like a warm bath. It coated and rolled into his damaged left shoulder like a healing balm.
One of Nate's rent-a-goons suddenly started screaming. He grabbed his leg. What looked like some metallic substance had snaked out like a rope from between the stones on the floor and around his leg. Where it met human tissue the tissue sizzled and dissolved like flesh meeting acid. His leg gave way and suddenly he was on the floor. A tide of silver rose up and enveloped him.
The guy fought and screamed but the silver was like sticky tar.
Then he melted in to a sickening, mess of chunky liquid gore.