Part 3

"It is required of every man," the ghost returned, "that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death." -A Christmas Carol

Caleb didn't know how long he languished, feeling nothing and unaware but not restful. He was exhausted and wondered how long it would take for him to meet his demise by poison or the demon.

He felt himself being lifted in a sitting position as if he was a rag doll. He heard the heavy breathing. "Someone put the porn channel on?"

"Do those witticisms really help?"

The buzzing in Reaves's head was worse, forcing him to open his eyes or else his forehead would explode. There was a tall figure, robed in brown homespun; yellow eyes were the only part humanizing the black abyss of a face. "So are you trying for the look of the Emperor or the Jawas? Either way it's not working for you."

The demon stood tall over him, making Caleb feel insignificant. His fetid breath came out in a smoky haze. "Your death will break them all."

Caleb looked straight into the demon's eyes and hoped he didn't flinch. His body was quivering with exertion. "You give me too much credit."

"John, Jim, Caleb, all mine." The demon moved to the four corners of the room as he said each of the names before returning again. "The ones that remain will scatter in bereavement. I will remain and sow my seed."

Reaves knew the demon was speaking about the biblical metaphor in which the devil planted seeds that would grow until the end of days when angels would be sent out to get rid of the evil. "High opinion of yourself." Caleb instinctively wanted to push at the brown cloaked form, but was afraid it would be like grasping at air. Instead he lamely pointed to emphasize his comment. "And I think the story goes that you will be smited or smoot, whatever it is, it won't be pretty."

"You have failed, lowly Knight."

The insult made Caleb force himself to stand. He teetered on his feet, knowing he should be lying horizontal. He shivered as the sweet dripped down his spine. He wanted to throw himself at the demon, but the demon had disappeared. He glanced around the room, turning and finding nothing. He was about to collapse back on the bed to finally rest in peace, but he was interrupted.

Reaves heard something in the hallway. The lights dimmed in his room then came on to full brightness. It was a sign of approaching evil. There was a flickering from the table lamp, and then the room descended into complete blackness. The door to his motel room opened and then slammed shut.

The psychic was too weak to find a weapon to defend himself. He would face the demon with his bare hands. Slowly the psychic ambled to the entry to find someone hunched over on their knees, panting. His hands were splayed against the door.

Caleb bent down, not wanting to spook the man. The quivering mass was not the demon of that he was positive. There was a forceful thump on the door and the man looked up.

Caleb gasped, recognizing the person kneeling before him.

"You have not aged well." The demon reappeared on the other side of the man.

Reaves didn’t have a retort. There he was older, face lined with despair. Strands of gray sharply accented his dark hair. He looked ragged, worried and forlorn. The older Caleb went into his leather jacket pocket with his trembling left hand and pulled out a clear plastic bag filled with a white substance. He opened it with his teeth and made a line at the door. He kept his right hand clenched in a fist.

"Do you really think that will stop the evil behind that door?" The demon knelt down so he was talking into the ear of the older psychic. The hooded figure looked up to the present Caleb. "Maybe a hellhound? A zombie or a possessed being? This," he gestured to the salt, "won't stop me."

There was another thump at the door, and the salt line shook becoming thinner. Caleb wondered what brought him to this worn out condition. He looked used up, spent and weakened. This was not the way he thought he would go out. It wasn't that he had a death wish, but he assumed he would die in a battle, never cowering in fear. Caleb wiped the sweat beading on his forehead. He never thought his death would be brought about by poison.

The older hunter bit his lip in uncertainty, and then opened his right hand. There shining through the darkened room were five silver rings.

Caleb stepped back, and would have fallen if the wall was not there to support him. "No." He knew what those rings represented.

The future Reaves folded over, his head practically touched the floor. The demon moved his arm so as to stroke the dejected older hunter's back. "You are all alone. No one is left. No father, no friends and no brothers in arms."

The psychic felt overwhelmed by despair. He had failed Dean and Sam who had counted on him. He had made them promises. Caleb always believed he was a witness to the Winchester saga. He was there to help them, perhaps be there at the final battle or maybe not. But that was why his promises to them were so important because they were the center of it all.

Mac, his own strong father was gone along with Jim and John. He had gotten the tattoo of the dragon to remind him of his duty, remind of where he came from and who made him. He wondered if they had been senseless deaths or caused by the supernatural. They had all died, and he unable to protect them. He had been a failure.

There were times in his life when fear would invade him, weaving its way through all his thoughts. He discovered he could physically push it out of his mind with grueling training sessions. Mac had insisted, without any resistance from Caleb, that his son involve himself in the martial arts. The focus karate required kept him from being consumed. His talents also proved to be a great strength with the hunt and within The Brotherhood.

In this future he was probably the last in The Brotherhood, the rest of the hunters having gone into hiding if the Triad had been destroyed. They hadn’t prepared another generation. It would end; end because he had failed in his duty, his quest. The Knight no more.

However, in this present time he had not failed. Yes, he was poisoned, but there was still some life left in him. Perhaps Jim had wanted to remind him he had to keep living, fighting against the evil because once he gave in, he was lost. Caleb stepped forward, finding courage in his darkest moment in his friends, those passed and those that remained. "Demons lie."

"Lie?" The demon hissed. The demon seemed to grow in anger before shrinking down to an overbearing height. "That seems to be a very popular statement. But, I do not lie. The truth is there to see. And I see time running out for you."

There was another hard knock at the door, and the aged Reaves flinched. Caleb saw the line thin out. He bent down so he was close to his older twin's ear. "Think, think," he willed the other Caleb. The present day Reaves was not going to falter even if it took his dying breath.

The demon bent down, talking into the older hunter's other ear. It was an enticing whisper. "You lose. I win."

The older hunter looked over his shoulder at the demon. Caleb wondered if he could see him or sense him.

"Don't listen to him! You can do this!" Reaves yelled to get his aged twin's attention once more. He tried to shake him, but his hand disappeared. Touch was not possible. "Remember what Walt Whitman said," he implored his defeated alter ego.

"The Earth be spanned, lands be welded together.” The future Reaves muttered clearly. Caleb smiled, bridges had always been important to the psychic. Perhaps they could bridge the gap between the present and the future.

"You lose. I win." The demon repeated again.

"Shut up! You suck!" He yelled at the demon, then noticed the older hunter had covered his head with his hands in confusion. Caleb tried to calm down and remove the panic from his voice. "Not you, me, whatever."

The aged Reaves pulled his hands down and wiped his face. The salt line was becoming thinner. Whatever was on the other side of the door wanted in.

"That's right. Ignore what's behind door number three." Reaves pondered the problem, trying to come up with a solution to help them both. There was another loud bang against the door causing a hairline crack to form. "Umm, okay, think faster, buddy."

The line was dangerously fine. Caleb didn't dare even breathe on it, scared of the lack of protection. The future Reaves seemed to have the same reaction. But there was a gleam in his amber eyes, and Caleb knew an idea was brewing, a chance at life.

The future Caleb placed the rings in a row up against the salt. He seemed unsure.

"You will fail!" The demon said forcefully.

"Do it! Do it!" Caleb tried to override the demon. They had nothing to lose, the salt line was gone.

The aged Reaves looked up as if wishing for a blessing and then placed his ringed hand down completing the row of silver bands.

For a moment there was silence. Then a glow from one ring caught on to the next and then to its neighbor. A thick bright line formed, like a laser beam. It continued to grow. Caleb could no longer make out his future self. The rings had created a barrier, which basked the door in white energy.

The demon howled as the light became brighter. Caleb looked away as they were all enveloped. He screamed as the blinding light penetrated his being, making him feel like he was breaking apart and being absorbed by the light.

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