What if Caleb had made a different choice in the Barn? What if Chase had honored it? What if Caleb had written a last letter to Sarah? What if...?
The Letter
The rotting wooden beams of Putnam Barn creaked and groaned as yet another wave of energy collided with the shuddering support beam. Above it, jagged bolts of lightning tore uneven holes in the night sky, whitewashing it. Booming thunder shook the earth and angry storm clouds boiled above. Tendrils of fire licked greedily at the walls and gave off an orange glow in all the darkness, and still the rain battered the already leaking roof. Beneath it, two warlocks battled for dominance.
Chase Collins' obsidian eyes glinted with a mad satisfaction as he sent his opponent flying across the barn and crashing into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch. Caleb Danvers slid to the ground, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Chase smirked and sauntered over to his crumpled form on the ground, trembling with effort to stand.
"What's the matter, tough guy?" crooned Chase as he stood over him. Growling, his hand shot out and grabbed Caleb's throat. "Cat got your tongue?" Grinning with sick pleasure, Chase tightened his grip and hauled Caleb to his feet, relishing the gasping breaths that shook his battered frame and the desperate hands that clawed at his own. A golden glint flashed across Chase's eyes and menacingly, his grip tightened even more. "What was that, Caleb? Can't seem to understand you," he mocked, turning one ear as if to hear better. "You gotta speak up a little." Laughing, Chase threw the weakened form to the ground and kicked him once in the stomach. Caleb bit down hard on his own wrist, trying to muffle the strangled cry. Chase didn't deserve the satisfaction.
"Pitiful," he sneered, "And this is what the legendary Covenant's leader is reduced to? You disgust me." Throwing one last dirty glance at Caleb's direction, Chase picked his way through the rubble to the other end of the barn where a ghostly pale girl floated in midair, surrounded by the growing flames. Chase smirked and brushed Sarah's lower lip with his fingertips, making sure Caleb could see everything.
"Don't touch her," came the choked threat as Caleb struggled once more to stand.
"Oh yes? And if I do? What is big, bad Caleb going to do to me, huh?" Chase's hand traveled swiftly to caress Sarah's throat and softly grazing her collarbone, then deliberately trailing his fingertips down the length of her torso. A feral growl escaped Caleb's lips and staggering, he stood, eyes turning a dangerous shade of black.
"Do not. Touch. Sarah." Caleb ground out as he started to walk towards them.
"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, buddy. We've got some problems to straighten out."
"Problems my ass," growled Caleb as his pace quickened.
"If you want to watch her die, then by all means, keep walking." Caleb froze, and Chase grinned.
"Good by. Now hear me out." Chase walked to Sarah's other side, brushing her cheek as he went, smirking as he saw Caleb tremble with a barely contained anger.
"I have a business proposition for you, Mr. Danvers. Are you willing to hear it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Good point." Chase turned and Caleb noted with worry that his features were contorted into a mask of twisted satisfaction, laced with odium. "You have a choice, Caleb. Either you kill Sarah and allow me to do as I will with your friends and family, or you can will me your powers, in which case I'll leave your life alone and never come back again. The decision's yours."
Caleb blanched. His mind seemed to have shut down; he felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing. Chase's ultimatum echoed inside his head, mocking, ripping and tearing. Caleb felt as if someone was suffocating him, cold, clammy fingers squeezing an probing his insides. His mind was screaming, and his entire body shook. What kind of impossible choice was this?
My choice, thought Caleb silently. And then he knew.
His decision had been made.
He felt his senses slowly return to normal, with only an overwhelming tide of grief that washed over everything. The wave overflowed and formed two silent rivulets that meandered down his cheeks, dotting the ground below. Caleb's eyes finally lost their infinite blackness and the pair of piercing gray irises gazed upon the scene before him.
Realizing.
Understanding.
Accepting.
"Do you promise not to hurt her?" demanded Caleb quietly, meeting the other's eyes in an undeviating gaze. Chase's features from impatient frustration to a maniacal glee.
"Oh ho ho, what is this? Have we decided? Is Caleb finally going to will me his powers?"
"Do you. Promise. Not. To. Hurt. Her." repeated Caleb, his gray depths shining with the force of his decision.
"Of course. A promise is a promise. As long as you will me your powers, Sarah, the Covenant, and your family stay safe and sound."
Caleb's smile at that moment made even Chase give the smallest involuntary shudder. It was so, so….so broken. There was no more fight left in those eyes anymore. Never again would they turn into coal, never again would they blaze with a golden flame. No, those twin storms of dusky gray contained another emotion that overrode all others as he gazed upon her, making his way slowly to her side.
Longing.
A desperate, pained, all-consuming longing. For a last glimpse, for a waning hope, for a future that had been shattered into a million shards of tainted glass.
She was so beautiful. Her crown of golden locks shimmered and shone in the light of the fire, framing her visage in an ethereal halo. Her pale flawless skin gave off a soft glow that blended in with her evening gown. Tonight, she was his goddess, his vision, his Sarah.
If only for a little while.
"Caleb, man, you wanna speed up the whole emo bit here? I don't want to be rude, but," Chase smirked, "I don't got all day. If we're really going to do this, let's get this show on the road, shall we?" When Caleb looked back, Chase quickly averted his gaze, swallowing his uneasiness. How creepy, he thought.
"Just let me do one more thing," Caleb said quietly, still not tearing his gaze away from Sarah. "Just one more thing." A pencil and a piece of parchment appeared in Caleb's hands. With an unexpected steadiness, he began to write.
"My dearest Sarah…"
His pen halted to a stop, and a wave of hesitation swept over him. What could he write? How could words possibly manage to convey all that he wanted to apologize for, to tell her, to explain to her? But as the next words fell from the pen, he knew.
Caleb felt the sharp point of the pen on the paper as if it were his own skin. Every drop of ink that stained the paper was drawn from somewhere so deep it hurt. Caleb's vision blurred behind the veil of hot tears and individual crystalline drops slowly rolled down his cheeks. They dotted the paper below, blending with the ink, and tendrils of black spread cautiously as more hot tears fell. The pen tip was relentless as it dug hard and harder, drawing the blood necessary for each letter. He could feel his soul seeping out through the ink, forming words that only conveyed a fraction of the hurt that he felt inside. With every stroke, every sentence, he was breaking.
Slowly but surely, he was breaking.
Caleb gently put the pen down and folded the piece of paper with a knowing calm, then pressed his lips to it with a feeling so tender it hurt to watch. He turned to Chase.
"I'm ready."
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