Living With The Beast

Summary: Tag to the end of the movie. Caleb is no longer the beast, but he still carries a lot of guilt
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the movie; references to violence and murder and canonical character death; self-destructive behaviour
Pairing: Rachel/Caleb

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His son was sleeping when Caleb finally let himself into the cabin. He didn’t turn the light on. His skinwalker heritage might have been destroyed, but some of the advantages had been left behind, such as heightened senses.

He’d gladly trade those for the people he’d killed. The people he’d slaughtered. He’d give everything to bring Jonas back; to restore his niece to the innocent, carefree woman she’d been before.

He closed the door behind him. The click of the latch was soft, but his wife jerked upright in bed, aiming her gun between his eyes without even needing to turn the light on.

He held his hands out and whispered, “It’s me.”

She held the gun trained on him for a few more moments. Long enough for him to wonder if she’d shoot him anyway. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Couldn’t blame her if she did.

If it would bring back all those he’d killed, he’d pull the trigger himself.

Rachel reached out and switched the lamp on, causing light to flood the room, before placing her gun on the bedside table.

In the other bed, Timothy stirred, opening his eyes and blinking in the sudden brightness. “Mom? Dad?” His voice was heavy. Slurred by sleep.

She reached over and placed her hand on their son’s arm, all without taking her eyes from Caleb. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead of obeying, Timothy’s eyes went to Caleb and then grew wide. “You’re hurt.” His gaze slid to Rachel. “Dad’s hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” Caleb replied. A few cuts and bruises, a split lip and a wrenched arm. And his eye was sore. He hadn’t looked at his reflection, but it wouldn’t surprise him if he had a black eye. He needed the pain. He welcomed the pain. It was no less than what he deserved. It wasn’t anything even close to what he deserved.

Timothy shook off his mother’s arm and clambered out of bed. He walked over to Caleb and wrapped his arms around his father’s waist, hugging on tight and pressing his face into Caleb’s stomach.

Closing his eyes, Caleb hugged his son tight in return. He wanted to say he was sorry again. He wanted to ask Timothy for forgiveness, but how could a father apologise to his son for trying to kill him? It was one of the worst crimes that could ever be committed. Of course, he’d done a lot worse to a whole lot more people.

Trying not to think about how little he deserved this, Caleb crouched down and wrapped his arms around Timothy. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Dad.” Timothy hugged him just as tight in return.

Caleb held his son for a few more moments before leading him over to the bed and pulling back the blankets. “It’s time to sleep now. We’ve got some long days ahead of us.”

“I love you, Dad,” Timothy whispered, climbing into bed, holding onto Caleb’s hand. He closed his eyes and slipped into sleep quickly.

Caleb closed his eyes and wondered if he would ever feel worthy of his son’s love. He gripped Timothy’s hand a bit tighter and bowed his head.

After a few moments, his wife rested her hand on his shoulder and spoke in a low voice. “Come through to the bathroom. I’ll take care of those injuries.”

“I don’t need any help.” He shifted, holding back his wince as the movement pulled on his bruises. “I just need to stay with him for a while. Please,” he added, his voice dropping lower as the heavy mantle of guilt settled over him once more.

Rachel’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “You need to let me help you.”

“No.” His response was given automatically. He gripped Timothy’s hand tighter; felt Rachel’s hand leave his shoulder and allowed his body to relax.

And then she smacked his backside.

Caleb jumped, half-turning to look at her with wide eyes. She hadn’t hit very hard and the protection of his pants meant that the swat had surprised rather than stung. “Rachel….”

She leaned forward, placing her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance, and looked into his eyes. “Do you need pain? Or do you need punishment?”

He swallowed hard. Dropped his gaze to the floor as he knelt at her feet. As a skinwalker, he could have rolled over to show his belly, or bare his throat, to give her his submission.

But he was a man now. Just a man. And he gave her control of him as a man, kneeling at her feet and waiting for her to decide what would happen next.

Her hands slid down his shoulders, gripping his upper arms and then his hands. “Look at me.”

He raised his eyes to meet hers, making himself look into her face. His hand released his son’s as he turned his entire focus onto his wife. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s not enough, I know it’s not enough, but I am. Truly.” He lowered his eyes, not able to keep eye contact with her, and stared at her hands holding onto his.

The blood that stained him wasn’t visible, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

She didn’t speak. Instead, she tugged gently at his hand. Responding to the unspoken demand, he rose to his feet and followed her through to the bathroom.

Neither of them spoke as she guided him into the room and closed the door behind them. She didn’t let go of his hands and the touch comforted him more than he thought it had a right to.

She squeezed his hands, looked into his eyes and said softly, “Take off your belt. Give it to me.”

He took in a slow, deep breath and let go of her hands. He reached for his waist and undid his belt, pulling it through the loops and doubling it over before he held it out to her.

She took the belt from him and looked into his eyes before saying, “Bend over the bath.”

He didn’t protest. Didn’t argue. Didn’t try to change her mind. Instead, he moved over to the white bath and knelt down. He leaned forward, positioning himself over it, placing his hands on the enamel surface. The position drew his backside taut and left him vulnerable to whatever she was going to do. He took a deep breath and focused on a spot in front of his eyes.

She rested her hand on his lower back and he heard the belt as it whistled through the air, then his body jerked as the leather impacted his bottom. He sucked in a sharp breath as a second stroke landed just below the first and then clenched his hands into fists as the third stroke landed.

After a full half dozen strikes, Caleb began breathing heavily. He’d been hurt more and worse in the past, but this wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t fists plowing into him while he fought back only because he couldn’t take his son’s father from him again. He was submitting to his wife. Letting her cause him pain. Letting her punish him.

Another half dozen strokes drew tears to his eyes and he slumped forward. The belting hurt, but he welcomed the pain. Accepted it as his due; knew he deserved worse. But as it continued and he lost count of the amount of strokes she’d given him, his body began shifting in reaction to the painful strikes. Unconsciously, he was attempting to get away from the punishment.

As soon as he realised, he forced himself to remain in place, bent over, even as his whole body shook from the burning stripes.

When she stopped, he was shocked to realise the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He’d begun sobbing without realising it, his tears soaking the white bathtub he knelt over.

And then her hands were on him, soft and gentle in stark contrast to the punishing blows from the belt. She turned his face towards her; kissed his lips gently and then his damp cheeks. Wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

He didn’t know how long he lay in her arms for. Certainly, it was long enough for the raging fire to cool in his backside. Long enough for his tears to dry. Finally, he turned his head to nuzzle into her neck and to whisper against her soft skin, “Thank you.”

“You can’t risk taking yourself away from us,” she murmured in return. “No more fights, Caleb. Please? When it gets too much to handle….”

“I’ll turn to you. I promise.” He dropped his head to her shoulder; clung to her tightly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She ran her hands down his back, then up under his shirt, touching bare skin. “Will you let me treat your injuries now?”

“Just…let me stay like this for a few moments before you do?” he asked quietly. There was something comforting about being held by his wife; about basking in the warmth of her embrace and love. “I wish I could bring them all back.” He couldn’t help the note of pain in his voice.

“I know. But you can honour their memory,” she murmured.

He breathed in deep and closed his eyes, letting her touch and closeness comfort him. He could never make up for all the evil he’d done…but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to do the right thing.

The End