“Christmas…is not an eternal event at all, but a piece of one’s HOME that one carries in one’s heart.” -Freya Stark

“So, what’s it going to be, Winchester?” Joshua lowered the hi-tech night-vision binoculars he had coincidentally stashed in his trunk and looked at his partner. “I have some ATF armbands, too.” He bobbed his eyebrows. “We could play good agent, bad agent.”

The younger hunter lowered his borrowed super spy gear. “Do you remember Waco? Ruby Ridge ring a bell?”

“It was merely a suggestion.” Sawyer shrugged. “I’m not use to these black bag jobs.”

Sam sighed, with a shake of his head. “Yet, you keep your car stocked with all these gadgets?”

“They’re tools of the trade, my young friend. Besides I like Ebay.”

The younger hunter snorted, remembering Joshua‘s penchant for off the wall tricks of the trade. “As long as they work better than that black dog locator?”

“It was the prototype for a satellite navigational system, I’ll have you know. It should have worked.”

“Well, I’ll stick to the tried and true.” Sam reached into the trunk of Joshua’s Mercedes and pulled out his duffel. “I spotted a part of the fence-line that has good cover and no muscle guarding it.”

“And you’re sure the lovely blond we saw wondering the compound is the Black Widow?”

Sam shot the older hunter a look. “Black Widow?”

Joshua grinned. “Code word. I thought it appropriate. After all, Caleb probably slept with her, or at least thought about it. They eat their conquests you know…the spiders that is.”

The younger hunter took what he needed from his pack, sliding his gun in the back of his jeans and stuffing the rest in the smaller bag at his feet. “I’m sure it’s her. We’ll get in, grab her and go.”

“And if we encounter any guards?”

“Then we deal with them.” Sam handed him a tazer. “Quietly.”

Joshua took the crude instrument and frowned. “Couldn’t you just use the thingy?” He gestured to his own head. “You know…subliminal mind control?”

Winchester’s brow creased in confusion. “Do you mean the Jedi mind trick?”

“Yes.” Joshua snapped his fingers. “That’s the one.”

“No.” Sam grabbed his things and started for the tree line that surrounded most of the cult’s ‘church’. “It doesn’t work that way.” Turn about was fair play. “Couldn’t you twitch your nose or something and charm them?”

Sawyer frowned. “You’re more like your brother than I remembered.”

Sam sighed, feeling slightly guilty for the comment. “Look, my abilities don’t work that way. I have death visions, alright?”

“Death visions?” Joshua shook his head. “You Winchesters as a lot have shitty luck, you know.” He observed conversationally as he pocketed the tazer and checked his own weapon before sliding it into a black mesh holster hidden beneath his jacket. “Have you ever experienced the overwhelming desire to throw yourself from a cliff?” He asked Sam as he followed him down the steep embankment.

Sam‘s remorse was quickly fleeing. “No, but Dean’s been known to get rid of bodies that way,” he replied, hoping to deter any further chit chat with the other hunter. He and Joshua didn’t seem to be meshing very well.

“He’s rather prickly about certain things, isn’t he?”

“No.” Sam bristled as he came to a stop by the fence. “He’s loyal.”

“And you’re insinuating that I’m not?” Joshua stopped beside the younger hunter.

Sam shrugged, dropping his bag and pulling out the night vision binoculars again. “Caleb seems to trust you.”

“You say that as if he has reason not to.”

The younger hunter scanned the area once more. Finding it clear, he bent down to retrieve the wire cutters he would use to gain them access into the fortress. “Caleb knows what he’s doing.”

“Yet for all his brilliance and expertise as a hunter he managed to get himself poisoned.”

Sam stood quickly, using his forearm to slam Joshua against the fence. “Shut up.”

“I was only stating simple facts.”

“Like the fact you and your buddies beat the shit out of Caleb when you found out he had visions?”

“So that’s it?” Joshua rubbed his chest, when Sam backed off with a shake of his head. “You’re holding a twenty-year-old grudge that had nothing to do with you. Besides it wasn‘t about the visions. It was more about the nature of his abilities.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Sam began snipping pieces of the chain-length, not wanting to listen to the other hunter‘s excuses. Partially because nothing would justify to him what had been done to Caleb, and partially because his own abilities were from questionable sources too. “Grab the pliers and start bending these back.”

Sawyer sighed. “The ground is muddy, and I didn‘t expect to be on all fours.” Another dour look from Winchester had him kneeling on the earth, complying with a grumble. “Who exactly put you in charge, by the way? I’m senior hunter on this job.”

The younger man ignored him, continuing to quickly make haste of the fence. Joshua picked up the pliers and began doing his part. “ For what it’s worth, I kept Ian and Fisher from killing him that day. A fact that wasn’t made easier by his pissy attitude and big mouth.”

Sam continued to clip the metal, barely acknowledging Sawyer with a sidelong glance. “So it was his fault?”

Joshua shrugged. “He knew what he was getting into when he entered The Brotherhood. Just as he knew what he was in for when he acknowledged his place as the future Knight.”

Sam stopped what he was doing. “What does that mean?”

Sawyer met the younger man’s earnest gaze. “I thought you said we didn’t have time for this?”

The younger hunter stubbornly held his ground for a long moment, wondering if Joshua would say more. Despite the clueless routine at times, Sawyer was anything but dumb. Like Bobby had implied, the man could be cunning, and although he rarely said the right thing at the right time, the things he did say were often loaded and usually had a hidden agenda.

“I’m sure Caleb will appreciate this bonding moment we’re having, even if it is at his expense.”

Sam rolled his eyes, not willing to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing he’d risen to the bait. “Whatever.”

“Full ride at Stanford, and that’s your best comeback.” Joshua should his head and clucked. “Sad. Very, very sad.”

“Come on,” Sam growled, snipping the last piece that would allow them passage. “The cabin’s to the east of us.”

The tree-line provided them with the cover Sam had hoped for, and luck found them at the back of the ‘black widow’s’ cabin without incident. “I think she’s alone,” Sam whispered, ducking back down beneath the window of the small cabin.

Sawyer looked at him in surprise. “Not even a roommate?”

“I don’t think so. She must rate pretty high up on the head guy’s list to score her own place.” Maybe she had even been rewarded for getting rid of Caleb.

“That’s disappointing.” Joshua sighed. “I never got to go to camp as a boy. I was at least hoping to interrupt a pillow fight or a singing and dancing ritual of some sort.”

“This isn’t a panty raid, you idiot,” Sam hissed, shining his flashlight in Sawyer’s face. “Focus. If we don’t do this right, we could have a whole commune on our hands. And Caleb could die.”

The last words seemed to sober the other hunter and Joshua gestured towards the door. “After you, Sam.”

“Next time, Dean’s coming with you,” he growled, shoving off the ground and staying crouched as he made his way towards the door.

“Oh goody,” the blond hunter exhaled loudly and followed in his friend’s wake. “Because we get along so much better.”

Sam crossed in front of the cabin’s entranceway and motioned for Joshua to stay on the other side. He figured the only thing they had going for them was the element of surprise and it wasn’t like the lovely Ann would be expecting anyone threatening to show up on her door.

The blond pulled his gun and gave Sam a nod that he was ready. Winchester stood, glancing over his shoulder before knocking on the door. There were other cabins nearby, but most were dark, with the lights of the main house casting only a faint glow into the center of the compound. It took only a moment for the door to swing open and the young blond woman from Sam’s vision to step out. “Micah?” She asked, pulling her robe tightly around her as she peered into the darkness.

“Sorry, but, no.” Joshua sprung from his hiding place, surprising Sam with his quickness. He grabbed the girl, efficiently spinning her around so one of his arms came across her delicate throat and his other hand cupped her mouth. “Butch and Sundance at your service,” he told her stealthily crossing back over the threshold, making room for his partner to come in and close the door.

Sam swung his weapon around the room, making sure his first sweep had been accurate. To his relief, they were alone.

Ann struggled against Joshua’s hold, but the blond hunter was undeterred. “What? You’re not glad to see us?” He looked at Sam. “And here I thought The Order of The Solar Temple was all welcoming. In fact, my friend and I thought you might invite us in, offer us a drink.” Sawyer tightened his grip across the woman’s neck, causing her struggles to increase, the muffled cries becoming more frantic. “Perhaps add a spot of poison for flavor when we‘re not looking.”

Sam put his gun away, dropping his bag from his shoulder. “We need to take her some place we can question her.” He pulled out a roll of duct tape. “The longer we’re here, the more we risk detection.”

Joshua nodded, pressed his lips closer to the blonde’s ear. “Now we don’t want to hurt you, so when I move my hand, make sure you keep those lovely lips closed.”

“Do you understand?” Sam asked her, coming to stand in front of the two. When the girl continued to mumble and fight, the younger hunter lifted his own weapon and pointed it at her. “Shut up!” he snapped, and the woman quieted. He would have felt badly for her but hate and anger now filled her dark eyes, more so than the fear Sam had expected.

“You let out more than a whisper when I remove my hand, and I will break your graceful neck. How’s that for an offer you can’t refuse?”

“He won’t even flinch,” Sam added and waited for the girl to give some indication she understood before he put his weapon away. They couldn’t risk her alerting anyone. Caleb’s life wouldn’t be the only one on the line.

Finally she nodded, and Sam jutted his chin for Joshua to move. The blond hunter slid his hand from the woman’s mouth, but maintained his hold around her throat. Sam made quick work of fastening the duct tape snuggly over her mouth before grabbing her hands and deftly securing her wrists. “Nice work,” Joshua commented. “I take it this isn’t your first kidnapping?”

Sam ignored him, grabbing a pillow from the lone bed. He removed the case, yanked Ann forward, and covered her head with the fabric. “I’ll carry her, you cover our sixes.” The younger hunter didn’t wait for a response as he tore a blanket from the mattress, draping it over the woman as if he were covering a statue. He proceeded to wind a length of tape around her effectively pinning her arms to her side before tossing her over his shoulder like a rolled rug. “You ready?” He asked, when Joshua merely stood silent, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Was this method taught in a special Brotherhood weekend seminar? Because I’m quite sure it wasn’t covered in our typical training.”

Sam merely frowned at him and gestured towards the bag on the floor. “Get the weapons, too. We don’t want to leave a calling card.”

“Of course not. We’ll just sneak a horse head in her lover’s bed before daylight.”

Sam was afraid it was going to be daylight before they made it back to the car, but despite the girl’s futile struggling and Joshua’s incessant running commentary, they made it back without incident and in a time that would have impressed his father.

“Where to now?” Joshua looked at him as he opened the trunk and watched as Sam dumped the girl into the trunk along with Sawyer’s toys.

“We passed a campground on the way in. It looked deserted.”

“So what? We’re going to have a fireside chat?”

“You think it would be better to take her back to the motel?”

Joshua frowned as he thought of the tiny town establishment with its paper thin walls and nosy occupants. “I suppose you’re right.” He sighed. “Besides I’m not sure I would trust your brother in the current situation. I for one do not want to be responsible for disposing of a body.”

Sam felt his hackles rise. “My brother isn’t a murderer.”

“No,” Sawyer closed the trunk. “But I’ve seen him in protective mode. He’s not exactly a pacifist.” It was one of the things that made him so different from Jim Murphy, and one of the many points he had heard whispered among the brethren.

“He only does what’s necessary,” the younger hunter defended as he moved to the passenger’s side door.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Joshua climbed in the driver’s side. “What if Ann doesn’t want to tell us what we want to know?”

Sam raked his hands through his hair. He hadn’t let himself think of that possibility, preferring to let the details of capturing the woman keep his negative thoughts at bay. “We’ll think of something.”

Joshua gave him a quick look. “Of course we will,” he said, starting the car, scattering dust and gravel as he made once more for the main road.

Unfortunately, at the end of their first interrogation attempt neither of them had made much head way with Ann. “What did you give him?” Sam demanded again, storming around the small covered shelter where they had opted to stop. It was at the beginning of a trail head housing a topographical map of the area, a shabby picnic table, and a donations box that sported a broken lock. “Tell us and we’ll let you go.”

The blonde rolled her eyes at him, and Sam none too gently jerked the duct tape from her mouth yet again. He had removed it when they first arrived but Ann had decided screaming was an appropriate response to being dragged away from her room in the middle of the night. Despite the desolateness of the area, they had shut her up quickly. “Scream again, and I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” She spat, venomously. “Kill me? I’m prepared to die. My savior will reward me for weeding out the wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“Wow. Caleb really knows how to pick them,” Joshua observed. “Although she seems to have his number.”

Sam gave the older hunter a withering look, before turning back to Ann. “Dying will be easy, lady, compared to what we have in mind.” He tried to give it his best Dean spin, but it still came out sounding lame.

“My body is a temple,” she hissed. “Desecrate it and you will burn in hell with your friend.”

“And what? You’ll go to Heaven for murdering an innocent man?” Sam demanded angrily, not having to fake the fury he was feeling.

“He dared to violate the inner sanctum of the Temple. Your innocent friend came to us under a veil of lies, hoping to steal our brothers and sisters from us.” Ann smiled, as if she understood the connection the men shared all too well. “How would you like it if we took a brother from you?”

“You could just take it from her?” Joshua suggested suddenly and Sam was brought up short from his advancement on the girl.

He frowned. “What?”

“I’ve seen Reaves do it,” he explained. “Sort of like that whole ‘reading’ thing. He touches them and retrieves the information. Telepathic hacking.”

Sam sighed, understanding what Sawyer was suggesting. “I’ve never done that.”

“It doesn’t mean that you can’t.”

The young psychic had been practicing a few techniques. Caleb had worked with him some, and the notes in Mac’s journal had explained the specifics. Mackland had likened it to looking through a person’s mental files. He had written exercises for Caleb to follow. It was mental visualization training, but Sam had not tried it on an actual person. “I don’t know…”

The blond hunter exhaled, loudly. “Then what, Sam? We could torture her?” He pointed to the knife and tazer they had gotten out for scare tactics. “But I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that those methods really aren’t our area of expertise. Besides, I’m wearing Hugo Boss and bloodstains are dreadful to get out.”

Sam still didn’t look convinced. “Fine, we’ll take her to Dean and let him handle her. I happen to know he won’t mind if his Salvation Army rags are ruined and he might actually enjoy himself in the process.”

Ann had the common sense to look a little frightened at the suggestion, as Joshua replaced the tape and started to pull her up from the bench.

“Wait.” Sam stopped him. He didn’t want to risk taking the girl into town and he wasn’t certain his brother wouldn’t lose it…especially if the worst happened. “I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit.” Joshua stepped back, waved a hand towards the girl, who was shifting her nervous gaze between the two of them.

Sam took a deep breath, stepping towards Ann. “Hold her still.”

Sawyer once again pulled the would be killer to her feet and grasped her arms tightly. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt…much.”

The younger hunter closed his eyes, placing his hand on the squirming girl’s forehead. At first nothing happened, but then Sam concentrated on his breathing. Mac had written one should imagine a door, a lock, and a key. One could gently insert the imaginary key into the lock, turning it to allow entrance. He also wrote there were other ways. Sam saw the door. It came to him in black, red dripping from its frame, and he thought of his brother and Caleb.

He imagined himself raising his foot and kicking the wooden surface. It splintered and slammed open under the force, and he felt the girl jerk beneath his hands. Once inside the rest was easy. Files were a good metaphor for Mac, but Sam preferred books. Ann’s mind unfolded like a treasured library and all Sam needed to do was browse through the shelves of tomes to find the one he was looking for.

Sam’s life had been spent doing research. It was one of the things that drew him to the law…and it was a part of hunting that he actually loved. Maybe it had been preparing him for bigger things, too.

Mac wrote about how Caleb manipulated his ability to build things-to create-to forge pathways into other’s psyches. The other psychic would envision a bridge linking him to what he wanted to access. But as usual, the younger hunter had to discover his own way.

It was natural to imagine a place he had spent so much time in. Sam could work a library with the best of them, and it took him mere moments to discover what he was looking for.

Ann’s defenses were weak. Despite her bravado, she was a frightened girl. Crazy, but still vulnerable. The spine of the book was marked Brother Thomas, and Sam only needed to touch it, before the words flooded through his mind.

“Sam!”

Joshua’s sharp voice shattered the mental illusion and the young psychic stumbled back away from Ann. An overwhelming sense of vertigo nearly sent him to the ground. “Damn it, Josh!” he snapped, holding his head and trying to regain his equilibrium. It was disconcerting, similar to waking from an intense dream.

“Sorry,” the other man growled, “but I thought we agreed to no impromptu body disposals tonight.” Joshua gestured to Ann, who was now slumped in his grasp, her ashen face covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

“God…is she still breathing?” Sam reached a trembling hand out to check for a pulse, swallowing back the nausea that assaulted him. “I…I didn’t mean…”

“She’s alive,” Joshua assured him, maneuvering the girl back to the picnic table bench. “The important question is, did you get what we needed?”

“I think so,” Sam said, continuing to stare at Ann’s still form.

“She fainted,” Josh explained, using his knife to free the woman’s hands. He tossed the discarded blanket over her shoulders. “We’ll call the police and give an anonymous tip that we saw one of the local crazy cult members out sleep walking.” When the younger hunter didn’t respond, Sawyer sighed. “Look, at it this way, Sam, putting another small crack in an already damaged piece of crystal isn’t going to cost you anything.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Did it?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps Reaves is the better man for the ‘coddling Sammy’ job…”

Sam gave him a look that spoke volumes about his feelings for Sawyer‘s tact, or lack there of. Maybe it stung so much because at that moment Caleb was exactly who Sam wanted to talk to. “You’re right,” he said, giving Ann one final glance. “We need to get back.”

Dean Winchester watched the steady rise and fall of Caleb’s chest. His friend still held captive in the cruel, relentless grasp of whatever poison used on him. “Hang in there, Damien,” he said softly. “Sammy needs you man. Since Dad’s gone, there’s not many people left to back me up with the kid.”

He swallowed thickly, as thoughts of his father flooded his mind. “Sometimes I can’t believe that I’ll never see him again…or Jim.” Dean raked a hand through his hair, wondering if fate was about to deal him yet another blow. “Although the pastor keeps popping up in my dreams. Wonder what Mac would say about that?”

“Maybe he’d tell me I’m finally losing it. Captain Onehelluva Big Brother is coming apart at the seams.” He exhaled, loudly. “If you run out on us too, Damien, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold it all together. Maybe Sammy‘s not the only one that needs you, man. I‘ve kind of got use to knowing you‘re around…Not that this means I like you or anything.”

Dean shook his head, smiling ruefully as his words sparked an old memory. Seeing as how the present was far too bleak he let his mind pull him to the past where things were much simpler.

“Don’t even think this means I like you.”

“I know.” The eight-year-old sighed in exasperation. “I’m short, annoying and weird-looking,” he reported verbatim. “You‘re only bringing me because anything less than death is better than being cooped up in the apartment with a sick baby for one more minute.”

“Bingo. All of the above.” The older, dark haired boy led them up the subway tunnel, keeping a firm hand on the kid as hoards of people swarmed past them. He felt the boy tense and tightened his grip. “And remember,” he continued, “if we see any of my friends, we’re practically strangers.”

“You have friends?” The blond asked, giving the taller boy a sideways grin.

With a roll of his eyes the sixteen-year-old shoved him out into the warm, spring sunshine. “And if it’s a girl…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an orphan in the Big Brother mentoring program and you’re fulfilling community service. And you hate it.”

“And what am I serving time for?” the teen prodded.

“Knocking over a convenience store.” The kid looked up at him like he was an idiot. “You’re not supposed to lie.”

“What? It‘s not lying, it‘s inventing a cover, which is a very important skill by the way.” He let go of the boy long enough to cover his chest with his hand. “After all, I have an image to protect.”

“An image as a bad guy?”

“Chicks love the bad guys.” That statement was met with a blank look and the teen sighed. “Someday you’ll get it and then I‘ll take you to the big boy’s playground.”

“Where are we going today?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“But I thought we were just going to get away from Mac and Sammy?”

Caleb Reaves, his dark hair whipping around his face in the slightly chilled breeze, stopped just across the street from their intended destination, pulling out what had cost him three weeks worth of allowance. He held the tickets up and waggled them in front of Dean Winchester’s face. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Deuce.”

Dean took the tickets. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he read the emblazoned letters. “We’re going to see a ballgame?”

“Not just any ballgame, Kid.” Caleb rolled his eyes and turned the boy towards the huge arena before them. “We’re going to Yankee Stadium to see a ballgame.”

Dean whistled, “No way.” He turned back to the teen, confusion replacing some of the excitement.

“Yes way. Just don‘t tell your dad I took you on the subway or to the Bronx.”

“But we don’t like the Yankees.”

“Gift horse, Deuce.” The sixteen-year-old slapped him on the back of the head. “But I admire your loyalty.” Caleb pointed to the tickets again. “Check out who they’re playing.”

Dean’s breath hitched and he stared up at the older boy. “The Red Sox?” he said in awe.

“If you tear up, Kid, this will so be our last field trip.”

“I don’t cry!” Dean cocked his head. “Crying’s for babies.” But he couldn’t keep the humongous smile off of his face. “Thanks, Caleb! I’ve never been to a ballgame before. Not a real one.”

The teen looked around to make sure no one was watching before he reached out and squeezed the kid’s shoulder. “Don’t mention it, Deuce. And if you play your cards right, this will be just the beginning. There are lots of better firsts than this one.”

“Really?” Dean asked as Caleb guided them across the street.

“Trust me. The kind of homerun we’ll see here today pales to the kind of games you’ll be into when you’re older.”

The statement garnered as much reaction as its predecessor had, and Dean’s gaze stayed fixed on the stadium looming before them like King Solomon’s treasure. “Can I have a hotdog?”

Caleb laughed. “What do I look like, Deuce?”

Dean grinned up at him. “My Big Brother. I’m an orphan. Remember?”

It was true. Damn it. Sam had been right about a lot of things. “There’s a lot more firsts out there, Damien.” Winchester, rested his elbows on his knees, his hands fisted together. There was something about the threat of losing someone that made you remember the strangest things you shared together. “You can’t run out yet.”

When Sam was sick or hurt, Dean always remembered him as a little boy. Vivid images would come to him. Times like Sam’s first step, his first words, or his little brother’s tear-filled eyes as he practically had to shove him into the kindergarten classroom that first day of school would flood his mind with all the same clarity as if Dean had experienced them the day before instead of years long past.

With Caleb, ironically, it was always Dean who was experiencing those novel benchmarks. He’d never thought about it before, but the older hunter had picked up the slack on all the forgotten rites of passage his Dad discarded, or had not deemed critical for survival, from his formative years. “Remember the first time you gave me tequila?” Dean smiled, as he easily recalled the wicked headache and groveling at the porcelain tank of the rat-infested motel he and his family were staying in. “I thought I’d been poisoned.”

The blond hunter leaned forward when Caleb moved restlessly under the blankets, pulling at his shirt. Dean caught his hand, grasping it tightly to settle him. “You told Dad I’d eaten bad chicken salad from a convenience story.” He snorted. “Like he was going to buy that. I inherited my cast iron stomach from him. If I remember right, you had a whole hell of a lot of PT to do that day.”

Dean let his other hand rest against the psychic’s forehead, frowning when it seemed warmer than it had only moments before. Caleb’s fever had dropped some after Joshua’s sleazy doctor friend had provided treatment, but just as Sam had pointed out before, like the morphine, it wasn’t a cure. The band-aid tactics were slowly losing their effect, as evident by the lines of pain once again present on the older man’s face.

Dean sat back in the chair he’d pulled close to the bed. He sighed, rubbing at his weary eyes and shooting a quick look to the digital clock. It was nearly nine. Joshua and Sam had been gone almost two hours. It had been hard to let his brother go with the other hunter, but he couldn’t be in two places at once. And Sawyer was smart enough to know what would happen to him if he crossed that invisible line.

His eyes went back to Caleb and he continued on with the one-sided conversation, making sure the other hunter knew someone was with him. “Then who could forget the first time we hustled pool together. I gotta’ admit, we were a force to be reckoned with. So what if we got our asses kicked by that biker gang afterwards. Dad showed no mercy either, making us spar the next morning. I had bruises upon bruises, but all I could think of was the look on Atilla the Hun’s face when I made that straight across the alley ’Door to Door’ shot. It was so sweet.”

“No…” Caleb mumbled, his head moving from side to side. “NO!”

“Hey,” Dean moved to the edge of the bed, the reminiscing forgotten. “Caleb? Take it easy.”

“I’m sorry…” Caleb muttered. “I…failed.”

The younger hunter couldn’t take the uncharacteristic lost tone, or the intermittent whimpers of pain any longer. He reached out and shook the older man. “Wake up, Reaves,” he said, adopting the one tone he new the psychic wouldn’t resist if possible. It was an order worthy of John Winchester. “I mean it damn it! Snap out of it.”

Dean got his wish, but the tormented eyes blinking up at him had him questioning his selfishness. He lowered his voice. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. It’s okay.”

“Dean…” Caleb appeared frightened and confused. “I’m…sorry,” he stammered, pulling away. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything.” Dean’s frown grew as Caleb’s distress increased. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I let you down…you and Sammy. Dad…too. And Johnny... I can’ t do this alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

Caleb grasped at his jacket, seeming confused when his hand met with something solid. “I’m not…the demon’s here.”

Dean sighed, gripping the psychic’s wrist. “No he’s not, Caleb. It’s the fever.” Dean tried desperately to erase the fear he could see, fear he himself had felt in the past. “I’m here. Just you and me, man. Nothing‘s getting past me. I got you covered. I swear.”

“You look good for a dead guy…” Caleb swallowed, sounding more like himself than he had since the ordeal had started. He let go of Dean’s arm, with a pat. “I’m sorry…” he said again, forlornly. “It…should have been me, Deuce.”

“I’m not dead!” Dean grabbed hold of his hand again, sensing the older man was slipping away.

“I don’t want to do this alone...”Caleb mumbled, his gaze growing distant. “I can’t fight it anymore…I’m tired.”

Panic seized the younger hunter. “I’m not dead, damn it. Sam is fine. Mac is okay, too. We’re all here,” he said forcefully. “Waiting for you.”

Caleb frowned, shaking his head in denial. “But…the demon…”

Dean wasn‘t sure if the monster was all in his friend‘s head or if the poison was some kind of link to the thing that had already stolen entire pieces of his life. At the moment it didn‘t matter. Yellow Eyes wasn’t getting one more thing that was important to him. “Demon’s lie! You know that. First rule Bobby taught us all. Don’t believe the bastards. They use our own thoughts and fears against us. Come on, Damien, you of all people understand what that thing is capable of doing.”

“But…” Caleb looked so lost and hurt but Dean had no idea how to help. “I have the rings…”

“Not mine.” Dean held up his hand, silver flashing. “I have it. And Jim’s, too. Remember, you gave it to me?”

“Not here…”Caleb winced, his body trembling as the poison tried to drag him back under. “You’re not…here. I can‘t get back.”

“Of course you can.” Dean didn’t know why the words came to him, but they echoed so loudly through his mind, that he couldn’t not say them. “Just over the New River Gorge, Dude. Earth be spanned…right? You once told me you could cross anything with a bridge.”

“Bridges,” Caleb said and Dean was almost certain he caught a hint of the usual spark that lurked in his best friend’s gaze just before the older hunter’s eyes slid shut once more.

“Damn it,” Dean growled, as he checked Caleb’s pulse and found it as erratic and fast as it was when they first got there. He knew time was running out. “Come on, Sammy. Where the hell are you?”

As if his words were enchanted, there was a thud at the door and Dean heard voices. His brother’s voice. “What is this stuff?” Sam was complaining as he and Joshua piled through the door, carrying several bags. He stood, completely sold on the idea of dropping Sawyer where he stood if he’d stopped once again for takeout.

Then the smell hit him. “Damn. That cult build their castle on a land fill?”

“No,” Sam complained. “Joshua had to stop at an old friend’s house.”

“And what? Clean out their sewer system?”

“It’s a very important ingredient.” Joshua didn’t explain further as he took the bags from Sam and started towards the bathroom, to perform his craft in secrecy.

“Ingredients for what?” Dean asked his brother.

Sam pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the chair. “It’s a long story.” He walked towards the bed. “How is he?” Caleb looked worse than when he had left.

“I don’t know, man.” Dean slid his hands through his hair. “His fever’s back up. Did you guys find the girl?” He frowned. “Where is she?”

The younger hunter couldn’t stop the involuntary gulping action as he glanced towards his brother. “I…uh…”

“You what?” Sam was looking like he used to when Dean would catch him sneaking cookies before dinner. “Sammy?”

“We found her, but she didn’t want to cooperate.”

“Most killers aren’t real helpful, Columbo.”

“She…” Sam hesitated. “I had to take the information from her.”

“And that means?”

“It means…” Sam glanced to Caleb, wishing the other man was there to fill in the gaps. Some of it Sam himself still didn’t understand. It was all like a bad dream. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad.” Dean shook his head. “Spill.”

The younger man sat down on the side of the bed by Caleb, hoping to maybe absorb some kind of explanation. He looked up at the blond hunter. “She was crazy, kept calling Caleb a wolf in sheep’s clothing…saying she would be rewarded for what she had done to him.” He swallowed hard. “Joshua said that I could get the information telepathically.”

Dean’s frown deepened. “Do you know how to do that?” And since when did his brother listen to Sawyer.

“Kind of.” Sam shrugged, his eyes moving to Caleb again. “I read about it in the journal.”

The older Winchester could read the look on his brother’s face. Apparently things hadn’t gone smoothly. “Did you get what we needed?”

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded, confidently holding his kid brother’s unsure gaze. “Then you did the right thing-the only thing you could have.”

“But..” Dean hadn’t seen the girl‘s face-felt her pain. He didn’t know Sam had felt a surge of power when he’d so easily ripped away what she had denied them, or even worse that he had felt a modicum of sweet revenge.

“No buts, Sammy. This is family. We have to save Caleb.” It wouldn’t be like Jim or their father. He wouldn’t allow it. "Besides, sometimes the hardest thing is the right thing."

Sam held his gaze; his brother's unnerving ability to say just what he needed to hear still shocked him. “Yeah.”

“So…shouldn’t we call sleazy Rodney?” Dean jutted his chin towards Caleb. “He doesn’t have much time. We need to hurry.” The truth was Dean couldn’t take much more either.

Sam shook his head. “Joshua thinks he can counteract it. Some of the ingredients didn’t make sense to me, but he recognized them. It wasn’t your typical poison.”

“Black magic?” Dean palmed his tired eyes. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense unless this cult is involved in some demonic stuff.”

“Joshua said it was old school stuff…he called Missouri.”

“Missouri?” The older hunter gave his brother a surprised look. “Why?”

“She’s the expert on the whole herbs thing.”

Dean sat down across from his brother, dropping his hand to Caleb’s forehead. He sighed when he could feel the heat through his fingers. He glanced up at his brother. “Do you ever get the feeling we missed the forest for the trees, Sammy?”

Sam looked at him. “Like the whole Knight-Triad thing?”

His brother nodded. “I never even asked Dad about it. I figured he’d tell us when he wanted to, when the time was right…and then time ran out.”

“I say we make him tell us when he wakes up.” Sam glanced to Caleb again. “If he’s the new Knight, then he’ll know about the Guardian and the Scholar,” he gestured towards the bathroom. “And the Wizard.”

Dean paled. “Joshua’s in the Triad?”

“No, I don’t’ think so.” Sam rubbed at his head, where a hint of pain was blossoming. “Mac wrote about Missouri being a consult to the Triad. He called her the Witch and I don’t think he meant it in a derogatory way.”

That made a weird kind of sense. “So there were things in the book about the whole Triad thing?”

“Not much, and not enough to make heads or tails of.” Sam rubbed at his head again, wincing as a shard of light pierced through his mind. He felt his heart quicken and he swallowed thickly, denying the tell-tale signs of the impending pain.

Dean licked his lips. “If Caleb took Dad’s place…then what about Jim?” Reaves had asked for the Guardian. There was no way he could deliver Jim, but if there was another, then the younger hunter would find him. Maybe he could save not only Caleb but Sam, too.

Sam raised his gaze to meet his brother’s, intending on answering him- when he was saved from confessing he was clueless by the vision that struck.

Caleb was kneeling before a door, a line of salt lay out in front of him. Beyond the wooden structure something pounded fiercely, demanding entrance.

Sam watched as the dark haired hunter bowed his head, looking down at his open palm which was covered in blood. In fact, the red liquid seemed to be flowing freely from an unseen wound.

The door shook and then splintered in an impressive showering of wood and metal. Caleb didn’t even move, only clenched his hand to his heart, looking up at the darkness that flooded through the missing door.

Sam wanted to scream for him to move as a dark-skinned man entered into the room. The younger psychic had expected the glowing eyes of a monster, perhaps the twisted face of a familiar friend who had been violated. But it was a stranger who lifted the sword above his friend’s head.

Caleb looked up then, glaring defiantly at his enemy before a cold grin of his own crossed his rugged face.

And then, in a flash of bright, white light the sword arced through the air, fatally piercing the Knight’s heart.

The sound of Caleb’s cry of pain mixed with the sound of his brother’s voice calling his name. Sam gasped loudly as he found himself back in the motel room. Dean was gripping one of his arms, but his attention was being shared with the sick hunter who was moving restlessly again.

"I'm okay," Sam choked, trying to forget the image of what he had just seen.

Dean didn't look convinced and didn't let him go. "You and your wonder twin again?"

The younger man shook his head. "No. It was a vision." At least it had the same effect as his typical clairvoyant episode. He winced, rubbing at his forehead. "Damn."

"And?" Dean helped him up from his knees, easing him back onto the empty bed.

The look on his face must have told all because his brother let him go. He moved back to Caleb's side. "No." He shook his head. "No fucking way that's happening."

"Dean..." Sam started and his brother held up a hand, continuing to move away from him.

"Don't, Sam. He's going to be fine."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Joshua chose that moment to come busting out of the bathroom, the horrible smell accompanying him.

"Is that the potion?" Sam asked, slowly standing back up. He knew he was jumping at the chance to change the subject and erase the lingering feeling of grief.

“Potion?” Sawyer scoffed bitterly. “This is a delicately balanced chemical equation of pure genius.”

Dean stood and critically eyed the plastic cup Joshua was proudly holding. “It’s a steaming cup of stinking sludge is what it is and if you think I’m letting you pour that into Caleb, you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“It may not look appetizing, but I assure you that you don’t have a clue as to what Caleb needs at this point.”

“Why? Because I don’t have a wand and pointy hat?”

The older blond stepped towards Dean. "I'm going to remember that you're under a great deal of stress and let that remark slide under the radar." He shot Dean a glance. "And I won't be doing the pouring, you will. Knight or not, no vomit touches these shoes. They're from the Bruno Magli collection."

Sam could see the emotions raging through his brother's green eyes. He didn't trust many people, and when it came to him or Caleb that number probably dropped profoundly. "He knows what he's doing, Dean."

"He better," the older Winchester growled.

"Just remember what I said...one miracle per year." Joshua held the cup out to him with a baleful look.

"I suggest you pray that your batting average improves." Dean took the elixir, grimacing as he got a better look at it. "I'd pray real hard, Sawyer," he threatened.

The older hunter stepped back as Sam moved in to help his brother. He maneuvered behind Caleb, lifting him up to a semi-sitting position.

"Come on, Caleb." Dean patted the other man's face, hoping to rouse him, hoping not to have to do it the hard way. "Time for a nightcap."

When the older man merely mumbled something unintelligible, Dean sighed. "Okay, I don't blame you. But this is for your own good, Damien." He grabbed the older man's face, forcing his lax jaws open.

Sam saw his brother hesitate. "Sometimes the hardest thing and right thing are the same," he reminded him.

Dean nodded, grimly. He tilted Caleb's head back, pouring the foul-smelling drink down his throat. The psychic struggled, coughing some of it back up and onto his shirt. Tossing the cup aside, Dean forced the older man's mouth shut, covering his lips and nose with his hand until Caleb was forced to swallow the antidote to ensure his next breath.

When he was certain his friend had indeed ingested the liquid, Dean let him go, swallowing back his own urge to be sick. Sam was looking at him with an expression similar to the time he'd brought a half-dead baby rabbit to him to be healed. It felt as if he had just snatched Caleb from the jaws of death, as his brother had torn Bunnicula from Atticus Finch's canines, but to a better end result he hoped. "It's okay," he heard himself saying, without conscious thought. Sam was holding onto the psychic in the same intense way he'd held that broken rabbit all those years ago, and Dean felt his eyes sting. "A little rest and he'll be good as new." Too bad Jim wasn't there to lead them in prayer. Not that Dean was sure he believed in anything anymore, but having the pastor grip his hand and whisper his magic words would have been a comfort just the same.

"Well, then, I guess I'll be going." Joshua broke the moment with his cheerful announcement. "If I hurry I can still make my date."

"You're leaving?" Dean turned and glared at him."Now?"

"I've done my duty," Joshua defended. "And I'm sure you two can handle things from here." He moved around the room picking up his things. "But do let me know how it turns out."

"Dean," Sam warned, as he watched his brother tense.

"Oh we'll be in touch." The oldest Winchester stepped towards Sawyer. Especially if things went South. "I'll be sure and leave a message."

Joshua nodded, quickly making his way towards the door. "Make sure you do."

The younger hunters watched him go, and Sam exhaled loudly. "Dick head."

Despite himself, Dean laughed. His brother sounded five again. "You always did have his number, Sammy."

"No way. I don't get the guy at all." Sam eased Caleb back down on the bed, pushing his sweat-soaked hair back with another sigh. "One minue he's okay, and the next he's a jerk. How could he just leave without knowing what was going to ..."

Sam didn't get to finish because Caleb groaned then, his body suddenly arching off the mattress.

Dean flashed his brother a look, making his way back to the older psychic's side as their friend began to breathe harshly. "Didn't know, my ass!" he snapped. "The sonofabitch knew exactly what was going to happen."

As the youngest Winchester watched Caleb battle against whatever the 'antidote' was doing to him, he had to hand it to Joshua. The man was many things, but he wasn't dumb. If the look on Dean's face was any indication, Sawyer wouldn't have been safe to wait it out with them. "Dean?"

His brother didn't answer him , fighting to keep Caleb on the bed, as the man writhed against his invisible attacker. "Goddamnit. I shouldn't have trusted that bastard." The words were heavy with guilt and self-recrimination.

"Dean, it could..."

"It could what, Sammy? Be worse?" He gestured to the psychic, who was curled into himself as if trying to hide from the pain. "I'm so sick of this shit."

Sam wasn't sure if his brother was referring to the last six hours of hell or the hell that the last twenty years had brought them. "Me too," he whispered, trying not remember the look on Caleb's face, the one from the latest vision. He knew he was about to die, and he had relished the release it would bring.

"It's okay, Caleb." Dean was leaned over the other man, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. It hurt to watch...awkward and unnatural. Dean and Caleb were never more ill-suited for a situation such as the one they were in.

His brother turned a tortured gaze to him when Caleb called out for their father and then Mac. "What can we do?"

The question caught him by surprise. He felt his mouth open, but no words formed. He felt like he was letting his brother down.

"Deuce..." The choked name let him off the hook as Dean's focus went back to the hurting psychic.

Caleb was looking at him, although glassy-eyed. "Hey," Dean took his hand, grasped it firmly. "I'm here. Take it easy."

"He's here...I can't..."

Dean frowned, not understanding the fevered rambling. "Shhh, no one's here. Just me and Sammy."

"He'll...kill the Knight..." Caleb was overcome, by another merciless wave of pain. He inadvertently pulled Dean closer as he buried his face into the pillow, muffling his scream. "Guardian...will be vulnerable."

"Hey!" Dean snapped. 'The Knight's not going anywhere, Damien. Do you hear me?" He spared his brother a quick desperate glance. "Call that doctor, Sam. Now!"

Caleb's words held Sam's rapt attention, his brother's demands taking a back seat to the vivid flashback of the Knight being felled by his own sword. "No," he whispered.

"No?" His brother barked, clinging tighter to Caleb as he felt the tremors start to wrack his body. What the hell had they done?

"It's too late for that," Sam whispered, feeling the first tear slip down his face, hope fleeing along with it. He met his brother's imploring gaze and felt it pierce his own heart. "It's too late."
 
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