“It requires more courage to suffer, than to die.” –
Napoleon Bonaparte
Dean wasn’t allowed to ride in the ambulance. After giving basic information to the EMT and getting directions to the small hospital, Dean returned to the Impala to find Ian and Silas gone. They vanished quickly, depriving Winchester swift justice. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have killed them-especially Ian.
On his way down the mountain, the unnatural quiet gave Dean time to vacillate between thinking through worthy revenge plots to obsessing about his childhood nightmare. The persistent nightmare won in the end, taunting the young hunter with its fatalism.
The reoccurring dream was set in a garden overrun by blush-colored roses-a sanctuary with winged cement dragons jutting from reflection pools of thick, red water. Through out the years the pools had held different victims from Dean’s life. Sam would reappear there often, dead and lifeless in the murky depths. Caleb made appearances, as did John. Cassie had even showed up once.
More disturbing than the vivid images though, was the omniscient voice that spoke to Dean in his mind as he stood frozen and helpless to reach those he would have died for. ‘Death comes for you, Dean, but finds the ones you love.’ It summed up what Dean feared most- left alone in the world.
To Dean it had become an unholy masochistic mantra he would hear when danger was near or someone he was close to was threatened. The only positive was it drove him to fight harder-to never fail. He had lost so much already. His mother. His Dad. Jim. And now Sam and Caleb…
Sitting in the ER it echoed around him. God. He would have traded places with either of them. Not even knowing the extent of their injuries, Dean Winchester would have jumped at the chance to make an even swap-his life for Caleb’s or Sam’s. It was the way it should have been. Ian alluded to as much.
“Dean!”
Mackland Ames’s voice broke the painful enchantment-the useless self recriminations. It had never been so welcomed and Dean clung to it like a life preserver tossed to him in a tumultuous sea.
Winchester quickly raised his gaze from the tiled hospital floor and choked back a sob of relief. “Mac.”
The doctor crossed the room quickly, meeting up with Dean just as the younger hunter stood on shaky legs. He didn’t give Dean time to speak before he was pulled into a rough hug. “Thank God you’re alright, Son.”
Mackland pushed him back, retaining his hold on Dean’s shoulders. His gray eyes roamed over the younger hunter, searching for any overt injury. “When Naomi called me with your message, she said there was some sort of accident and that you and the boys…” Mackland stopped talking, searched the unfamiliar faces around them. “Where are your brother and Caleb?”
Dean swallowed hard, trying to control the runaway feelings threatening to takeover. “They’re…they wouldn’t let me go back to the examination room…no one’s told me one damn thing, Mac.”
“They’re being examined?”
“We’ve been here for hours.”
Hours. That didn’t sound good. Ames kept a grip on Dean’s arm and headed for the nurses station. “I’m Dr. Mackland Ames. I need to know how my son and nephew are. They were brought in some time ago
The woman behind the computer looked up from her work. “Sir, if you’re with Mr. Conner,” she turned a stern gaze to Dean, “then I’ll tell you the same thing I have repeatedly told him.” She leveled her dark eyes on Mackland. “The doctors are with your son and nephew and as soon as they are able they will come out to talk with you.”
“Can you at least give me their current status?”
The nurse frowned at him. “If you’re a physician, then you know the answer to that.”
“Fine.” Mackland growled. “Will you at least tell the Chief of Staff I’m here? I could be of assistance.”
“Do you really want me to interrupt treatment to announce your presence?”
Ames pushed away from the counter, not dignifying the attitude with an answer. He guided Dean to the waiting area.
“Fine?” Dean shook his head. “That’s it? That’s your big comeback? What the hell happened to the ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ speech, Mac? Aren’t you going to bust in there-kick some intern ass? I want to know what’s going on.”
The doctor led the younger hunter to a chair, motioned for him to sit. “We can’t bring any unwanted attention, Dean. I have serious doubts that many people here have read my medical journal articles or care to hear my resume.” Mackland held up a hand to cut off the protest he could see building in the green depths. “Antagonizing them will only get us tossed out. Do you want that?”
“No.” Dean sat down. All he wanted was to know his brother and Caleb were going to be alright.
Mac took the seat beside him. “Dean? Tell me what happened.”
Winchester took a deep breath; let it out slowly to gather his thoughts. All they had was time. “We were on a hunt…for an elemental.” Dean glanced at the doctor. “We couldn’t figure out how to trap the damn thing.”
“An elemental? They’re attracted to psychic ability.” Mac pursed his lips and his forehead creased. “I remember John hunted one. I helped him with the research.”
Dean nodded and told the physician about their first encounter with the sylph. “After the bitch went after Sammy, Caleb called Joshua. Sawyer sent in Ian and Silas for backup.”
Mackland realized there were major gaps in the story thus far. “And?”
“And they had some fucking box that was supposed to trap the Paralda until we could vanquish it.” Dean’s voice rose with each word and several of the ER staff looked his way. He clenched his fists, lowered his tone. “I should have never trusted the bastards. Caleb and his fucked up virtue…”
The doctor laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “Take it easy. Just tell me what happened to Sam and Caleb.”
Dean painstakingly recounted every grizzly detail to the doctor, watching Mackland’s face flush with anger and then pale as the implications sank in.
“What did this weapon do to them?”
“I don’t know exactly.” Dean didn’t hide his frustration. “That’s what I was hoping the doctors could tell me, but as you can see no one has said one damn thing.”
Mackland continued to watch him, waiting for the more definitive answer. Dean licked his lips. “Hell, Mac. I don’t know. They reacted like they do when they have visions…but a lot worse. Caleb was trying to shield Sam because of the Paralda’s attack from before. He went down faster.”
Dean’s watery gaze met the doctor’s. “They were both unconscious before it was over. Things got hairy on the way here. The EMT wouldn’t tell me much except that they both had some kind of seizure, their blood pressure was doing crazy things, and Caleb…Caleb was in respiratory distress.”
Ames leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He ran a finger over his brow, absorbing what Dean told him. He finally looked at the younger hunter. “It would make sense if the box used a frequency similar to what is created when the area of their brain that we believe responsible for psychic phenomena is being used.” Mackland made an affirmative ‘un huh’ to himself. “It would seek out the similar frequency and relate it back to the mechanism in a loop.”
“Frequency? Sort of like how an EMF picks up spirit activity?” Dean interrupted the doctor’s brainstorming.
“Similar in process. Yes.” Mackland agreed. “But on an opposite spectrum. Instead of only receiving the electrical impulse, this box sent it back out. It could have used an ultra high frequency sound, like a dog whistle. The government has being doing research in the area of sound and how it can stimulate areas of the brain.”
“Like some kind of death ray?”
Mackland snorted. “Perhaps.” He shook his head at Dean’s analogy. “Exposure to a source that reacted to energy pathways of psychic nuance could definitely explain Sam and Caleb’s pain reaction. Parts of the brain that control pain can be manipulated. Caleb knows how to utilize that, as well as accessing the medulla oblongata, the area of the organ that controls breathing, heart rate and blood pressure.”
“The Darth Vader thing?” Dean asked. He had seen Caleb cut off someone’s oxygen supply without even touching them.
Ames sighed. “You and Caleb view entirely too much television. But yes, Star Wars based their use of The Force in paranormal psychic phenomena. What Vader does to his victims is comparable in effect.”
Dean rubbed at his forehead. Speaking to Mackland without a translator could be taxing. “I get that the box causes them pain…but could it do major damage?”
“If you consider respiratory distress, heart failure, and grand mal seizures as major damage, then yes.”
Dean muddled through the physician speak. “So whatever that box put out clashes with whatever frequency a psychic’s brain puts off when they’re using their abilities, resulting in one big electrical storm inside their head.”
Mackland gave the boy an appreciative nod. “Yes. Like repels like. And unnatural electrical firing in the brain can cause chaos-such as tonic-clonic seizing.”
“Like two positively charged magnets.”
“Exactly.”
Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Griffin that smart?”
“He is.” Ames exhaled heavily. “Griffin is also a very powerful psychic himself.”
Dean frowned. “What? Why would he want to create a weapon like that?”
“Perhaps like Silas said…to even the playing field. No one better than Griffin would know the advantage that being psychic could herald, nor would anyone but a gifted psychic understand the nuances either.” Mackland pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now that I think about it, Griffin could have been working on this device years ago.”
“What makes you say that?”
Mac met the younger hunter’s puzzled gaze. “The kidnapping.”
Dean’s face remained blank. “You don’t remember?” Ames asked.
“I don’t remember much about the kidnapping, Mac. I remember Sam and Caleb …” Dean glanced away. “I was sick through most of it.” “I know.” Mackland didn’t like to think of that time either and he had been an adult-not a ten-year-old little boy fighting a nasty bout of pneumonia. Dean had come close to dying on that mountain. “I couldn’t locate you boys with my normal means. It was as if I was being blocked. If the box can prevent psychics from using their abilities it could also probably neutralize other frequencies also.”
“Creating a kind of invisibility cloak? Like Caleb’s snowflake obsidian trick.”
Mackland offered the younger hunter a faint smile. “Yes, obsidian offers a type of shield on a much smaller level.”
“Sam had some with him. Do you think that helped protect him from the box?”
“Possibly.”
Score one for Caleb. “Mac, could they die?”
“I don’t think that was Griffin’s intention.” Despite the mutinous acts against The Brotherhood, Porter was still not a typical murderer.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Luckily for Mackland, the silver bay doors opened, saving him from delivering an answer. A young man in scrubs entered the room.
“Is anyone here for Caleb Reaves and Johnathan Conner?”
“We are,” Ames quickly replied.
Dean and Mackland stood as the newcomer crossed the room, quickly coming to stand in front of them. He looked rather harried and slightly bedraggled.
“I’m Doctor Nelson. I’ve been overseeing Caleb and Johnathan’s treatment.”
Dean flinched slightly at the use of his father’s name. It had been Mac’s idea to establish new identities using their middle names and mother’s maiden name. Dean preferred using unrealistic pseudonyms like movie characters and rock stars. At least it allowed him to distance himself from any recriminations.
Mackland shook the man’s hand. “I’m Doctor Mackland Ames.” He gestured to Dean. “This is my nephew, Mathew.”
The physician offered them a faint smile. “Amanda informed me that you were a physician. One of my colleagues recognized your name, Dr. Ames?” Nelson quirked a brow. “You are that Dr. Ames. Correct?”
“I am if it allows me access to my son and nephew and warrants news of their conditions.”
Nelson nodded, turning to include Dean in his gaze. “I’m sorry for the long wait. Honestly we were having a hard time stabilizing them. The seizures were worrying us, as was the fluctuation in blood pressure.”
Dean clenched his fists. “How are they now?”
“The diazepam has finally stopped the seizing, and the blood pressure and heart rate evened out on its own.”
“That’s good.” Mackland nodded. “How about their respiratory functions?”
“Oxygen levels are good with Johnathan.” The doctor shifted under Mackland’s scrutiny. “Caleb’s are improving.”
“Can we see them?” Dean preferred to see Caleb and Sam. Touch was a much better indicator of life than all the medical jargon.
“We’re sending Johnathan up to ICU, and Caleb to radiology for further tests. How about we speak further in my office?”
“ICU?” Dean questioned as they followed after the physician through the silver doors along a corridor lined with wooden doors. “That can’t be good. I thought they were doing better?”
“I assure you it is mostly precautionary.” The doctor came to the last door on the left and stopped. “They need to be closely monitored at this point. I personally have never dealt with anyone struck by lightning.”
“Lightning?” Mackland asked, shooting Dean a quick look as they were ushered into the tiny office.
“Yes.” The doctor closed the door behind them. “Your nephew and son were injured in a storm early this morning.”
“You’re sure?” Mackland frowned, wondering how Dean had come up with that unlikely but brilliant theory.
“Pretty sure.” Nelson took a seat at his desk, opening a chart that was lying there. “As you probably know a lightning injury can cause fluctuations in heart rate, as well as nervous system damage along with breathing difficulties and seizures. Luckily, for your son and nephew, we believe this was a ‘splash’ injury instead of a direct strike. That would explain the lack of burns.”
D Dean frowned. “A splash injury?” He shot Mackland a sidelong glance, trying to convey his concern. He had gone along with Silas’s cover story because honestly he had no other reasonable explanation for the injuries. But at the time he didn’t know what that entailed. Maybe they should explain to the doctor what really happened-straight jackets and padded rooms be damned.
Ames held up his hand as if he read Dean’s train of thought. “The term ‘splash’ means that the current came through another source, Matthew.” Mackland raised a brow. “Like a meter box.”
“Or in this case- a tree,” Nelson explained.
Dean nodded. If Mackland believed the lightning story would get Sam and Caleb the treatment they needed then he would continue to play along. “Right.”
“I’m guessing that’s why you weren’t affected.” Nelson looked at Winchester. “I bet you weren’t standing near Caleb or Johnathan when this happened.”
“No.” Dean lied. “I was on the other side of the Bald when the freak storm came out of nowhere.”
Nelson scratched his head. “Yes. We’ve had several tragic accidents recently, all related to strange weather patterns.”
Dean felt Ames’s gaze on him and glanced out the window. “Yeah. Global warming’s a real bitch.”
Mackland took a deep breath. “So you were saying Johnathan and Caleb have stabilized. Have they regained consciousness?”
Dean's gaze returned to the physician, who was frowning again. “No. That’s what has me concerned at this point. As you know lighting injuries can have far-reaching and profound consequences. From the MRI we did, their cerebral cortexes are lit up like a Christmas tree. I’ve never really seen anything like it.”
The doctor shook his head, mentally steering himself back on track. “If things go badly there could be frontal lobe or other neurological damage but in the best of scenarios Caleb and Sam will suffer from head injury type symptoms such as disorientation, nausea and headaches. We won’t truly know the extent of their injury until they awake.”
“But they will wake up. Right?” Dean watched the doctors exchange knowing looks.
“Mac?”
“Could you give me a moment alone with my nephew? Then I would like to see the test results you’ve ran on Johnathan and Caleb so far.”
“Of course.” The doctor stood, moving towards the door. “Radiology is on the third floor.” He glanced to Dean. “And you can see your brother as soon as he's settled. The ICU is on four.”
“Thank you, Dr. Nelson.” Mackland watched the man leave. He turned his gaze to Dean. “Lightning?”
Dean shrugged. “Silas came up with it off the cuff. I was a little too busy to develop anything original when I talked to the ER staff. But damn, Mac, tell me this lightning thing is worse than what Ian‘s fucking box could cause.”
“Silas must have known the effects would be so similar.” Ames glanced at his watch. “Dean, let me look at the scans before we jump to any conclusions.”
“I know you, Mac. You don’t jump to conclusions. What’re you thinking?”
The doctor recognized the stubborn set to the jaw and knew diversionary tactics would be useless. “I’m thinking that from what we have assumed about this box that Caleb and Sam have both endured an overload in their processing-which could have very similar ramifications to what one would experience after being struck by lightning.”
“They’ve been short-circuited,” Dean growled. “Like electrocuted?” He thought of his own experience with the Raw Head when he had been fried by the taser. “Could it damage their hearts?” God. He hadn’t even entertained that idea.
Mackland knew what the boy was relating to. “The attack was centralized to their brains, Son. I don’t think we’re going to see damage to any other major organ. This wasn’t a true electrical shock.”
“So, their hearts are okay, but they may not remember who they are or who we are. Hell, they may be a cucumber and a cumquat for all Dr. Nelson knows, and that's if they even wake up.”
Mac rubbed his stiff neck, trying to retain the objectivity and distance that would allow him to offer the most help not only to Caleb and Sam, but also to the young man in front of him. “Dean, when the brain or body experiences trauma, it shuts down.”
“For how long?”
Placating Dean had never been easy. But Mackland would persevere. He reached out and patted the boy’s knee. “As long as it takes.”
It was taking too long in Dean’s book. They had been at the hospital for over twenty-four hours. Mackland had assured him the neurological scans were promising. Dean wouldn’t be comforted until his brother and Caleb were talking and walking in their typical manner.
Dean had divided his time between researching lighting strike injuries and psychic phenomena in the cerebral cortex and sitting with Sam and Caleb when the nurses allowed. He drifted like a ghost between Sam’s room and Caleb’s. It helped that both were being held in the small intensive care unit where he felt close enough to both of them, even when they were out of direct eyeshot.
He had just finished reading Caleb the latest baseball scores when Mackland quietly entered the room. The doctor had spent his waking hours either on the phone, presumably on Scholar business or working alongside Dr. Nelson on lab results or further testing for Sam and Caleb. The last time Dean saw him, Mackland dragged him to the cafeteria for a terrible tasting burger and even less appetizing cup of coffee. “I’m not leaving.” Dean stated firmly before the doctor could open his mouth.
“Okay.” Mackland crossed the room, sitting on the edge of his son’s bed. He looked at Caleb and frowned before reaching up and brushing the too-long hair from his son’s forehead. Both Caleb and Sam could use a visit to Jim Murphy’s barber chair. “How’s he doing?”
Dean raised a brow. “You’re the doctor.”
Mackland didn’t miss the annoyed tone or the frustrated look Dean shot him as if he had joined up camps with the enemy. “I’m not holding out on you, Dean. I’ve told you everything we’ve learned from the tests.”
“I’m sick of the tests.” Dean leaned forward, jutted his chin towards Caleb. “They’re not some kind of experiment. Don’t think I haven’t noticed Nelson jotting down notes in that little book of his. He’s probably planning on writing for a medical journal to impress the great Mackland Ames.”
“He’s doing everything he can to help them.” Mackland glanced at his son once more. “So am I.”
“Does that include hunting down that bastard Griffin?” Dean demanded. “And Ian and Silas? They‘ll pay for this. Right?”
Mackland exhaled heavily. “I’ve got Bobby working on it. But, Dean, you have to understand there are forces at work here that you don’t understand.”
“I’m beginning to understand a lot of things, Mac.” Dean stood. “Like how The Brotherhood seems to be as much of a hindrance as the damn yellow-eyed demon.”
“That’s not true.” Mackland shook his head. “But the deaths of both The Guardian and The Knight have started a domino effect. Everyone is nervous and unsure and certain factions are taking advantage of that.”
“Certain factions being Griffin and his thugs.”
“Things surrounding Griffin are not so black and white, Son.” (
“Now you sound like him.” Dean nodded to Caleb. He moved around the unconscious psychic’s bed, leaned on the rails. Winchester let his gaze rest on the still form of his best friend. “He said we had to trust the other hunters. Look where that got him and Sammy.”
“Griffin can be persuasive, Dean. Some of his points may even be valid; despite the fact his methods are treacherous and underhanded. I have a feeling some of those close to him are not privy to depths he is willing to sink.”
Dean’s face flared red. “Are you defending Silas and Ian?”
“No.” Mackland snapped, uncharacteristically. “I have never trusted Ian, and I will see to it that he is punished.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Dean assured, his gaze going back to Caleb. “I owe him. And I’m not as forgiving as Caleb.”
“Caleb? Forgiving?” Mackland shook his head. “The last time I checked my son was far too much like John Winchester to be considered forgiving.”
“He works with Fisher, Ian, and Joshua even after they almost killed him. He talked me and Sammy into doing the same. How else do you explain it?” Dean didn’t bother to lower his voice. Maybe the heated discussion would do what all his pleading and coercing had not-wake Caleb and Sam. “Of course Jim must have been okay with it too, because he still let them have a ring.”
Mackland ran a hand over his hair. “Dean, Ian and Fisher already had a ring before the incident you’re talking about…and if you remember it was quite some time before Joshua received his.”
“So, Joshua got a slap on the wrist? That’s it? Is that all Ian and Silas are going to get for this?”
“No.” Mackland’s face darkened. “That is not all they will get. But we can’t go around exacting revenge. If we do we will look even more guilty and unfit to head The Brotherhood than we already do.”
“So what then, Mac?”
“You have to trust me, Dean. I know what I’m doing.”
“The trust thing is getting a little costly, Mac.”
Ames couldn’t help the hurt that flashed through his gray eyes. “You think I’d ever do anything to hurt Caleb? Or you and Sam? My God, Dean, you boys, Missouri and Bobby are the only family I have left.”
“Exactly.” Dean growled. “Screw The Brotherhood, Mac. The only people that matter don’t have anything to do with Griffin Porter and his plans for taking over the empire. They don’t want us in their club, and maybe we didn’t belong in it in the first place.”
“You know that’s not true. The Brotherhood is our legacy as much as our future. It brought us together, bound us in a common fight for good. It’s as ingrained in our family as much as any hunter that wears a ring.”
“Don’t you get it, Mac? They don’t want Caleb and Sam. They think they’re abominations. They think Jim was crazy for picking them to lead the next Triad." Mackland had tried to put the fact that Dean now knew about his brother’s position out of his mind. That unplanned occurrence could also be attributed to Griffin’s meddling. “Jim wasn’t crazy, Dean.”
“But did he do it for the right reasons?” Dean licked his lips, fought down the dark thoughts gnawing in his gut. “Was he hoping they would be some kind of secret weapon against the dark side?”
“What?” Mackland frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Ian said…” Dean blinked, glanced at Caleb and lowered his voice. “Ian said Caleb’s grandfather summoned the yellow-eyed demon. That he was possessed by him…and that Caleb…”
“Caleb’s what?” Mac moved around the bed, stepped toe to toe with Dean. “A demon?”
“No.” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Good. Because Caleb is as human as you and me, Dean.” Sometimes his son was too human for his own good. Mackland held Dean’s gaze, his voice softening. “So is Sammy. And you‘ve heard all these things before.”
“But that bastard Ian…”
“Ian is an ignorant fool. He’s only parroting unfounded rumors and theories of a madman.”
Some of it wasn’t unfounded and they both knew it. “Caleb reacts differently to holy water. Bobby’s stupid traps can block his abilities. When Duran tried to kill me…Caleb’s blood kept Echnon’s blade from working. And Sam…his abilities are so freakin’ similar. He was immune to the demon virus.”
Dean held Mackland’s disappointed gaze. “I don’t care Mac. It doesn’t matter to me.” Nothing would change how Dean felt about Sam and Caleb. Nothing. “But I want the fucking truth.” He needed to understand so it could not be used against him, as Ian and Silas had done.
Mackland took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “No one knows the truth, Dean. Daniel Elkins had a great conspiracy theory, which he latched onto with all the tenacity of a drowning man to a life preserver.”
“He found references in old hunters' journals about this man called Noah Seaver.”
Dean arched a brow. “Seaver was some kind of a cult leader?”
Ames nodded. “Before the term ‘cult’ was coined.” Mackland looked at Dean. “He was a preacher in a church out West in the late 1800’s. Hunters of that time believed he conjured a demon to ensure him immortality, but that it possessed Seaver instead-damning him to a lifetime of servitude.”
“And he knocked up his wife while he was host to the yellow eyed demon?”
Mackland sighed. “No one knows if it is the same demon. But hunters wrote that Seaver was possessed when he impregnated his young bride-as well as several other women in his congregation. The Brotherhood of that time feared the demon was attempting to create some kind of hybrid species that could walk among humans and retain demonic qualities. They believed the demon was trying to build an army or had some nefarious plan for the children.”
Dean swallowed thickly. It all sounded far too familiar. “Plans?”
The doctor didn’t answer, but continued with his story. “Seaver killed his whole congregation. Burned the church down around them before The Brotherhood could stop him. But some believe his wife escaped, along with her infant son. Years later sketchy details surfaced about her gruesome murder and the boy’s disappearance.”
Mackland himself had gone through the journals with a fine-toothed comb. In the beginning he had been driven by curiosity. Then, as his bond cemented with Caleb Reaves, and his love for his son grew so did his determination to prove Elkin’s theory wrong. It was beyond frustrating. He could find no evidence to completely support either hypothesis.
“A boy who would have been Caleb’s grandfather?” Dean asked, his voice tearing Ames from his morose thoughts.
“Perhaps.” Mackland rested a hand on his son’s leg; unable to escape the feeling he was betraying the boy’s deepest darkest secret to the one person that meant the most to Caleb. He prayed it wouldn’t change things. He had enough faith in Dean to believe it wouldn’t. “Daniel tried to convince Jim that Noah’s wife did escape and that to protect herself and her child rearranged the letters of the tainted surname of Seaver to Reaves.”
“That was Elkin’s proof? Reaves and Seaver contain the same letters? A fucking anagram? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Daniel’s prowess in all things demon is legendary. Despite his later bouts with insanity, he was quite brilliant. He trained Bobby, as well as your father. Elkins’s own father was a legendary hunter in his own right.” Mackland rubbed a finger over his brow. “And of course the fact that sulfur was found at the beach house where Caleb’s parents died and at the scene of Caleb’s foster parents’ murder added some validity and weight to his argument.”
“Damn it.” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Do the other hunters know all this?”
“Most of the inner circle, those with influence like Harland Sawyer, Silas Fox and others Jim trusted. But it isn’t as far-reaching as it seems. Most of our kind has paid it little mind until now…”
“Now that the thing with Sam and the other children has been in the forefront?”
Mackland nodded. “And due to the fact that both The Guardian and The Knight are dead.”
Dean gave him an incredulous look. “Not to mention that the proposed successors are linked to a demonic plan to take over the world?”
“It isn’t like they believe your brother and Caleb are the yellow-eyed-demon’s children.”
“Are you sure that isn’t exactly what they think?”
Mackland wrinkled his nose. “Damned if you do not share Jim Murphy’s flair for the dramatic.”
“We need him here.”
Mackland met the insistent green gaze. “We need someone strong enough to take his place.”
Dean dismissed the conversation, his gaze returned to Caleb. “Ian, Fisher and Joshua knew about Caleb when he was a kid?”
“Yes. Despite Jim’s attempts to shield Caleb, there was a point when he had to let him join the ranks if he was ever going to be a hunter. It was hard for me to go along with that…and believe it or not, it was hardest for your father.”
Dean didn’t look surprised. “Dad’s first priority was keeping his family safe. Whether he went about it in the right way or not.”
“I always trusted him with Caleb.” Mackland stepped forward,
reaching out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder. “Just as I trust you.”