Chapter 3

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."-

James Baldwin

James understood Gentry's urgency when they entered the bedroom at the end of the hall. From the looks of Gentry's son, the poor kid's time was almost up. Not even the aroma of dinner could mask the distinct smell of sickness and something James innately recognized as death. He let his gaze go from the emaciated boy in the bed to Ben, who had made his way to his feet upon their entrance.

Ben was wearing a gray t-shirt proclaiming him a participant in the 'Save Second Base' marathon and faded ratty jeans. The stethoscope around his neck looked out of place with his attire and running shoes. There were two other people in the room, a woman who James assumed was Gentry's wife and another man younger than Gentry sitting in a chair in the corner.

"Jimmy?"Ben took a step towards James, the confusion in his green eyes quickly being replaced by concern. "What in the world are you doing here? Is something wrong? Is it Dad?"

James opened his mouth to reply but a not so gentle reminder from Gentry's gun kept him quiet. When he didn't respond, Ben looked to Gentry for an answer.

"Hank? What's going on?"

"We're so sorry, Ben," the woman spoke. Her voice was breathy, barely above a whisper but easily heard in the silence that had descended like a thick fog around them. She brought a hand to her throat, moving from the edge of her son's bed. "You've been kind to us and Cy these last few months. We didn't want to do this."

"Come over here by me, Helen," Gentry ordered.

James watched Helen run a hand over her son's head before doing as her husband asked. He placed her in her forties, strawberry blond hair caught up in a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes, red blotches along her cheeks. James couldn't get a read on her feelings, empty space like what surrounded her husband, but he imagined hopelessness and desperation would be foremost. He was thankful he could not read thoughts like his uncles; a backwash of sketchy feelings was often more than enough, more than he ever asked for.

"Ben, move away from Cy."

"What? Why?" James's brother was slower to respond to Hank's command. When he did take a couple of steps away from the bed his eyes never left James. "Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!"

"You have to understand." The woman continued talking to Ben, giving James a wide birth as she circled to stand behind her husband. "It was the only way."

It was obvious that Ben didn't understand. He tilted his head in a manner so much like their father that James felt the connection like a quick punch to the gut. His brother's gaze trailed Helen, eyes narrowing to slits of green. "Understand what? Why is my brother here?"

"We've decided on a new treatment plan." Once his wife was out of the way, Gentry gave James a hard shove towards Ben. At the same time he revealed the gun he'd kept shielded behind James's back. "My son isn't dying today."

Ben caught James as he stumbled forward. His eyes moved from the cuff still dangling around James's bruised wrist to his face. He brought a hand alongside James's neck. "Jimmy? Are you hurt?"

James licked his lips, the smart ass reply he wanted to offer fleeing as bile burned like acid in the back of his throat. For the last five hours he had maintained a good front, kept it together even though he thought Gentry was going to kill him. Seeing Ben, sensing his own shock and fear mirrored in his brother nearly had him coming undone.

"Hey?" Ben's grip was firm, cool against his skin. "Answer me."

"I'm fine." It was a running joke in their family. Saying you were fine could very easily mean you were missing a few limbs and bleeding out.

"Good to hear." Ben's mouth twitched before he swung his gaze to Gentry. He leveled the sheriff with a look reserved for supernatural villains and cocky first year medical residents. "Are you out of your mind?"

"That would be the consensus."James let out a heavy exhale, emboldened by the fact he was no longer alone. He pushed his momentary hysteria back to the dark pit where it belonged. He straightened so he was shoulder to shoulder with Ben. James had nearly caught up to his oldest brother in height, although JT's 6'3 stature remained the elusive gold ring he was striving for. "Gentry grabbed me from the farm this morning, locked Mary and Josie in The Tomb."

Ben moved towards Gentry but the sound of a shotgun being primed had him drawing up short. James turned to see that the man in the corner was now standing, well-armed and covering them as well.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Doc. I haven't used a gun since my tour in the war, but I believe it's like riding a bicycle."

"It's alright, Rodney," Gentry kept his weapon trained on James. "Dr. Winchester just needs a minute to cool off, wrap his head around things. His logic will kick in soon enough."

"What the hell have you done, Hank? How is kidnapping my brother going to help Cy? "Ben gestured to his lifeless patient in the bed. "His doctors have done everything possible. I told you my findings concluded with theirs. The tumor is inoperable. He would die on the table. I wasn't being stubborn when I told you I wouldn't operate. I was being kind."

"I don't think he plans on you operating, bro." James had hours to think about what Gentry's big plan might be. He hadn't known about the man's son until Ben was added to the equation, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand what Echnon's Blade, Duran Hughes and James Winchester all had in common-ties to the other side. "He took Echnon's Blade from The Tomb, along with Duran Hughes's journal."

Ben's brow wrinkled in confusion prompting James to expound his explanation. It seemed he was the only one of his brothers who actually took up their Uncle Sam's challenge of knowing Brotherhood history chapter and verse. "Magical knife, capability to switch souls into other more viable bodies hence holding the potential for immortality."

"I'm not looking for immortality!" Gentry snapped. "I just want what's fair, damn it. One lifetime for my boy. He deserves that." He jabbed the gun at James. "I told you to keep your smart mouth shut, kid."

Ben stepped in front of James, facing off with Hank. "You really think you can save Cy with some supernatural sleight of hand?"

"You gave me the idea yourself, Winchester." Gentry glanced to his wife, then back to Ben. "After your last run of tests before my boy slipped into a coma. I heard you talking to his doctor. You said what Cy really needed was a new body."

"I meant that figuratively. It most definitely was not a suggestion." Ben ran a hand over his mouth. "In theory, all my patients need a new body. It's every doctor's dream, especially when the patient is as young as Cy, with so much promise. Unfortunately, bodies can't be harvested, Hank. Have you thought about that? Just where do you plan on getting a new body for your son?"

"I've taken care of it," Gentry replied. "A lot of scum walking the earth these days, perfectly healthy pieces of shit that take every breath for granted. I see it every day. Checks and balances are all out of skew. Cy's donor is cooling his heels in lock up down at the station waiting for arraignment on charges of drug trafficking, gang activity."

"You're going to add murder to your bad guy resume?" James was sketchy on the specifics of Echnon's Blade, but he was pretty certain it did not spell good news for the potential host. The knife itself had healing properties, but the human body was not equipped to hold two spirits. It was why the longer a person was possessed, the less the chance of survival for the original occupant. "Soul swapping isn't like possession. Somebody has to go. The blade makes sure that happens."

"A two bit, punk ass drug dealer who never contributed one good thing to society during the nineteen years he's been granted on this planet, versus my son." Hank shook his head. "No contest."

"Hank, you're a hunter," Ben tried to reason with the man. "You know there is always a price when you cheat death. Your son is dying and now you've brought this kind of pain to your doorstep. Do you realize what my father is going to do to you?"

"I don't care what The Guardian does to me." Hank gestured between himself and Helen. Her eyes were filled with silent tears, and she was trembling. James understood why she looked so rough, as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Not only was she losing her son, she had agreed to sign her husband's death warrant as well, possibly even her own. "We understand the costs. It's worth it to save our boy."

"Who is this Guardian anyway?" Rodney with the shotgun interrupted. "He has no authority over Hank and my sister. What they do with their boy is none of his concern."

"Stay out of this Rodney," Gentry said.

"No. I won't stay out of it." Rodney pointed to Cy. "My nephew is dying and you believe these people can help him. All these years I thought you belonged to something like the Masons, with your special ring and secret meetings. Now you tell me it's some kind of hunting club, only with ghosts and magic. It's a little hard to swallow, especially once you throw in this Guardian bit. It all sounds like you're wrapped up in the mafia, or some freakish cult."

"We're not a cult," James defended. "But The Godfather reference is close. Prepare yourself to be sleeping with the fishes very soon."

"Jimmy." Ben gave him a look suggesting he was not helping before he leveled his gaze on Gentry once more. "Hank, you've exposed an outsider to Brotherhood business, risking even more lives." He gestured to Rodney. "The Guardian won't have the luxury of letting him go if you do what you're planning. Did you tell him this stunt would cost him his life? Stop this now."

"No." Gentry shook his head. "I've come too far. Your brother is going to use Echnon's Blade."

James felt his heart kick up a notch, all the confidence he'd recovered upon being reunited with Ben disappeared. Gentry didn't plan on picking his brain, but instead intended for James to play a more active role in the ceremony.

"Why involve my brother?" Ben demanded. "He doesn't have a ring. He's a kid, Cy's age."

James's gaze was drawn once more to the boy in the bed. He thought of his friends from school, the guys on his soccer team. James would have placed Cy, with his bald head and slight frame, more near Mary and Josie's age than his own.

"A medium has to use the blade, someone capable of channeling a soul. I know what James is. Your father might have worked hard at keeping his freak of a son secret, but he failed miserably. Word gets around, especially where the future Triad is concerned."

"Shut your mouth…" Ben started.

"I can't channel." James spoke without thought, his body tensing of its own accord. Couldn't, wouldn't-it was all the same to James. He had his insecurities about his abilities, what it meant to The Guardian for him to have a psychic son; the position he might play in a future Triad; but at the moment James's self protection instinct was stronger. To channel a spirit meant he would not only have to physically come into contact with the ghost's essence, but essentially become its host, letting it take over his body before wrestling it into submission. "No fucking way!"

"Take it easy," Ben caught his arm again. "This is not going to go that far."

"Damn straight it's not." James shook his head, pointing a finger at Gentry. "Fuck you and your kid! I'm not doing it. You're beyond crazy if you think I am." He'd had incidences where ghosts had reached out for more than just a conversation with him. Communicating with the dead wasn't always like having a random conversation with a living person. Sometimes James could see the ghosts but couldn't hear the ghosts; sometimes he heard them but didn't see them. Frustration could cause the spirits to want to give him a full effects recap of their past life. Or some wanted to hijack his body to have a more physical experience with a loved one. Either way, physical contact was not only painful, but terrifying.

The pain he could deal with, the loss of control was another story. It was like swallowing death, or worse being enveloped by it. Channeling was too close to possession, too close to the things they hunted. Mac always tried to reframe it, to point out the myths of Merlin's gift to The Scholar, extraordinary psychic ability. Future Scholar or not, James refused to practice that part of his abilities, and no one had pushed him to expand. He might not be able to do anything about seeing ghosts or hearing them, but he sure as hell could avoid touching them, or worse, letting them touch him. He most definitely was not going to willingly invite a spirit to share his body like some supernatural parasite.

"This isn't a negotiation." Gentry made a point of releasing the safety on his gun. "I didn't risk everything to bring you here to discuss the possibility of you helping me."

"I think you're overlooking a very important point, Hank." Ben was still trying to be the voice of reason. "Cy isn't dead."

"And remember you're on a tight time schedule." James wanted to remind Gentry that The Triad would know he was missing now; they would have more than enough information to come straight to Hank's door. "Our dad will be here any time."

"Lucky for us your brother has the drugs that will speed the process along."

It was Ben's turn to look astounded. "You want me to kill your son?"

"I want you to end his suffering so his life can start again!"

"You are crazy." Ben shook his head. "I won't have a part in murder, no matter what your motive."

The gunshot was unexpected, but James didn't startle. He kept staring at Hank's weapon, which was still pointed at his chest. Instead of accepting the very real possibility that he was about to die, James's first thoughts were for the silencer. The damn thing hadn't worked. The blast was deafening in the small room.

"Helen!" Only when Gentry's voice registered his genuine surprise and the man swung his gaze to his wife did James's panic kick in.

"It had to be done. We have to get started," Helen was rambling. "The boy's got to do it."

The woman's words ceased to make sense, fading to back ground noise like waves at the beach as James looked at Ben. His brother's wide, unblinking gaze held his for only a moment before traveling to his stomach where a wash of deep red blossomed like spilled ink across his faded gray shirt.

"Ben!" James moved forward just as his brother's knees buckled. He caught him by the shoulders, both of them going to their knees on the floor. "God, Ben."

Ben inhaled sharply, his head bent, chin resting on his chest as he took a couple of quick breaths through his nose. "I'm okay, Jimmy. It's okay."

"No you're not." James fought the urge to let go of his brother, the primal emotions passing between them setting every nerve on edge. Pure shock, the body's first line of defense was vicious; multiply the pins and needles sensation of when a hand or foot falls asleep by ten and you would have an idea of the way the feeling sizzled through James. He longed for his own mojo bag, the psychic shield he was slowly trying to wean himself off of in lieu of his own mental barriers. It had taken him four years to gain control of his blocks. It was brutally humbling that all his training could be eradicated in one disastrous moment. "You're shot!"

"Your observation skills are awesome, little brother." Ben lifted his head, offering a quick smile that quickly morphed into a grimace.

"Shut up, Asshole." James was pissed. He tightened his hold on his brother as the first wave of pain filtered through their physical connection.

Ben groaned, curling over, his forehead pressing against James's shoulder. "I can't believe she shot me. It's what I get for doing a house call."

"Take it easy, Man. Just breathe." James brought one had to the back of Ben's neck, holding on to him as he turned to seek out Gentry. "Just don't stand there, call an ambulance!"

Hank still had his gun pointed at them, but he'd claimed the small .38 from his wife. Helen had a hand over her mouth, her dark watery eyes fixed on her son. "Did you hear me, you stupid bastard? Ben needs help."

Gentry looked at him, the cool veil of indifference back in place. "And he'll get it as soon as you help Cy." Hank moved his gaze to Rodney. "Take Helen into the kitchen and fix her a cup of tea, then come help me move the prisoners into the guest room we prepared."

"Fuck that!" The whole family was insane. "Your crazy wife shot my brother. I'm not doing anything for you until I know he's going to be alright."

"Jimmy. Focus." Ben's breathing was faster. He gripped a handful of James's shirt. "We need to stop the bleeding."

"You better listen to your brother." Gentry moved toward the bed, picking up a black bag James recognized as the one Grandpa Mac had given Ben when he graduated from college. He tossed it on the floor beside James. "Patch him up and get ready to move. He can rest while you do the research you'll need in Hughes's journal. I won't be gone long. The station's close by."

James was speechless. On the drive he prepared himself for whatever Gentry was planning to do to him. He accepted the fact he might die. James never imagined losing Ben as one possible scenario. "I'll help you. I promise, just take care of him now."

Gentry shook his head. "Don't push me, Kid. I didn't want Ben to get hurt, but your stubbornness forced our hand. This is your fault." Gentry kicked the bag closer to James. "I'll pick up Cy's new body, we'll perform the ceremony and then and only then I'll have the paramedics here. Move!"

"Jimmy." Ben pushed away from him, reclaiming his attention. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead; his eyes reflecting the misery he was in. "Just do what he says. It'll be okay."

James blinked away tears of frustration, the exact words he'd said to placate Mary and Josie a haunting reminder that his brother was trying to protect him from the reality at hand. He had a dark suspicion that nothing would be simply okay from this day forward. "You're a shitty liar, Ben."

"Cut me some slack." Ben swallowed hard, but managed another fleeting grin. "I'm shot."

James rolled his eyes, not trusting his voice. He eased Ben the rest of the way to the floor, ignoring Gentry who had pulled out his cell phone and started a muffled conversation. James dragged the medical bag closer to them, keeping one hand resting on Ben's chest as he dug for the bandages.

"I don't think it's too bad," Ben raised his head, his hands lifting the corner of his shirt. "Patients can survive a bullet wound for days before septicemia sets in. Bleedin…shock…is what we have to worry about."

James reached up and put his hand on Ben's forehead, forcing his brother to stay down. "Isn't there some kind of saying about a doctor who treats himself having a fool for a patient?"

Ben attempted a laugh, which came out sounding more a guttural groan. "I think…that's a lawyer representing himself, Bro."

"Uncle Sam would know." James bit his lip as he moved Ben's blood-soaked shirt out of the way. His first look at the bullet wound had him praying his uncles and his dad would hurry the hell up. He'd treated gashes and breaks, but none of them had ever been shot on a hunt.

"It's okay." Ben seemed to read his trepidation. James cursed his shaking hand, refusing to look at his brother as he tried to uncap the antiseptic wash. He'd always prided himself on the fact he could hide his emotions, not guilty of wearing his feelings on his sleeve like JT nor was he overly effusive like Ben. James was the cool, collected Winchester. "All bullet wounds look bad. Just use a pressure bandage. It'll hold me over. I'm not going anywhere, Jimmy. I promise."

"Shut up and let me work." James blinked, running a quick hand under his eyes. He felt the sticky smear of blood across his cheek; the sharp metallic twang seemed to coat his mouth, causing his stomach to twist. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "And, it's James, Asshole."

"James." Ben reached up and caught his hand, his fingers leaving another bloody smear that James found pulled his gaze. Only when Ben tightened his grip did he find it in himself to look his brother in the eye. "This isn't your fault. Gentry's pushing your buttons. Got it?"

"I got it." James gave a tight nod before returning his focus to the bandaging. On any good day he was a much better liar than JT and Ben, another family trait he'd seemed to have gotten more than his fair share of. But Ben wasn't some girl James was trying to score with, or one of the guys he was trying to scam into one of his schemes or bad ideas. Ben was his brother, his family, and a huge weak spot in James's defenses. It was too damn bad that Mary had missed the mark by a mile when she had said Gentry made a mistake in choosing James. Hank Gentry had apparently done his research all too well.