Chapter 4

"Our deepest fear is that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."-Marianne Williamson

Time seemed to slow, each minute creeping as James helped Ben down the long hallway. He wanted Hank to hurry and leave so he could get back with the unlucky con he'd chosen for Cy's reincarnation. James wasn't sure what he was going to do when presented with actually performing the ritual; but he refused to let Ben be forfeit. His racing thoughts were interrupted as Gentry stopped in front of a steel door with two slide bolts and a metal bar.

"Let me guess, you hired the same interior decorator you use at your precinct." James shifted to take more of Ben's weight, glad his brother did more running and swimming than weightlifting.

"I wanted to discourage any attempts at escape. I hoped to keep anyone from getting hurt." Gentry opened the door, gesturing James and Ben ahead of him. James's observation wasn't off its mark. The room was an odd hybrid, part guest bedroom, part Bobby's panic room. Metal bars covered the windows, the overhead light fixture was removed, one bare bulb burning. The walls were painted a pale yellow, a border of daisies sitting atop the crown molding. A white four-poster bed with tiny roses adorning the headboard was shoved in the corner. A down comforter and a colorful assortment of pillows covered the bed. The only other furniture was a small table and chair, a rocker with a quilt draped over the back.

James shook his head. "Yet, the creepy décor gives us only more reason to want to get as far away as possible."

"Ben should be comfortable enough." Gentry tossed the bag he'd brought from the farm on the table, along with Ben's doctor's satchel. "Hughes's journal is in the duffel. You might want to refresh yourself on the specifics. I'm holding onto the blade in case you get any ideas."

James moved to the bed, easing Ben to the mattress. His brother tried to stifle a groan, but didn't quite manage. James squeezed his shoulder. "Isn't this where one of us is supposed to tell him how he's not going to get away with this?"

"It's in the script of every action movie ever made." Ben met his gaze, determined not to be outdone. "Knock yourself out."

"Why bother?" James took a seat on the mattress beside Ben, keeping their conversation loud enough for Gentry. "The bad guys never listen then they look so surprised when their plans are foiled and they find themselves royally fucked in the end."

"It'll be the same for old Hank," Ben agreed. "I guarantee you he'll be shocked when The Guardian takes his ring."

"His ring?" James finally turned to face Gentry. "I was thinking more about the dumbfounded expression on his face when Dad puts a bullet in his head."

Hank didn't take the bait. He met James's challenging look with calm resolve that would have been impressive if James hadn't wanted with every fiber of his being to pound the self-assured expression off his ugly face. If the man was pretending to be confident, his acting was Emmy worthy. "I'll be back here within the hour. I'll expect you to be ready."

James didn't give a verbal response, letting the universal crude gesture of body language convey his sentiment for him.

"Nice," Ben muttered as the door slammed with a resounding thud. The clang of the metal bar rang with finality. "Real nice."

"What?" James feigned innocence. "You're always on me about open and honest communication. I'm just expressing my feelings."

"Sometimes restraint is called for." Ben brought a hand to his side, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled in a deep breath through his nose. "Like when dealing with teachers, parents, persons of authority or your run of the mill well-trained killer."

"Now, you tell me." James bit his lip, not liking the pale, waxy sheen his brother's skin had taken. He cleaned the wound as best he could with the supplies they had. His brother needed a real doctor, a stocked ER. Ben kept telling him there was time, he was doing a fine job. The bullet was still in there, and none of Ben's reassurances were going to allay James's fear.

"You've not been listening, Jimmy." Ben kept his eyes closed, his breathing measured.

"Yeah, I guess not." James didn't have the energy to correct the nickname. He slid a hand over his brother's hair before standing. What Ben said was true. He didn't hear much these days, especially if the conversation had anything to do with how he was messing up his life, how he was acting irresponsibly. His father threatened at the rate he was going James would never get a hunter's ring. James wasn't sure he wanted one. It seemed apathy for The Brotherhood set in sometime after his thirteenth birthday, along with selective deafness; but he was definitely paying attention now, recalling what Ben had said about shock.

He grabbed the pillows beside Ben, using them to prop up his brother's feet. James moved to get the quilt from the rocker. The fact someone was now sitting in the chair brought him to a complete stop.

"Sonofa…" James blamed being caught off guard on the fact his shields were taxed from worry, his nerves too far gone to give him a clue something else was with them. With Caleb's help he'd almost mastered his ghost alarm. It was hard for a spirit to catch him by surprise these days. "Who the hell are you?"

"You can see me?" The kid was a little shorter than James, bulkier. His muscled frame rippled beneath a green and yellow tee as he scrambled to his feet. His face instantly brightened with a huge grin, a sure sign the guy was recently departed. It didn't take long for the dead to get frustrated by their condition. "You can, can't you?"

"I don't have time for this shit." James grabbed the blanket, ignoring the apparition. It was rare he could see and hear a spirit so easily, but he wasn't in the position to hypothesize. "Tonight is not your lucky night, Casper. Go haunt someone else."

"Casper?" The boy touched his shirt which had, of all things, a dragon on the front of it. James thought of the silver dragon pendant resting beneath his own shirt, the similar one he knew Ben was wearing. "You mean the friendly ghost?"

"Antiquated, but still a good reference, though most of you aren't very amiable." On the contrary. Ghosts were usually pissed off, belligerent. They were always wanting something from James.

"Who are you talking to?" Ben opened his eyes when James moved to his side.

"Nobody." James spread the blanket over his brother's legs, leaving his upper body uncovered for the moment. James would need to recheck the bandage. "Just thinking aloud." The last thing Ben needed was something else to worry about. Staying alive was his priority mission. One James would not allow him to fail.

"I'm not a ghost, Dude." The spirit was undaunted, shadowing James to Ben's bed. "At least I wasn't the last time I checked."

"It's always hard to accept at first. Give it a few decades, it'll set in." James focused his thoughts as he walked to the table to retrieve Ben's medical bag. He visualized the image of drawing a dark black curtain about him. He couldn't completely cut himself off from the world of the supernatural for long, but he could manage a reprieve. Most times spirits got bored with waiting, unable to wield the power to seep through his blocks. It was only the older ghosts and poltergeists that presented a problem. They were like leeches, latching on with the tenacity of a pit bull. He lifted Ben's shirt where blood had already soaked through the pressure bandage.

"Decades? Man, I don't think Ben has decades."

James growled deep in his throat as the spirit reappeared by Ben's bed. The fact the ghost was obviously young should have made it easy to block out, but it was still beside him, yammering on without restraint. It pissed him off to the extent he almost missed what the guy said. Almost. "Wait. How do you know…"

"James?" Ben's voice was laced with pain.

James looked from his brother back to the spirit. The guy was staring at him with clear, almost translucent blue eyes- Gentry's eyes. His strawberry blond hair was the color of Helen's, shaggy, falling over his forehead in one of the unkempt styles Max was prone to sport in his attempts to appear surfer-like. He looked nothing like the wasted boy in the bed, but James knew with certainty the apparition before him was one in the same. "Holy shit. You're Cy."

"Cy?" Ben tried to rise from the bed, his breathing becoming short pants. "Jimmy, what the hell is going on?"

"Yeah. It's me. Cyril Gentry." The kid nodded, his big easy grin back in place.

James placed a hand on his brother's chest, keeping him still. "Take it easy. Cy's here-at least part of him is." It explained why James hadn't sensed anything, why his shields had failed. It also explained why the communication was easier. Cy wasn't a ghost; technically, he was something else, the very thing that kept James from visiting hospitals. Modern medicine might have provided miracles, but machinery didn't always stop a body from 'giving up the ghost'.

"Cy's dead?" Ben rested against the pillow. "Shit."

"Not exactly. He's a tourist." It's what James called those 'visiting' the space usually reserved for the dead.

"Tourist?" Cy frowned. "That would make this the lamest vacation ever. I've been trying to talk to someone for what seems like a week now, although I'm not sure of time anymore. I'm so glad you're here. You're James Winchester. My dad said you were a medium."

"Forgive me if I'm not so excited to make your acquaintance." James jutted his chin towards Ben. He sat the medical bag on the mattress in front of him. "My brother's been shot."

"I know." Cy ran a hand through his messy locks. "Crazy, right? My mom's gone bat shit. I couldn't believe it when I heard the shots and popped in there."

"Popped in?" James found the anchored spirits harder to deal with. Mac theorized it was because they were still connected to their human forms, unable to completely enter the plane where James and the dead shared space. They didn't fall under James's umbrella of control, so he chose to have little contact, thus knew only the bare minimum of details.

"I don't like to stay in there with my body. It totally freaks me out." Cy folded his arms over his chest, rubbing his upper arms as if a sudden chill had raced through him. "It looks nothing like me, man. Dying sucks."

"Jimmy." Ben latched onto James's arm. "What's he saying?"

"Nothing important." James didn't want to think about death with the sound of Ben's labored breathing unnaturally loud in the room, the metallic smell of his blood overpowering. He moved through the wavering form of Cyril Gentry to take a seat on the bed beside Ben. "Let's check you out, Doogie."

"Tell him I'm sorry I couldn't help him." Ben ignored the nickname their father tagged him with during med school. James wasn't sure of the reference, but it was satisfying enough that his brother was usually annoyed by the comparison.

"Save your breath, Dude." James wasn't in the mood for Ben's one track mind; especially in light of the fact the pressure bandage he had used was now completely crimson. His brother wanted to save everyone, an honorable mission James was sure he'd either inherited from their father, or taken up because of the loss of his mother. Either way, the reverence for life had ultimately put his brother in jeopardy. Ben sure as hell didn't owe Cy an apology, nor did he have the energy to spare to attempt one.

"Tell him I'm the one who is sorry." Cy had moved closer to Ben, standing near the head of the bed. "Ben leveled with me from the beginning, treated me like a person, not just a case. He's a straight shooter, a good doctor."

"And he got a bullet for his trouble." James glared at the spirit. "Move away from my brother."

"I didn't want him to get hurt. I tried to warn him when he showed up this morning." Cy's form wavered, but he stayed where he was. "I was afraid something bad would happen after my dad started making those crazy plans. I tried to talk to him, but nobody can hear me. I tried to get back in my body thinking I might wake up, but it was a no go."

"Getting back in your body isn't an option. Tourists have a one way destination, no return trips allowed." James opened the medical bag, getting the clean gauze he would need.

"Jimmy…" Ben started.

"What? We don't have time for an exchange of pleasantries." James put the new supplies aside, taking care in removing the soiled bandage, Ben's hands fisted in the sheets. James sent another glare in Cy's direction as he tossed the bloodied gauze in a small waste can near his feet. "His father's crazy plan is currently underway."

"I can't change what my dad has done, but I want to help stop him from hurting anyone else," Cy watched James redress the wound. "I want to help Ben. Really."

"Can you unlock the door, and get rid of your crazy uncle? Can you get me a phone? " James knew that unless Cy was some kind of anomaly, none of those things would be possible. It took time for spirits to gain strength; the ability to be seen by humans was difficult, let alone mastering manipulating anything with matter. As far as he knew, tourists were completely impotent.

"I don't think so, man." Cy stretched his hands out in front of him, staring at them. He looked stricken, and if Ben hadn't been bleeding out in front of him James might have been empathetic to the other teen's plight. "I move through everything."

"I was being sarcastic." James shook his head at the other teen's naiveté "Trust me when I say, you're not going to be of much use to Ben."

Ben closed his eyes. "Dad will get here in time."

"The Guardian's coming here?" Cy asked.

"Eventually." James tied off the bandage, wishing he could embrace his brother's faith. The blood on his hands made it hard. The fact their father was in South Carolina, logistically a good twelve to fourteen hours away, depending on location, further dampened his childhood belief that The Guardian could move mountains if need be.

"Damn." Cy started to pace. "I've always wanted to meet him. I thought it would be when I got my ring, but that's not going to happen now is it?"

"Not likely." James cleaned his hands with an alcohol wipe. "Your entire family is probably going to be erased from Brotherhood history."

Cy drew up short in front of James. "You think he'll kill my dad?"

James looked from Cy to Ben, whose pallor now matched the color of the starched sheets. "What do you think?"

"Oh man." Cy brought his hands up to grip at his hair. "I think The Guardian's going to be pissed. We've got to stop my dad from doing this before he messes up everything."

"That's an understatement." James didn't know if Cy was always so slowwitted or if being caught in the throes of dying had something to do with it. "The Guardian's going to destroy your father, but there's still a chance for your mom and uncle."

"Jimmy…" Ben opened his eyes, the look of reproof easily reflecting in his glassy green gaze.

"What?" James groaned. "It's the truth." His brother wasn't privy to Cy's side of the conversation, but could glean enough to realize that James wasn't taking measures to be overly kind or gentle about breaking the news.

"Don't be an ass." Ben's tone left no room for reproach.

"Don't judge me." James grumbled as Ben continued to stare at him with a good mixture of pain and disappointment. Despite all his instincts, James reached deep down to find a modicum of what his brother expected from him. He turned to Cy. "Look, it's not like I think you got cancer on purpose."

"Wow." Cy brought his fists down, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's really good of you, Winchester. You really are a bigger dick than everyone says."

"I'm a dick? Why? Because I call things like I see them. I thought you appreciated the honest approach?" James stood, his temper flaring at the other teen's sudden attitude. "My brother is bleeding to death because he came here to help you. It might not be your fault specifically, but it is definitely not his fault, nor my fault that your whole family is fucked up."

"No one talks about my family and gets away with it." Cy flickered out of sight, only to reappear directly in front of James. His chest puffed out and by the look on his face he was prepared to do battle. The heat in his blue eyes was unmistakable.

"You have got to be kidding me." James was so familiar with the encounter, school hallways, school cafeteria, on the soccer field. He seemed to have a knack for bringing out the worst in people. Fighting had become a hobby. James hadn't tried non-corporeal contact with a tourist, but there was a first time for everything. He was always up for a challenge.

"Take back what you said." Cy raised his fists.

"Not happening.""James squared off with the other teen. "No one shoots my brother and gets away with it!"

"Jimmy…"

"What?" James snarled at Ben.

"You're yelling at a ghost..." Ben gestured in the air, grimacing with the movement.

"I'm not a ghost." Cy made a pitiful attempt to pound one meaty fist against his chest. He looked mortified when his hand passed straight through. James almost felt bad for him.

Ben let his hand drop to the bed. "It proves Max's theory that you could get in a pissing contests with your shadow, but it's pretty lame even for you."

It wasn't the irrefutable logic, but the way Ben's words ran together and slurred that instantly doused James's anger.

"Damn it." He ran his hands through his hair, taking a step back from Cy. He took a deep breath, remembering the breathing exercise Uncle Caleb had taught him. He looked from Ben to Cy. James knew he was being an idiot. "Ben's right. I'm sorry I lost my cool. This really isn't your fault."

"I get it. He's your brother. You're worried." Cy deflated, dropping his hands to his sides, his shoulders falling. "I'm worried, too."

James returned his gaze to Ben. "With good reason."

"I still think I could have taken you, Winchester, even if I am one big pile of ectoplasm."

"You wish." James forced a smile to soften the truth. In another time, he and Cy might have been friends, soldiers on the same battle field. "Ectoplasm would be a huge step up. You're more like an echo off a distant mountain, smoke and mirrors."

Cy rolled his eyes. "You really know how to make a guy feel better."

"Hey, I leave the bedside manner to Ben." James reclaimed his seat on the bed by his brother. "Speaking of, how you doing, Doc?"

"Better since you called off the supernatural rumble." A shadow of a grin crossed Ben's face. "I'd so hate to see one of my comatose cancer patients kick your ass, little brother."

"Good to see your sense of humor is as inappropriate as ever."

"He's a lot funnier than you." James looked up at Cy's comment. The other teen was watching him. "And JT is a lot nicer than you."

"You know JT?"

Cy shrugged a shoulder, a shadow of his smile returning. "I met him once at a Sox game. He was awesome. Definitely not a dick."

"So they tell me." James laughed at the irony. Even as a kidnapping victim being held in a prison cell guest bedroom in Bowling Green, Ohio, he was still being held in comparison to his brother.

"What?" Ben asked.

James didn't like the softness of his brother's inquiry, but hoped their shared joke wouldn't fail. He and Ben liked to commiserate on the unfairness of having a genetic link with a sports star-who just happened to be living out their father's boyhood dream. "Seems your buddy Cy is a card carrying member of The Jonathan Winchester Fan Club. Once again you are schooled by one of your way cooler and much better looking younger brothers."

"Figures." Ben rallied some, proving he was holding his own by giving a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Nobody ever asks us surgeons for our autographs."

"It's a sad world." James played his part. "How many homeruns actually save a life?"

"Several, if you count my dad's heart giving out." Cy folded his arms over his chest, his gaze moving to the metal door. "He's a huge Red Sox fan-was so psyched at that game when we met JT. That was such a great day."

The intense feeling of sadness and regret emanating from the teen caught James off guard. He winced, bringing a hand to his head.

"Jimmy?"

"James," James growled, Ben's concerned voice grounding him. He cursed himself for leaving his blocks down. He blinked, realizing what the new onslaught meant. "Looks like Cy's not doing well."

"What do you mean?" Ben's hand brushed against James's, cool and clammy.

"I'm okay," Cy disagreed.

"Not you," James rubbed his temples. "Your body. Your life force, for lack of a better word." It sounded lame, psychic mumbo jumbo, just one of the reasons James chose not to talk about his abilities unless it was with one of his uncles, or Mac. He shot his brother a helpless glance. "I can sense his presence now. All his angsting is giving me one mother of a headache, which means he's becoming more a part of the spirit plane."

"Organ failure," Ben voice was weak and full of regret. "It's inevitable."

"But what will happen if I die before my dad gets back?" Cy stayed very still, a rabbit caught in the crosshairs.

"I'm not sure." James looked up t him. He didn't know why some spirits moved on immediately, and others chose to linger, or if they even had a choice in the matter. It was often unfinished business, but he didn't know if one could just will themselves to stay once their body gave out.

"What's he saying?" Ben shifted on the bed.

James studied his brother for a moment, the parallels not lost on him. "He wants to know what will happen if he can't hold on until his father gets here."

Ben struggled to keep his eyes open, his focus on James. "We just have to believe his dad will get here in time."

"If I can hold on, will the knife work? Will it transfer my soul into another body?"

James glanced to Ben. "He wants to know if Echnon's Blade will work."

"Tell him it might work." Ben licked his lips. "But it would come with a price."

"He can hear you, genius." James knew it was hard for others to accept what he understood-just because one didn't hear or see the dead and dying, didn't mean they weren't being seen and heard by them.

"I don't want to use the knife," Cy's voice held no doubts. He met James's gaze with unflinching resolve. "I'm not afraid. I haven't been for a long time."

"Then you've got a leg up." James considered the fact he was terrified of dying his best kept secret, and the fact he carried a torch for JT's long time girlfriend, Sydney Mathews. "Death is right up there with public speaking. Most people don't want the experience."

"I've made my peace." Cy gave a little shrug. "It's not like I have a lot of choice in the matter, besides I think there's something more out there for me."

James wasn't sure if it was the look on his face, or the way he moved his hand protectively over Ben's chest that gave away his doubts as to his confidence in what lay beyond the great divide.

"What about you?" Cy questioned. "You see ghosts, talk to dead people, what do they say?"

James tensed. "I don't usually get philosophical with spirits." Tessa was the one exception. A regular visitor to James, she was a spirit who refused to let go and move on for reasons she didn't choose to share. James had long since given up encouraging her to do so. Tessa seemed to be an anomaly. She wasn't embittered or enraged anti-matter; she didn't hurt anyone. She liked to talk to James about his gift, the light, giving her postulations about what lay beyond. "Nor do I have the time or inclination to wax poetic with you."

Cy rolled his eyes. "I bet you're a real comfort to the departed, Winchester"

James snorted. "You'd rather I make up a warm and fuzzy tale about the afterlife that may or may not be true." It was the one question he always got, the one he hated with a passion.

"Maybe."

"I know an angel. He seems decent enough." Castiel was the only hard proof James had there was something good on the other side of the great divide. "The end."

"That's something." Cy didn't seem as disappointed as James expected. "I guess this is where faith comes in."

"I guess." James wasn't sure he had faith in anything but his family, good old American ingenuity, and the almighty dollar.

"I believe in God." Ben's statement had him turning to his brother. Although James assumed he was speaking to Cy, Ben kept his gaze on James. "I've seen too many miracles not to. I'm not afraid to die."

"You're not going to die." James gripped his brother's arm. He hoped the pep speech was for Cy's benefit. "How about we stop talking about the hereafter and focus on a way out of this mess that doesn't involve heralding angels."

"Is there a way to stall?" Cy asked. "To maybe fake out my father until help arrives?"

"I have a strong hunch nothing short of driving Echnon's Blade into the unlucky inmate's chest is going to satisfy your father."

"Maybe you could tell him I'm here, that I don't want this."

"Like he's going to believe me. Your withered shell of a body a few doors down is not exactly going to give me much credibility." James gestured to Ben. "And it's not exactly like I don't have good motivation to lie through my teeth."

"Can't you perform a séance, let me speak through you?"

"Do I look like I carry a crystal ball in my pocket?" James reeled at the idea. He had read Duran's Hughes's accounts of channeling. The man mastered the technique, often conjuring ghosts against their will to help in his vast and varied exploits. "It's not my thing."

"Meaning- you don't know how to do it." Cy folded his arms over his chest in challenge. "Or you're afraid to do it."

"Meaning- inviting spirits to clank around inside my head is not my idea of fun." James ran a hand down his mouth. "Besides, you're not technically a spirit."

"If Ben is right that won't be a problem for much longer." James's reply was silenced by another crash of sensations thundering against his blocks, only these were stronger, more familiar and definitely more welcomed.

"JT." James stood, his gaze going to the door. He was positive now. JT's was close by, Max too. He couldn't detect locations from long distances like Caleb. Psychic essences spread faintly before James rather than the threadlike connection that Caleb could follow to connect with those closest to him. From what James could gather they were on the property.

"What's going on?" Ben shifted on the bed, unable to garner the strength he needed to make it to sitting.

"Stay still." James held up a hand, moving closer to the door. He placed his ear against the adjacent wall hoping to hear something. "I think the posse just showed."