Chapter 5

Our siblings push buttons that cast us in roles we felt sure we had let go of long ago - the baby, the peacekeeper, the caretaker, the avoider... It doesn't seem to matter how much time has elapsed or how far we've traveled. ~Jane Mersky Leder

When his brother James was three years old he went through a stage where JT was the only who could care for him. JT had to help James with his clothes, comb his hair, read him a story at night and tuck him in. It was cute at first, endearing to the grown-ups, but as usual James pushed the envelope. His preference for JT became a game of wills.

He refused to eat unless JT served his food. He snubbed bath time unless JT helped him. It took one time of their mom having to retrieve JT from a little league game so that James would use the restroom to have their father take the matter in hand. JT went to stay with Uncle Caleb. James went two days without a bath and food before he decided Mom and Dad were also worthy of serving his daily needs.

In retrospect JT understood the story was the first demonstrations of his brother's ability to turn anything into a battle, but for JT it meant something different. It marked the first time he felt completely responsible for his little brother. James might have agreed for survival sake to free JT from his role as caregiver, but JT had never managed to shake the feelings it stirred deep within his six-year-old psyche. The irrefutable knowledge that James needed him, would always need him.

JT responded to that revelation as if it were a life's calling. He came back from Caleb's more vigilant in his obligation to be his brother's keeper. It was a job he felt he'd failed at in the last few years with college, the minors and the pros- a regret confirmed by the fact he wasn't there when James needed him most.

"This is not your fault."

Max's quiet voice brought JT from his thoughts. "What?"

"I know that's what you're thinking, J." Max shifted so his back was flat against the tree they were using for cover. "You've got your bitch face going on."

JT resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Max would only use it as proof of his culpability. "It's pitch black out here, dick head. I'm wearing camouflage. You can't see my face."

"All these years of best friend duty means I don't need a visual to know what's going on with you." Max pressed the night vision goggles in his hands. "But you might want to use these for checking out the perimeter."

JT took the goggles, studying the house a hundred yards in front of them. They had only arrived at Gentry's, ditching their rental a mile up the road. "I was thinking about when Jimmy was a little kid."

"What's with the past tense?" Max snorted. "Jimmy is still a little kid."

"He's almost eighteen." JT's go to gut reaction was to defend his brother, the weight of James not being there to proclaim the fact himself a reminder of JT's obvious failure. He turned to find Max on the ground rifling through their duffle.

"And your point?" Max stood, offering JT a blade and a back-up 9 millimeter. "Jimmy could be 28 and we'd still be having this discussion."

JT took the weapons, sliding the blade inside his leather jacket. He resisted the urge to call pot and kettle. Max had no right to cast the first stone when it came to maturity. As far as JT was concerned Max and James were practically on par. "My point is he's graduating from high school on Saturday."

"And you really think a diploma is going to magically transform James into an adult?" Max opened the leather pouch at his side, withdrawing the scanner that would tell them how many heat signatures were in the house.

"Just because it didn't work for you, doesn't mean it won't work for Jimmy." JT strapped the extra gun into the holder at his back. He didn't hold any such delusions, but was unwilling to concede such an act of betrayal when Jimmy's life was in danger.

"I'm going to cut you some slack because I know you're worried." Max tossed him a couple of extra clips as he waited for the computer screen to come up.

"Columbia will be good for him, moving to New York will give him perspective," JT recited what he had heard Ben tell their father in Boston a few weeks before when they had gotten together after a home game.

"All New York is going to give James is one huge ass playground." Max aimed the scanner at the house. "Face it, man. Columbia is a distraction at best. Grandpa Mac can offer to fund all the new buildings he wants, but his generosity isn't going to bring about a miracle. He's throwing his money away."

"You could try being a little more optimistic." JT worried what Max was saying was the truth but at the moment he could care less if James took college seriously or not, as long as he was alive and well to con his way through it.

"You could try seeing things how they really are." Max turned the screen towards him. "Five heat signatures."

JT gestured to the house. "The only thing I care about seeing right now is James, in one piece. Are you sure James is one of those signatures?"

Max took Mary's crystal from his pocket. The amethyst glowed warmly, casting a soft purple iridescence around them. "Josie's necklace is in there. Magic doesn't lie."

"So Gentry's an idiot?" JT looked at the house once more. "Why come back to his home? He had to know The Geek Squad had all his information. The man's a decorated officer and a generational hunter. We didn't even need the crystal after you scryed for general location and came up with Ohio. He left a paper trail."

"Maybe he didn't care if he was found." Max came along side, breaching cover to stand shoulder to shoulder with JT. "As long as he got what he wanted."

JT looked at his friend. "There doesn't appear to be any guards. If James is in there, that leaves three others to consider. Other hunters?" They had contemplated theories, postulated every case scenario on their flight to Ohio. It was obvious what Gentry was up to after Carolyn filled them in on the condition of the man's son. Knowing was only half the battle. Even with Ryker scoring them a direct flight into Wright-Patterson Airforce base, they had lost precious time.

"I sure as hell wouldn't kidnap The Guardian's son alone, but then again, I'd have headed to Mexico or Canada." Max put the scanner away. "I understand Gentry's motivation to do something this crazy, but getting other hunters to go against The Guardian, against Dean Winchester, well that's a whole other story."

"It doesn't matter. Hunters or not, we need to get in there. Now."

"Sounds good to me." Max stashed their gear under a bush before starting forward.

JT caught his arm. "Remember, getting James out safe is our priority mission."

Max sighed. "I heard Mom relay The Advisor's mandate as well as you, JT."

"But we both know hearing and listening are two entirely different things for you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of his need to do something, but talk. "Dude, I'm not itching to piss my dad and Sam off anymore than they already are."

JT let him go. "Then we agree we're to get James out, fall back to safety and stay put until The Triad arrives."

"Triad? We'll be lucky if Sam and Dad make it here by morning." Max raised his hands in the air. "Need I remind you that no one has yet to even talk to Dean or Uncle Caleb?"

"That doesn't change what your dad said." JT didn't like the order anymore than Max did, but he understood it. "We wait for my Dad."

"Fine, but what about our Triad, JT?" Max pointed his gun at the house. "That bastard Gentry took more than Dean Winchester's son."

"I know." JT understood all too well. "He took my little brother."

"Our Scholar," Max added. "This isn't just an assault on Dean Winchester's reign, or his family. It's an attack on you, and I can't discount that. We can't look weak. Ever. It only invites challenge."

"We're not The Triad. James is not The Scholar, not yet." JT couldn't think of James in that capacity. Jimmy didn't even have a ring, and if things continued as they were, wouldn't for some time. JT understood Max's position. Their lineage might have ensured them as candidates for the next Triad, but it also cast a long shadow of doubt. They had to work harder to prove themselves worthy, but JT was still accepting the fact that someday he would be The Guardian, that Max would be The Knight. "Jimmy's still a kid, remember? This is an internal matter. The current Guardian will handle it his way. We'll be lucky he doesn't strip our rings for disobeying protocol."

Max continued to stare at him, his jaw clenching. "Fine."

"I'm just making sure we're on the same page." JT and Max hunted together on a regular basis, knew each other's weaknesses and made up for them without much conscious thought. Restraint was not Max's strength. "We have to stick together, show a united front."

"And if that bastard Gentry really is an idiot and has done something to hurt Jimmy?"

JT tightened his grip on his gun. "Then we go to Plan B."

Max grinned, his teeth flashing white and wolfish in the darkness. "We are most definitely on the same page, J."

They entered through the three car garage, undetected and with only a simple alarm system that Max made easy work of disarming. It was eerily quiet and completely dark. They felt their way along, stumbling over skateboards and discarded hockey equipment in their desire not to use light in hopes they may keep the element of surprise, though the prospects of a trap thrummed through JT's mind.

"JT?"

JT nearly bumped into Max when he stopped short. It was the hint of surprise in his friend's voice, not the sudden illumination of a glow stick that had JT coming around to Max's side. His friend held out the light. "Car look familiar to you?"

"Ben?"

"No way there are two cars like this one." Max ran his hand along the hood of Ben's car, making his way to the driver's side. He pressed his face against the window to search the inside. "His bags are inside."

"Explains why he didn't answer his cell." JT's heart thundered against his chest. He had tried to call his brother before boarding the plane and after landing. Ben always answered unless he was in surgery.

"But not what he's doing here." Max looked at JT.

"Gentry's son." JT remembered some bits of conversation his father and brother had on that trip to Boston that didn't concern James. "Ben talked about a patient; one Dad had asked him to take on."

"A Guardian medical referral?" Max shoved the light into his boot, casting them in darkness once more. "Gentry really does have some balls."

"He's desperate." JT understood the lengths a man would go to for family. The Winchesters' legacy was filled with one sacrifice after another. He would be a hypocrite not to acknowledge it, but it only served to increase his trepidation.

Max gestured to the door that would take them into the house. "We need to get Ben and James out of there."

JT was all for that plan. He took point, not caring if Max was irked by their change in positions. Both JT's brothers were now in the line of fire, the reality of what that could mean settling in his gut like lead. Picking the lock was easy; the code not necessary after Max's earlier dismantling of the security. They slipped soundlessly into the house.

The kitchen was dim, empty, the air rich with leftover dinner. Only the light above the stove was on, a teapot on one of the burners. A mug sat on the table, a plate of food barely touched. JT felt the cup and plate, their contents still warm. Max gripped his arm, pointing to a room off the side. JT signaled for him to check it. The bathroom was clear so they made their way towards the hall.

JT flattened against the wall, listening for sounds of life. Soft music flowed from behind the first closed doorway on the left, the kind one might use for yoga or meditation. Light glowed beneath the frame. Max tried the knob. Finding it unlocked they entered the room.

There was a man on his knees in the center of the room, his back to the door. He was hunched over, shoulders shaking and JT's first thought was that he was praying, maybe crying. Then he saw the mess on the rug. He closed the door, glancing to Max as the soft click echoed around them.

"About time. Did you bring the bleach…this isn't coming out," the man asked without turning, continuing his scrubbing.

"Maybe you should put some muscle into it. Bloodstains are a bitch."

Max's words had the man dropping his sponge, reaching for the rifle beside him. He wasn't quick enough.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." JT brought his boot down on the guy's hand, keeping him on his knees. He felt bone and cartilage crunch beneath his weight. The man cried out, struggling to pull his hand free. JT shoved the muzzle of his gun against the man's temple. "Stay quiet," he hissed.

"One guess who this is?" Max moved to the bed, leaning over its occupant. "Patient's still breathing."

"Who else is here with you?" JT shifted, adding more pressure to the man's hand. He ignored the overpowering scent of sickness and urine filling the room, the awful way they blended with the more prominent metallic pungency of blood and citrus cleaner.

"No one," the guy ground out. "Just me and the boy."

"We know there's another person," JT countered. If Ben was also being held and the sick kid was one of the heat signatures, that still left one body unaccounted for.

"Who's getting the bleach?" Max grabbed a handful of the guy's hair, jerking his head back.

"My sister…" The man struggled to pull away. Max tightened his grip. "In the basement…" the guy stammered. "She's harmless."

"Who are you?" JT demanded. The man held no resemblance to the picture Carolyn had emailed them. "You're not Gentry. You don't wear a ring."

"Larson. My name's Rodney Larson."

"Hank Gentry's wife your sister?" Max asked, letting him go with a rough shove.

"Yes, damn it," Larson growled.

JT took his foot off Larson's hand. He kicked the man's gun out of reach. "Where's Gentry?"

Larson cradled his hand to his chest, glaring up at JT. "Fuck you."

"Wrong answer." Max grabbed Larson by the collar, hefting him to standing. Once the man was on his feet, Max punched him hard in the kidney. Larson doubled over with a groan. "Try another question, J. Let's see if he catches on to how this game works."

JT let his gaze move from the taunting bloodstains on the floor to Larson. "Where are James and Ben Winchester?"

"Never heard of them." Larson's reply earned him another blow from Max.

"I guess Mr. Clean's a slow learner and a terrible liar." Max grabbed Larson's shoulders bringing him upright to face JT. "Maybe he needs some more motivation. How about the next lie that comes out of his mouth costs him a knee cap?"

"That sounds fair," JT pointed the gun at Larson's leg. "Spare yourself a lot of pain and your sister another stain to clean up. Where are they?"

"Alright…alright." Larson's gaze went to the door. "They're in the bedroom at the end of the hallway. None of this was my idea. I was just trying to help my nephew."

"And Gentry?" Max asked. "I believe my friend asked you where he is."

"The hell if I know." Larson looked at JT, cradling his hand closer to his chest. "I swear he's not here."

"You better be telling us the truth." JT maintained his aim.

"I am. The bastard took off after he shot Cy's doctor."

"He did what?" JT's gaze went back to the bloodstains on the floor, all his irrational fear now gaining uninvited validity. He tightened his grip on his gun, finger twitching over the trigger. "Why? Why the hell would he shoot Ben?"

"Maybe he was dissatisfied with the treatment." Larson motioned to the bed, the sick boy. "My nephew is still dying."

Max was a blur in the corner of JT's eye as he moved forward, bringing the butt of his gun down across Larson's head. The man slumped forward falling over the blood stain he had tried to remove, out cold.

"Come on, J. Move your ass." Max collected Larson's gun, then grabbed JT's sleeve to tug him towards the door. "Priority mission. Remember?"

JT felt himself disengage from his feelings, autopilot kick in. It was a technique that came in handy in baseball, all distractions falling away, the roar of the crowd, the directives from his coach fading into the background as his focus zeroed in completely to one single goal. It usually came down to catch the ball, hit the ball, run-win. In hunting the directives were somewhat different. Keep your head down, kill the monster, run- survive. It allowed him to push aside the fact Ben was injured, place one foot in front of the other, covering Max's six as they made their way cautiously down the hallway.

"Fucking Gentry." Max holstered his gun, placing Larson's rifle by the door so he could slide the metal bar away and free the rest of the locks. "I want to be there when Dean kills his ass."

"Just hurry." JT kept his eyes on the hallway, glancing from the door that led to the basement to the kitchen where they had entered. He wasn't convinced Gentry had taken off after shooting Ben. The man had proven to have little sense of self preservation so far.

"He'll be okay, J. We'll fix this."

JT turned as the last lock was disengaged. Max held his gaze for a moment, as confident as he had been in the earlier assurances of JT's blamelessness in James being taken. JT wanted his best friend to be right on both accounts, but was robbed of any such comfort as Max opened the door.

"About damn time," James was waiting for them. JT took the fact he was standing on his own and obviously pissed as a very good sign, but the blood on James's clothes, the look of fear in his dark eyes told another story.

"My broomstick's in the shop, Ungrateful." Max nodded JT in, opting to stand guard at the door. "We had to travel the mortal way-by plane. You owe Ryker and his pilot buddy dinner."

"Are you alright?" JT squeezed James's shoulder. "How's Ben?"

"I'm good." James gestured to the bed in the corner and JT quickly made his way there. "Ben's a mess."

"Don't listen to him." Ben opened his eyes when JT laid a hand on his forehead. "He's being dramatic, as usual."

"Are you sure about that?" JT took in the bloodstained shirt, the way Ben was fighting to keep his eyes open. His brother looked terrible. He holstered his gun, taking a seat on the bed to check the wound. "You've definitely seen better days."

"We need to get out of here and get him to a hospital." James started gathering things, shoving them into Ben's medical bag. "He's lost a lot of blood. My patch-up job is second rate."

"Are you okay to move?" JT ignored James, keeping his eyes on Ben. He lifted his brother's shirt, wincing at the soaked bandage. "This looks bad."

"All the more reason to get him the hell out of here," James snapped. "I sent Cy outside to watch for his old man as soon as I sensed you and Max, but a heads up won't give us much time. All we need is a run in with Gentry to slow us up."

"Who's Cy?" Max asked from the doorway. "We didn't pass anyone on the way in here."

"Gentry's son." James made his way back to the bed, his anger and frustration palpable. "He's on our side."

"I thought Gentry's son was the sick kid in the other room? There's another one?" JT understood James was frightened for Ben. He felt the same, but knew someone had to keep a cool head. That someone would not be James. He replaced Ben's shirt, looking up at his younger brother.

"They're one in the same," James tapped a finger against his temple. "I got the freaky psychic gift in the family remember?"

"Cy's dying." Ben's soft confession garnered JT's complete attention. "Organ failure."

JT squeezed Ben's shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could."

"Can you two girls save the consolations for your bedside chat in the recovery room?" James pulled the blankets off Ben. "Help me get him up."

JT stared at his younger brother. James tended to forget who was in charge, and the funny thing was most times no one seemed inclined to remind him of the fact. "Where exactly is Gentry?"

"Gone to pick up the body into which he wants me to transfer Cy's spirit." James didn't wait for JT to move. He reached out and took hold of Ben's arm, pulling him up. "Yet another reason for us to get the hell out of here. I'm not really itching to add murder to my list of bad deeds."

Ben couldn't stifle the groan of pain the movement elicited. He made it to his feet with James's help, his hand moving to cover the wound at his side. "That sucked."

"Take it easy it with him, Jimmy." JT reached out to steady Ben.

"I'm alright." Ben shook off his help.

JT nodded. "We'll have to use your car. We left our rental a mile or so up the road." The El Camino was ill suited for passengers, but hiking out would not be an option for Ben.

"Bloodstains on my upholstery?" Ben offered a hoarse laugh, but JT didn't miss the way he leaned heavily on James, the way his eyes fluttered as if it were a struggle just to keep them from closing. "No more house calls. Ever."

"I'll remind you of that, Doc next time Dad tries to whore you out." James held JT's gaze for only a moment, but it was long enough to communicate the helplessness he was feeling. "Not like you or JT has the balls to tell The Guardian no."

"Easy for you to say, Jimmy." JT gave a shake of his head, removing his gun from his holster. James might have at one time or another broken every one of their father's rules, but it was not out of fearlessness of the man. "Not all of us can pull the coveted favorite son card."

"Says the guy with all the baseball trophies and his own rookie card," Ben's voice was low, but JT still caught the eye roll as he passed to take the lead.

"Same guy pulling your asses out of the fire, Big Brother." JT smirked at Max as he passed him to enter the hallway. "Some days it just doesn't pay to be the middle child."

"You should try having a baby sister." Max snorted.

"I think I'll pass." JT was certain any hopes his mom had of trying one more time for a girl were dashed by the reality of raising James.

"Like JT needs a sister when he has a pansy-ass friend like Max?" James's theatric whispering to Ben was easily heard by JT and James's intended recipient, Max, who let loose with a string of familiar curses.

JT appreciated the moment of normalcy their banter brought. It was short lived as he passed the room where the dying boy, Cy slept. The kid's uncle remained unconscious on the floor. JT found it hard to feel remorse as he led his family through the kitchen, out the door, into the garage. This time he reached for the light switch before he stepped out the door and down the stairs, stealth not the factor it was before. James's warning came the same instant JT noticed the garage door ajar, a chill racing along his spine.

"JT! Cy says Gentry's here."

JT turned just as Gentry appeared from behind a tall stack of storage boxes. The sheriff's gun was trained on James and Ben, who had just cleared the doorway. JT swung his weapon to cover Gentry.

"Drop your weapon, Winchester," Gentry ordered. "Tell your buddy to get out here."

"Take it easy, Hank." JT figured the man's plan to wait in the wings, and get the drop on all of them was foiled by James's warning. He didn't look happy he was forced to show himself early. "Don't make things worse than they already are."

"Put your weapon down and kick it over here to me." Gentry glanced to the kitchen door. "Sawyer, show yourself! I know you're in there. The future Guardian wouldn't have come here alone."

"Sounds like you're a smart guy," JT kept his gaze on the sheriff. He knew Max would take his lead. "I guess you also know Max is an excellent marksman, probably the Knight's best student. He'll take you out if he has to."

"Not before I get a shot off." Gentry took a threatening step forward. "He won't risk me putting another hole in Ben, or you and James getting caught in the cross fire. I know a thing or two about the Knight's honor code and you said it yourself he's Reaves's prize protégé."

"Good thing I've not been knighted." Max stepped into the light onto the first step, his gun aimed at Gentry's head. "I'm just a hunter, sworn to uphold and protect The Brotherhood. Wasting you would fall right in those parameters."

"There's a whole hell of a lot of difference in shooting a target and killing a man, Son." Gentry didn't lower his weapon. JT had hoped the man wouldn't call their bluff.

"I guess I'll find out."

"Not tonight." The new voice came from inside behind Max. It was female; most likely Gentry's wife who JT naively hoped would remain faceless and entombed in the basement; so much for trying to keep the woman out of the line of fire. "Put your gun down."

"Sonofabitch," Max swore softly.

JT couldn't help thinking their escape was turning into a bad action movie where the good guys and bad guys keep alternating getting the drop on one another.

"I will shoot him if I have to," the woman stated fiercely.

"Believe her," James spoke up, shifting to give Ben more support. "She's the one who shot Ben. She's off the deep end, as crazy as Gentry."

"Don't do it," Max said. "Take Gentry."

"Do as she says, Max. Put your gun down." JT lowered his own weapon, kneeling to place it on the concrete floor. It was then he caught sight of the bound and gag kid behind Gentry struggling to see around the crate, the teen's eyes wide, wild with confusion and fear. Realization lowered like a gigantic boom. Not only had JT failed in his mission to save his brothers, he had now placed his best friend in jeopardy and doomed an innocent to certain death. His father would be disappointed.

"Smart boy." Hank kicked the gun across the floor. "Sawyer, give your weapon to Helen, nice and slow."

"Do it, Max." JT raised his hands, taking a step back to stand in front of James and Ben. He heard Max grumble his favorite four-letter word, but knew his friend would comply. Fighting their way out would not be an option. The risk was too high.

"Keep them covered, Helen." Gentry kept his gun on JT as he bent down and grabbed his prisoner. He hefted the struggling kid to his feet, shoving him forward. "We're all going back into the house."

"Let Max, Ben and the civilian go," JT tried. "You have me for leverage. James will perform the ritual."

"I'm not leaving you and Jimmy here." Max growled.

"Ben needs a hospital." JT shot a look to his friend.

"No one's leaving," Gentry stopped any rebuttal. "Especially, the perp. He's Cy's ticket to a new life. Now let's all go back inside like good little boys where James will do what he needs to do so we can call an ambulance for Ben."

"I can't let you kill an innocent," JT pointed at Gentry's prisoner. "This is Brotherhood business. Spilling civilian blood doesn't just tarnish you; it taints everything we stand for."

"Trust me, kid. This guy's not innocent. Nobody is going to miss him. No one will know he was used in Brotherhood affairs."

"I'll know." JT stood firm. "You don't get to decide who's worthy. I won't let you put a black mark on something generations of men have died to protect."

"As if your daddy hasn't put a shit load of blemishes on The Brotherhood record in his time."

"Fuck you, Gentry," James snarled.

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Hank." JT reached out and caught James's shirt, keeping him from doing something stupid. "And I'm not my father."

"Spoken like a Guardian, but your nobility doesn't get my boy a new body." Gentry gave the gagged teen a rough shake. "This kid does. He was going a way for a long time anyway. Look at it as me sparing him a whole lot of pain and suffering. I'm showing mercy, something you should appreciate. Your brother finishing him with a magical knife is nothing compared to what's in store for him in the joint."

"I'll be Cy's host," JT volunteered, trying to keep a plan intact.

"The hell you will," Max growled.

"You've got to be shitting me." James jerked away from JT nearly losing his hold on Ben.

"Think about it, Gentry." JT continued, his idea taking root to save the civilian and buy some time. "Do you really think my father is going to let that guy walk around with Cy's spirit inside. He's not only a civilian, he'd be an abomination. His duty as Guardian would demand he destroy him, release Cy's spirit to set things straight. It won't be so easy for him to do that if one of his sons is standing in the way."

"Don't listen to him," James said. "My brother is an idiot. The only thing you can do to piss the Guardian off worse than shooting one of his sons is turning one of his children into a meat suit for your fucking kid."

Hank looked from James to JT, his brow furrowing. "I didn't think about Dean not allowing Cy to live out his life. I figured he would finish me, but let my family go."

JT frowned at Gentry, "Because my father has a reputation for being so lenient and easygoing?"

"JT," Ben's voice was weak, but his sentiment was as firm as James's. "Let it go."

"Hank, maybe the boy's right," Helen spoke up. "Even the most ruthless of men would falter at hurting their own child."

"JT would no longer be his son," James grit out. "Do you not understand that the ritual only leaves room for one soul, the other has to say bye-bye?" He glared at Gentry. "Fratricide was never part of the deal. I am not going to kill my own brother."

"That's why you should choose me." Max shoved his way past James, moving to stand by JT. "Jimmy has probably fantasized about killing me at least a dozen times, and I'm Dean's godson. It's not blood, but he's not going to be able to easily finish me either."

"No." JT shook his head, wishing Max would have just accepted his plan "I'm doing this, Max."

Max pointed at Hank's silver ring. "If being a hunter ever meant anything to you, to your family, Gentry, you cannot kill a Guardian-even a future one."

"I'm not the Guardian," JT stated the obvious. His father was very much still in charge, and would be for a long time. "I'm no different than any other hunter."

"We all know that's not true."

"He's right," Gentry said. "Killing a Guardian is taboo, like offing Merlin."

"What?" This was not turning out as JT had planned. "Now you choose to be dictated by Brotherhood code?"

Gentry shook his head. "I don't feel right about it."

"But killing a future Knight sits well with you?" JT was incredulous. Things were spiraling out of his control, and back into the hands of Gentry.

"It's not the same thing. They're muscle, a dime a dozen." Gentry shoved his prisoner back behind the wood pile. "Besides, I like the Matthews kid better. Sawyers are always a little too slick for my taste-like car salesmen."

"Just call me Willy Loman." Max smirked, letting the insult slide right off him. "Plus I'm better looking and I'm going to be a chef. With JT your kid will have to play pro ball. I bet Cy doesn't even like baseball?"

JT glared at his best friend, who looked a little too pleased considering he'd just won an argument that would effectively end his life. "Lane Matthews is definitely looking good at the moment."

"Let the boy pick," Helen said, gun held steady.

"Who? James?" JT wished for divine intercession.

She nodded, her haunted eyes finding James's. "My Cyril can help him choose."