“Okay, Mac, we’re alone.” Dean cast a glance towards the balcony, making sure no one was going over the side. “What’s so damn important?”

“First, cut the attitude.”

The sharp tone pulled Dean’s gaze back to the doctor and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It wasn’t like him to snap at Mackland. The man had been nothing but supportive to him over the years. He was one of his father’s closest friend. But, damn if he didn’t have shitty timing. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology, Son.” Mackland gestured to the couch. “Have a seat.”

Dean did so with a feeling of dread. “You going to deliver one of your ‘Father Knows Best’ speeches to me too?”

Mackland reclaimed the edge of the coffee table. “I would have done anything not to have to tell Caleb that bit of news.” He met Dean’s gaze. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Dean swallowed hard. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “If this is about The Guardian thing, Mac I know you want me to embrace my whole destiny but I got to tell you, I’m not exactly jonesing for this title.”

“I know that you haven’t had the best experiences with some of the other hunters within our ranks, Dean.”

“Understate much?” Dean snorted. “It’s been one hell of a bumpy ride. We’ve been blindsided too many times. Why the hell would I even want to lead The Brotherhood?”

Mackland leaned forward, his gray eyes intense. “Dean, you’ve wanted to be a hunter since you were five. You would beg your father to be a part of jobs that most grown men would have run from. Everything we taught you, you absorbed like a sponge.”

“I think you’re remembering Sam, Doc.”

Ames frowned. “Don’t play dumb. Your brother is brilliant. There’s no denying that. But you are just as talented in other areas. Areas that make you a natural for the job.”

“Mac, I wanted to hunt so I could be with Dad and the other hunters. I wanted to be like Dad.” Dean believed his father was a hero. He wanted to live up to that expectation. Mostly, that still rang true.

“Perhaps in the beginning, but what started out as a father and son venture became your own passion. You want to help people. To rectify the wrongdoings done to the innocent. You can’t deny that.”

“Okay, so let’s say I believe in the cause-in Damien’s whole Three Musketeer rap. That doesn’t mean I’m fit to be a leader. That I would even begin to know how to do such a job.” Dean looked down at his ring. “What the hell was Jim thinking?”

A hint of a dimple appeared in Mackland’s cheek. “He was thinking you were a strong, brave, intelligent warrior with a heart too big for his own good.”

“Right.” Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s me, Captain Onehelluva Big Brother.”

“You are, you know.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“A good brother.” Mackland clasped his hands together. “To Sam and Caleb.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Dean’s gaze went to the balcony again. He licked his lips. “There are some things you don’t know, Mac.” He sought the doctor’s compassionate gray eyes again. “Things that would make it impossible for me to be the next Guardian even if I wanted to.”

“I know about the deal, Dean.”

Dean felt his chest constrict, his breath caught. “What?”

“The deal you made for Sam’s life.” It was Mackland’s turn to look out the window.

Fucking Bobby. The man had promised not to tell Caleb. Dean should have included The Scholar for good measure. He didn’t know what to say. “Mac…I…you…”

“Don’t understand?” Mac laughed, roughly wiped at his eyes. “I think I understand all too well.”

“I couldn’t let him die. It’s my job to watch out for him. You know that.”

“Yes. I know you believe that.” Mackland sighed wearily. “And a part of me commends your unflinching loyalty and love for Sam.” He reached for Dean’s arm, wrapped his fingers around the younger hunter’s wrist. “But you are valuable, too. Not only to this fight, not only to The Brotherhood, but to your family.”

“Mac, my family would have been gone.”

“Not everyone.”

“I couldn’t lose Sammy.”

“It would have broken my heart to lose your brother. I love him like my own son. He’s so much like your father that sometimes it's like John isn’t even gone…but losing you will be just as hard. Do you understand that?”

“I understand.” And Dean did. Maybe he didn’t think about it before he made the deal. He was too consumed with his own grief with the overwhelming despair of his worst nightmare being realized. But afterwards, when the world had righted itself, reality had set in. Dean had sealed his own fate-bound others to suffer because of his death. People he loved.

Sam would have to live with his brother’s fate. But so would Caleb. There was no worse pain. Dean understood that all too well. Then there was Mackland and Bobby…Missouri. Not to mention the obligation he owed to Jim Murphy. To The Brotherhood.

What could he say? He was sorry to hurt those closest to him; but he wouldn’t apologize for saving Sam. His whole life he had sacrificed for others; but this was the one selfish act he claimed for himself. “I wish it could be different.”

“Do you?”

Dean clenched his fists. “I wish it wouldn’t hurt anyone else.”

“Anyone but you, you mean?”

“I knew what I was signing on for.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“The whole one year thing…that doesn’t bother me so much. You know? I can make my peace with that.” Dean shrugged, laughed weakly. “It’s almost a relief.”

He could tell by the stricken look on Mackland’s face he had not said the smartest of things.

“A relief?”

“I mean I don’t have to worry about what tomorrow will bring…you know. I don’t have to worry about screwing up or letting anyone down.” But that wasn’t entirely true. Dean had other fears now.

“Dean, I think I should get you some help.”

“Help?” Did Bobby not explain the details to the doctor. “No way, Mac. If we try to break the deal, or weasel out of it in any way, then Sammy’s worm food.”

“I wasn’t speaking of that kind of help.” Mackland pinned him with a hard stare. “I was speaking of professional help, Son. I think you’re depressed. You have…”

Dean’s laugh was deep and genuine this time. “You want me to see a fucking shrink, Mac? Really?” It was beyond comical. They were in the middle of a war. Mackland had said it himself. They were being bombarded from all sides. “And what am I supposed to tell Dr. Freud as I lay on his leather couch? It’s my mom’s fault that my life has gone to hell?”

“I have colleagues that deal in this area, Dean. We can tell them you’ve received a terminal diagnosis. Many of the emotions you are going through will be the same. Denial, anger, bargaining…”

Dean held up his hand, shook his head. “No, Mac. I appreciate it, man. I know you’re trying to help. But I’m not depressed.” Maybe he was depressed. Hell he didn’t know anymore. It wasn’t like it mattered. Dean would handle it himself. “I’m going to do this my way.”

“The Winchester way?” Mackland growled. He ran his hands through his hair. “Damn it, Dean. I can’t not help you. Do you understand that?” Mackland leaned closer, his face mere inches from Dean. “I won’t lose you like your father. Not without a fight.”

“If you want to really help me, then do some research for me. Put your Geek Squad on it.”

The doctor leaned back, a look of exasperation on his face. “What kind of research?”

“I need to know what might happen to me down there, Mackland. I need to be prepared for anything. And not that whole biblical spiel where I’m tortured and burn for eternity.” Dean pushed on, even though the thoughts of what kind of physical pain he might endure caused an involuntary flinch. “I want to know if they could do something to mess with me…make me into something else.”

Mackland raked a hand across his mouth and Dean thought he looked like he might be sick. “You’re afraid they’ll try and turn you into one of them?”

“Maybe.” Dean felt his own eyes water, his throat burn. “Mostly I’m afraid they’ll use me against you all.” His throat grew tighter and he cursed the one lone tear he felt trail down his face. “That they’ll make me do something to Sammy or Caleb. Or they’ll have to end me. You know they couldn’t deal with that.”

“And you think Caleb and Sam are going to be able to deal with you going to hell, Dean?”

Dean angrily wiped at his face. “They’ll have to.”

“Not without a battle.”

“Sam understands how I feel about that. He knows there’s nothing he can do.”

“And Caleb?”

“Doesn’t know.”

The doctor nodded. “For now.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

Ames seemed to hesitate but then shook his head. “No. And I don’t want you to either.”

Dean was surprised. It wasn’t in Mac’s nature to be deceitful, especially with Caleb. The earlier revelation was just one example of the man’s dedication to his ingrained belief that the truth would set you free, even if it did really screw you over first. “You want me to lie?”

“I want you to do what you’ve been doing.” Mackland glanced towards the balcony again. “At least until this job is over. It’s going to be hard enough as it is. And you all have to be on top of your game. This venture is important for many reasons.”

“I can do that.” In fact, Dean preferred it. A part of him was terrified Mackland was going to lay out the reason why he should tell Caleb. Reasons Sam had already recanted over and over again.

“But understand this, Dean.” Mackland met Dean’s gaze again. “This whole Noah Seaver situation will pale in comparison to what you will tell him. And you will be the one to tell him.”

“You don’t think I know what it will do?” Dean was painfully aware.

Mackland shook his head-the gut-wrenching look of anguish once more swirling in his gray eyes. “I’m not sure you do, Son.”

Dean felt the weight of the older hunter’s sympathy and concern for Caleb . “I’ll take care of it.”

Mackland nodded. “I will work on the research you asked for. But I’m also going to look for a way out of this.” The doctor held up his hand. “A way that won’t endanger Sam. In fact, I already have a few other theories in mind.”

Dean started to reply, but his brother’s shout from the balcony stole whatever objection he was about to offer. He and Mackland shared a knowing look. “What now?”


The warm June air rushed against Sam as he stepped onto the balcony, closing the door behind him.

Caleb didn’t turn around, but the familiar psychic touch let Sam know the other man was well aware of who had followed him out. A sick feeling of regret washed over Sam as he did a reading of his own. The older hunter’s blocks were powerful; but Sam still picked up the uncharacteristic emotions on the surface. Hurt. Fear. Regret.

Like Dean, Caleb always seemed unshakeable to Sam. They were like John Winchester in that regard, so any momentary weakness, any slight fissure in their impenetrable defenses, appeared magnified ten fold in Sam’s eyes. He always felt like a little boy again. It scared him. He didn’t know how to react. It caused the world as Sam knew it to skew. They, the mighty hunters, had protected him his whole life, he felt daunted and smothered by the shadow of it. Sam was inept at having the roles reversed. His anger grew.

“I’m not going to jump, Sam. So you can go right back inside and report to Mac.”

Caleb’s sharp tone snapped Sam from his thoughts. He shielded his eyes against the bright sunlight and joined Reaves at the railing, his gaze going out to the cityscape below. “It’s definitely a long way down.” Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye. “Probably wouldn’t feel a thing.”

The older psychic snorted. “You encouraging me, Sammy?” He turned his face to Sam, lifting a brow. “Maybe thinking about giving me a push?”

Sam shook his head, enjoying the scenery once more. “Nah. Dean would never forgive me.”

Caleb nodded. “Good to see you’re thinking about someone else for a change.”

Sam turned and leaned against the railing so he was facing Caleb. “This where you tell me again what a selfish bastard I am?”

“I’ve never said that,” Caleb replied, quietly.

“You’ve thought it.” Sam licked his lips. He could not really blame Caleb. There were times when he had been selfish.

“From time to time.” Caleb shrugged. “Had the same revelation about myself over the years too. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Not even Dean?” Sam wasn’t sure where that question had come from. Maybe it escaped from that little black hole in his heart where he felt he fell short of what everyone thought he should be. But he was pretty certain he didn’t mean for it to be voiced aloud.

Caleb frowned. “Is that a trick question?”

“No.” Sam sighed. “Just a stupid one,” he muttered, feeling it had been a manipulative one too.

They shared a moment of weighted silence before Sam garnered his courage. “Look, Caleb. About what I said in there…”

“Yeah?” Caleb faced him, a closed expression on his face. “What about it?”

Sam made a conscious effort not to look away. “I’m just really pissed.” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but then he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say, especially with the secret of his own recent demise between them.

“It got anything to do with what’s been in your craw for the last few days?”

Sam had thought he was hiding things pretty well. He’d followed along on the trip to Vegas, spoke right on cue, laughed when he was supposed to. Caleb knew him better than he thought.

“Maybe.” He couldn’t tell him about Dean. About what his idiotic big brother had done to save him. He couldn’t tell Caleb they both were going to lose a brother.

“I would say I’m not a mind reader; but we both know that’s not true.” Caleb squinted, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “I’ve been respecting the privacy thing, though.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s bull. I’ve gotten too good at blocking you.”

Caleb smirked, but inclined his head in resignation. “I’m a damn good teacher.”

“You are.” Sam swallowed thickly. Caleb had been there for him. Answering questions, patiently listening to Sam ramble about his fears over the last year. He’d trusted him with his journal, offered him advice when he asked for it and sometimes when Sam didn’t request it. “But I’m still mad as hell.”

“Join the club.”

Sam palmed his eyes. “I’m so pissed at Jim, Dad, Mac…” He looked at the other psychic. “And you.” He had gone beyond being mad at his brother. Sam needed to focus his frustration somewhere.

Caleb exhaled heavily. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Sam ignored the glibness. He was quite certain his argument was a valid one. If he only presented it right, then surely Caleb would see. “On one hand I understand the cloak and dagger stuff surrounding The Triad. All the logistics and principles of it at least. But on another…I mean, don’t you see it, man? They plotted our lives for us. They set us on a course that we had no say in; that we couldn’t escape. It’s worse than indentured servitude or an arranged marriage.” It was the idea of having no control that scared Sam the most. It should have terrified Caleb.

“Yeah.” Caleb laughed. “Me, you, and Deuce ‘til death do us part.”

“I’m not joking,” Sam snapped. Sometimes he just wanted to shake his brother and Caleb for their smart-assed replies. There were some things that shouldn’t be joked away. “This is my life I’m talking about. I didn’t have a fucking choice.” He was a baby when the demon tainted him. His whole life had been a lie.

Caleb took a step forward, bringing him into the other man’s personal space. “And just what kind of life do you think you would have had without The Brotherhood, Sam? You think John would have just gone back to working in the garage? Remarried maybe? Have you forgotten what happened to your pal, Max?”

“You’re missing my point!”

“What is your point, Sam?” Caleb demanded. “You still pissed because you think I got to choose my position? Wear the ring?"

Sam didn’t miss the fact that Caleb stared pointedly at his naked finger. The insinuation inched his anger up a notch. “You wanted it, Caleb! You’ve always wanted to be a hunter.” That was what worried Sam the most. How their wants could so easily be used against them.

“I wanted it?” Caleb threw his arms up in frustration. “You think I wanted my parents to die? You think I wanted to be a thirteen year-old orphan who found out he was a freak of nature in time to watch his grandmother die? Or maybe I wanted to be charged with a double homicide and then nearly killed by crazy Daniel Elkins. Yeah. That sounds about right. Every kid’s fucking dream.”

Sam looked down at his hands, fisted them tightly around the iron rail. “No.” He lowered his voice. “That’s not what I meant.” Although, it all made sense in a twisted, ironic way. Things had started making too much sense to Sam after his last encounter with the yellow-eyed demon. Sam had once said it. The demon liked to push people. People could be pushed into becoming anything.

Mom’s death pushed Dad to become a hunter. Dad became The Knight-offering his children up in battle. Dad’s obsession pushed Dean to protect them. Dean would do anything for his father-for Sam. Even sell his soul. Jess’s death pushed Sam back into hunting, back to The Brotherhood-to his role as the next Scholar.

Caleb took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You think I got to choose, Sammy? Then you tell me where in the hell my choice was.”

Sam met the intense gold gaze. Caleb was pushed by his need to belong to something-anything better than what he had come from. He needed to vindicate himself-to believe he was worthy. It pushed him to be the best Knight the Brotherhood would ever know.

They were both led by tragedy to very powerful positions. “Do you ever think that might have been the plan from the beginning? Take all our other choices, so we had to choose the life they wanted.” Like herding cattle, leading them to slaughter.

“What?” Caleb rubbed at his forehead a look of frustration marring his features. “What the hell are you talking about, Sam? Jim didn’t take anything from us.”

“I’m not talking about Jim and The Brotherhood, damn it. What if something or someone else also wanted us to end up in power?” Sam thought about it all the time. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was…but it wasn’t anything normal or natural. Not anymore. “You and me. We’re not your typical candidates for Knight and Scholar. Isn’t that what a lot of the other hunters say? What Griffin Porter tried to convince Jim of?”

“Sam, I might be marked by that yellow-eyed sonofabitch. But you are not!” Caleb reached out and wrapped his fingers around Sam’s forearm. “You’re thinking about this too much. Using that huge brain of yours to see conspiracies that aren’t there. Understand me? There’s nothing wrong with you. Scholars are traditionally psychic. It’s always been that way. It was Merlin’s gift to them. Just like your abilities are gifts.”

A rush of affection washed over Sam. Memories of countless pizzas, reluctantly told bedtime stories and pencil-sketches of mighty dragons flooded his mind. Caleb still wanted to protect him. Sam wanted to return the favor. “You don’t know everything, man.”

“I know enough.” Caleb let him go. “I know you.”

“But our abilities…” They were so similar in nature.

“We’re nothing alike,” Caleb said again, seeming to understand exactly what Sam was getting at.

Sam watched as the older hunter winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And don’t listen to anything Griffin Porter or his lackeys have to say.”

No matter what Caleb wanted to believe, Sam knew better. He and Caleb were alike, more similar than Caleb could know. The same blood ran through their bodies, insidiously laying its demonic traces.

Sam wanted to explain about the dream the yellow-eyed monster had shown him. He wanted to explain why he was so worried. Why he wasn’t trying to be a bastard; but hoping to stop even more horrible things from happening. Sam cleared his throat, attempting to keep his voice from sounding as broken and unsure as he felt. “He did something to me, Caleb.”

Reaves whipped his attention back to Sam. “Who did something to you? Griffin?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. There was a dangerous glint in Caleb’s gold eyes. One Sam was used to seeing from Dean. Caleb would kill or be killed to keep Sam safe. But he couldn’t protect Sam from himself. It was all getting so complicated-spiraling out of control. “Back when I was in that town…when Jake and the others were competing…” Sam hesitated.

Caleb tilted his head, his frown growing. "You never told me exactly what happened there.”

Sam opened his mouth, but Caleb’s frown quickly turned into a grimace. He watched as the older psychic brought both hands to his head, inhaled sharply.

“Caleb?” Sam reached out and steadied the other hunter as Caleb staggered.

“Damn it!” Caleb swore, bending at his waist, both hands now pressed against his temples.

“What’s wrong? Is it a vision?” Sam watched his friend fight against the assault. It looked like a vision. He knew all too well from experience what that was like, the skull-splitting sensation of shifting to another dimension-the agonizing awareness of being torn from the moment and being cast into the future where something terrible was waiting for you. Since Jake, and his new found life he was no longer plagued by visions, but he could sympathize.

Caleb shook his head. “Sam,” he gasped and glanced up at the younger man through glassy, unfocused eyes. “Something's…wrong.”

Sam’s chest clenched. “Caleb?” He barely caught the other psychic in time as Caleb’s legs gave way. Sam sank to his knees under Caleb’s weight, but he managed to keep them from hitting the ceramic tiled surface with much force. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Caleb jerked in his arms, took a gasping breath as if he couldn’t bring in enough oxygen. “I…I can’t ...”

“Caleb!” Sam snapped, gripped his friend’s shoulders as one of Reaves's hands went to his upper chest, near the base of his throat, while the other remained on his head.

“Can’t…” Caleb let go of his head, fumbled to find perch on Sam’s shirt, before his fingers tightened desperately in the fabric. His sentence trailed off punctuated only by a shattering silence.

Sam registered the sound, or lack there of, instantly. Caleb wasn’t breathing. “No,no,no…” Sam muttered as he struggled to get the other man laying flat on the balcony. “Don’t do this.” Visions didn’t cause someone to stop breathing. They made you feel like you were dying; but they didn’t kill. What the hell was going on?

Caleb’s eyes fluttered then rolled back in his head. His body went still. His grip slid from Sam’s shirt, hand flopping with a deadened thud onto the tile. “Dean!” Sam yelled, fear seizing him. “Dean!” Sam looked over his shoulder, through the glass doors. Help was just beyond them. “Mac! “


Sam’s shout was panic driven. Mackland recognized the underlying mixture of distress and alarm. From the worried look on Dean’s face as he ran towards the balcony, Mackland was sure the younger hunter heard it too.

Mackland had believed there was a clinically sound reason he had formed no intimate bonds in his early years. He attributed it to the loss of his mother as a baby and no substitute bonding with his father. His choice of profession helped to keep him distant from others, high upon a sanctimonious pedestal. He could be in the company of others, but not truly connected to them. At the time he liked it; was entirely comfortable with it.

His accident changed that. No longer was the revered Doctor Ames untouchable. He needed people. People to feed him, dress him and perform the most basic of functions necessary for existing. It was as humbling as it was humiliating. And it taught him an invaluable lesson.

Somewhere during those long months, Mackland decided he didn’t only need other people; but he wanted them in his life. He began to crave the relationships. It was as if a fog had lifted and through the clearing he was finally able to see that although there was a risk in inviting intimacy and companionship; there was also unimaginable rewards. Then people started to enter into his life, seeing the opening- Missouri Mosley, Jim Murphy, John Winchester.

Caleb Reaves came to him.

Mackland had never imagined himself a father before the thirteen-year-old fell into his life. In fact, he often laughed outright when his own father, Cullen Ames suggested such preposterousness. Now he could not imagine himself as anything but a parent

During the months of hearings to keep Caleb legally in his custody, Mackland had done a great deal of bargaining with Caleb’s guardian, Bird, the courts and God. He had never wanted anything quite so much and it terrified him.

The doctor promised Caleb would be his priority. It was one of the reasons Mackland never returned to high-profile surgery. Why he only pursued women discreetly and never for anything more serious than a casual reciprocity. For twenty years Mackland had been dedicated to giving Caleb anything and everything he could fathom his son needing.

But finding Caleb lifeless on the balcony sent shards of guilt and fear lancing through him. He hadn’t been steadfast with his son as of late. Mackland had been consumed with his position as Scholar, dealing with the grief of losing not only one, but two, dear friends. Then there was his more selfish pursuit-his friendship with Esme.

As he knelt by his son, instinctively starting a precursory scan of his condition, Mackland couldn’t help but wonder if he had missed something-some sign his child wasn’t well. He wished he hadn’t surprised Caleb with the truth about Noah Seaver. He should have found another way other than cruel bluntness.

“Mac?”

Sam’s stricken voice brought Ames from his recriminating thoughts. He continued the exam, but glanced at the youngest Winchester. “What happened, Sam?”

“Damien?” Dean kneeled at Caleb’s head, his hand hovering over the older hunter. “Caleb?”

“We were talking…and then it was like he was about to have a vision. But…”

“But what?” Dean demanded before Mackland could. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” Sam snapped. “He said something was wrong and then he couldn’t catch his breath.”

“Respiration is still compromised,” Mackland reported, more to himself than the boys. He let his hand rest on Caleb’s neck, feeling a thready pulse. Caleb’s heart hadn’t stopped. “Dean, clear his airway.”

Dean quickly did as the doctor ordered; tilting Caleb’s head back with practiced skill. He leaned down, his cheek only centimeters from Caleb’s mouth. “Nothing, Mac.” Dean’s earnest gaze locked on Ames. “Do something.”

Mackland quickly went through the methods of addressing an unresponsive victim. Nothing roused Caleb or garnered a reaction. “Damn it.”

“Should we start CPR?” Dean asked. “Mac?”

“Sam, you said he was having a vision?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. That’s what it looked like.”

“We need to stop it.”

“Stop what?” Dean demanded. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“I think Sam’s right.” Mackland glanced at his son’s face. Caleb’s eyes were rapidly moving beneath his closed lids. “It’s a vision. Not a typical one. No,” Mackland admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not.”

“And just how the hell do you stop a vision?” Dean looked at his brother. “I’ve never had any fucking luck bringing Sam out of one.”

“Sam can do it.”

Mackland watched the boy shrink back.

“I can?”

“Yes. With your connection to Caleb, you can.” The doctor was almost certain. For Caleb’s sake he hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking.

“But Mac…I don’t know if I still have…”

“We don’t have time for further speculation or discussion, Samuel.” Mackland reached out and grabbed hold of Sam’s hand. “You remember in the hospital in Texas? You found him when he was in the coma. Do it now, Sam. Just look for him. Connect with him. It should be enough to break whatever he’s linked into.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. He glanced at his brother. “I’ll try.”

Mackland placed Sam’s hand over Caleb’s. “That’s all I ask, son.”

It only took a moment. Sam closed his eyes. His brow wrinkled in concentration. He flinched and then Caleb jerked abruptly as if waking from a bad dream.

Mackland felt the weight of fear flee his body as his son took one gasping breath, then another. “Easy.” Mackland laid a hand on Caleb’s chest as his eyes snapped open and he began to cough. “Nice and easy.”

“Damien?” Dean placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “You back with us?”

“What…the hell?” Caleb sputtered. He groaned as he tried to push himself up from the balcony floor.

“Take it slow,” Mackland cautioned, but allowed Dean to help Caleb to an upright position.

“No worries.” Caleb brought a shaky hand up to his head. “Only speed going right now, Dad.”

“That’s good. Until we know exactly what happened…”

“Vision,” Caleb interrupted, glancing towards Sam who was on his other side gripping Caleb's hand He took a ragged breath. “Sort of. Want to ease up there, Tiger? Your brother didn’t have that death grip during the rollercoaster ride in Vegas.”

“Sorry.” Sam let go, but remained close. “Are you okay?”

Caleb forced a half grin. “I can breathe.”

“Son, what happened?” Mackland had claimed Caleb’s hand now and was proceeding to take his pulse. “Do you remember what you saw?”

Caleb shook his head. “Not much. It was dark. And I couldn’t breathe-like I was smothering. And it was fucking cold. ” He shivered, pulled away from his father. “I’m okay.”

Mackland rocked back on his heels, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His son was shaken and not being completely honest. “Were you connecting with something?”

Caleb rubbed his neck. “I felt like it was happening to me…I must have been linked with the victim.”

“That’s atypical.” Mackland’s concern grew. “But it has happened before.”

His son must have realized the time he was alluding to because Caleb’s eyes filled with fear as he looked at Dean. “When Dean was in danger-before that psychopath took him.”

Dean shook his head. “One freaking time doesn’t make a pattern, Dude. And if you remember, you ended up with a bullet for your trouble. This could be about you.”

“Dad?” Caleb refocused on his father, struggling to get to his feet. “You said that Griffin and his boys needed Dean to open the damn door. Ian and that bitch Meg probably figured the same thing.”

Sam and Dean steadied Caleb as he made it completely upright.

“I can take care of myself,” Dean commented.

Caleb ignored him. “Do you think this vision could be some kind of Knight thing? A warning?”

“I don’t know.” Mackland sighed. There was so much about The Triad he didn’t know. “Knights have a bond to their charges, but no Knight has had your abilities.”

“Never had a demon in the position either.”

“Come on, man,” Dean growled. “Drop that shit.”

Caleb started to protest, but Mackland interceded. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I told you I’m fine.” Caleb stepped forward, away from Dean and Sam.

He swayed slightly and Mackland shook his head at the stubbornness he was certain was a requirement of all Knights. There was no point arguing. He had learned that from John.

“Then let’s have lunch and get on with our discussion.”

On cue, Joshua’s voice rang out from inside. “Lunch is served.”

The blond hunter hovered in the open doorway from the balcony. He was holding a box and his critical gaze swept over Caleb. “What happened?”

"He had a vision that didn't agree with him," Dean replied. “Nothing for the help to concern themselves with.”

Joshua gave Dean a heated look before turning away. Mackland rubbed his neck as he watched the blond disappear into the kitchen where he heard a few cabinets opening and then the buzz of the microwave. “You’re going to have to find a better way to deal with him, Dean.”

Dean followed Mackland inside, still shadowing Caleb. Sam closed the door behind them, following his brother to the couch.

“Is termination an option?” Dean raised a brow. “Do I get to decide who’s out?”

“Careful how you answer, Mac.” Sam took a seat beside Caleb. “He’s not above putting a horse head in Josh’s bed.”

Mackland didn’t get a chance to reply to the Godfather reference as Joshua returned to the living room with a piping cup. He strode to the couch and stopped in front of Caleb.

"Here, drink this."

Dean peered inside the cup. “What is it?”

“Hot water and some spices for clarity. Nothing sinister unless Macland's spice rack is mislabeled. I assure you it will help.”

Macland hadn't realized he had a spice rack. He was no longer as suspicious of Joshua's herbal remedies, but Dean was, he noted the younger hunter's clenched jaw.

“We don’t need your kind of help, Josh.”

“Deuce,” Caleb took the cup. “Drop that shit.”

Caleb drank Joshua's concoction and grimaced.

“You’re welcome,” Joshua said snidely. Mackland wondered if Joshua purposefully made his brews taste worse when it came to his sons and the Winchesters.

Caleb took another drink and exhaled. The color in his face seemed to be improving. “Thanks.”

Joshua smirked at Dean, but then his eyes narrowed. Sawyer snatched something from behind the younger hunter. “What's this?" He waved a silk scarf of muted earth tones in front of them.

Mackland winced, recognizing the article. At that moment he was glad Dean was boisterous.

Dean snorted. “Looks like a piece of frilly fu-fu apparel. Did you forget it on your last visit?”

Joshua’s face reddened. “It’s my mother’s. I bought it in Paris.”

“Did you buy them in bulk to hand out for suck-up souvenirs?” Caleb asked. “Maybe one of The Geek Squad left it?”

“Joshua…” Mackland started.

“This is my mother's,” Joshua snapped. “What’s it doing here?” He sought out Mackland. “What am I doing here?”

Dean’s grin grew and he turned a mischievous gaze to Ames. “Why, Mac, you’re just full of surprises today.”

“Boys.” Mackland warned, wishing he was more respected and feared than a favorite, doting uncle.

“Isn’t it obvious, Josh?” Dean looked at the blond and bobbed his eyebrows. He gestured to the couch. “Items are often left at the scene of the crime. Especially if it’s a crime of passion.” His smile faded. “But why are you here?”

"I was in town on business helping a client of the firm." Joshua crossed his arms, and still kept his gaze leveled on Mac.

Mackland was relieved for the change in subject, and about to answer when Sam interrupted.

"Halle Berry?" Sam asked.

Mackland, Dean and Caleb stared at the youngest hunter.

“What?” Caleb and Dean asked at the same time, also confused by the odd and out of the blue query.

Mackland rubbed at his weary eyes, wondering not for the first time where Jim Murphy found his reserve of patience.

"How do you know about Halle Berry?" Joshua asked Sam.

"I started watching those entertainment shows. Does anyone else think Brittany Spears is possessed?"

Mackland covered his mouth. He praised Sam's intelligence, but as he had warned television had effected his mental acuity.

Sam waved his hand. "Anyway, I swear I saw you escorting Halle Berry."

"Dude, entertainment shows?” Dean shook his head at his brother. “You are a girl."

Caleb snorted. "Way to keep yourself out of the public eye, Josh. So what's Halle Berry like?"

"I'm not answering that." Joshua uncrossed then recrossed his arms. "Aren't you concerned about your father and my mother?" Sawyer again focused his glare on Ames. "I would like some answers. Is this some sort of loyalty test? I know about Ian’s traitorous turn against The Brotherhood.”

“This isn’t a test of your loyalty, Joshua.” Mackland took the scarf from the hunter. “Nor is it time to talk about the relationship I have with your mother.”

“Relationship?” Caleb piped up.

Mackland gave his son a hard glare. This was the reason they had decided to keep their romance a secret. Their children were accustomed to having their parent's sole attention. Neither Caleb nor Joshua had learned to share well. “We are here to discuss how we are going to save The Brotherhood.” He returned his gaze to Sawyer. “Joshua, you’ve worked with the other perspective Triad. Your job is to fill the boys in on everything you know about them. I want everyone briefed completely before you reach Boston.”

“I don’t know what worries me more,” Joshua muttered. “The fact I’ve been elected as your company mole or that I’m being forced to take a road trip with the likes of these three.”

Dean smirked at the blond hunter. “I’d definitely worry about the close quarters.”

“Now if that’s all settled.” Mackland stuffed the scarf in his pocket. “Let’s have lunch.” He turned to Sam and clasped the younger man on the shoulder. “I’m excited to hear all about those indiscretions you saved Caleb and your brother from.”

“Tell me there is not a slide show,” Joshua groaned, but followed Sam and Mackland. “I’ve been punished enough.”


Dean stood and caught Caleb’s arm before he could follow the others into the dining room. “Caleb, hold up.”

“Dean.” Caleb raised a brow. “We going back to being formal?”

The pained look wasn’t missed, Dean took a deep breath to try and gather his thoughts. “Damien…are you sure you’re okay?”

“That depends, Deuce. Are you referring to the freaky-assed vision that took me down like a little bitch or the part where Mac pretty much dropped a house on me?”

“I know how hard your head is, so let’s go with the Noah Seaver shit.” Caleb’s heart was much more vulnerable.

Caleb looked down at the floor, then glanced back up to meet his best friend’s gaze. “I’m not sure, man.” He slid a hand through his dark hair. “It was one thing to suspect it…but to know it’s true. It makes me doubt a lot of shit. You know?”

Dean nodded, reached out and squeezed Caleb’s shoulder. “You don’t ever have to doubt me and Sammy. We’re not going anywhere. We're in this with you.”

Reaves grinned, playfully knocked his hand away. “One for all and all for one, huh?”

The words sent a shiver through Dean. “Damn straight.” At least for a year they could be the Three Musketeers. He cleared his throat, desperately needing some normalcy. “So… Mac and Esme?” He grinned evilly at his friend. “I’ bet you twenty they’ve done it on the kitchen table.”

Caleb’s face paled. “That’s no where near funny, Deuce.”

“It’s a little funny.”

"Way to kick a guy when he's down." Caleb shook his head and he swallowed thickly. “I’m eating at the island.”

Dean snorted. “Like that’s off-limits.”

“Shut up, Deuce.”