Caleb woke with a gasp, the tendrils of a nightmare escaping like wisps through his fingers. “Sam!”

“Hey.”

A hand rested on his shoulder and Caleb squeezed his eyes shut against the sensations assaulting him. He couldn’t distinguish what misery was his and what was Sam’s. He shivered. “God.”

“Take a few breaths. It helps.”

Caleb tried to lift his head, get a look at Sam, but his body ignored his commands. He took the kid’s advice and inhaled. It didn’t help. “Liar,” he exhaled.

“Stay still and give it a minute.”

Caleb couldn’t find the energy to disobey. “Who turned the air conditioning on high?”

Sam’s face appeared above him. He was pale, dark circles beneath his eyes. “They took our jackets when they left us here." He shivered. "I couldn’t find anything to use for a blanket.”

Caleb lifted his hand, frustrated when the effort barely had his fingers twitching. The vampires had apparently been reading prisoner of war strategies. If they had completed John Winchester’s school of training they would have taken their shirts and shoes. “You’re bleeding.”

Sam dismissed the blood stains on his t-shirt. “I’m okay. Better than you.”

“Impossible.”

“Liam took your insults to heart.” Sam glanced down at Caleb’s chest. “That or the first course is his favorite. He slowed down some before he got to dessert.”

“Don’t blame me. You heard him. He doesn’t get the chance to feast on demon very often. I must taste like prime rib.” The nightmare about vampires attacking him came back with unwelcome clarity. Too bad it wasn’t a dream. He and Sam had been a meal for the blood suckers. Sam was pressing something against Caleb’s shoulder.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sam shifted his touch, lifting the bandage to check the wound. “Chopped steak at best.”

Caleb blinked, making sure he wasn’t still dreaming. “Did Sam Winchester just make a joke about the act which should not be talked about under any circumstances, ever? Are you delusional from the blood loss, Runt?”

“Dean’s morbid sense of humor usually seems to help in these situations. Anything to make you feel better.” Sam readjusted the pressure, his serious expression reminding Caleb of John. Sam had his father's no nonsense failsafe when working a job.

Caleb swallowed hard to force the lump from his throat. Grief’s insidiousness and bad timing never failed to surprise him. His mentor often sprung to mind at times of great failure. “If I’d only known getting drained by a vampire would open up the lines of communication between us, I’d have jumped a train to Transylvania sooner.”

“We’re no longer on a train.” Sam sat back on his heels, managing a seamless redirect in the conversation. “When I came to the cuffs and chains were gone and we were here. From what I can tell, it’s some kind of root cellar. You’re not going to like it.”

Caleb lifted his head, scanning their surroundings. Not liking it was an understatement. To begin with it was a small square room with no windows. A set of stairs put together with concrete blocks in the far corner. A bare bulb hung from electrical wire, the low wattage cast an eerie glow. Caleb’s first thoughts were of a closet with better ventilation. That was enough to have bad memories mixing with his claustrophobia. There was a short rack of wine bottles fastened to one of the plank walls, and several large wooden barrels resting in the center of the floor. He focused on those instead of the close proximity and tight space. “Since when did vampires become such wine connoisseurs?”

“I don’t think those barrels contain California’s finest.” Sam brought his hand to the red spot on his shirt.

Caleb swallowed, his mouth too dry to garner any moisture. The strong coppery scent permeating the room registered with him now. “What happened to not drinking dead man’s blood?”

“It was probably taken when the supplier was still alive. I have a theory that as long as the victim’s heart is still beating, the vampires can safely drink their blood.”

“That’s a warm and fuzzy thought.”

Sam removed the bandage, looking satisfied that the bleeding had stopped. “I guess it’s always good to have some on hand in case you’re called to entertain.”

Caleb made it to his elbows with a grunt. “Vampires entertain?”

Sam reached out and helped him to sitting. Caleb was thankful for the wall behind him as he rested against it. They were both panting from the effort.

“Maybe all the Hollywood exposure has made them more social.” Sam rested beside him. Caleb felt the younger man’s shivering when their shoulders touched.

“New Moon parties? True Blood bashes?” Caleb smirked thinking about Castiel’s fetish for all things vampire. “Another reason besides the Lakers to hate California.”

“I won’t be moving there anytime soon.”

Caleb leaned his head against the wall, and turned so he could see Sam. “We need to get out of here before we’re invited to the festivities. We could end up donating to one of the barrels, or worse end up al fresco.”

Sam pulled his knees to his chest, hugging his arms around them for warmth. “Escaping would require us standing up. Trust me when I say that’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Have you looked around?”

“A little.” Sam shot him a sideway glance. “We’re pretty far underground, but I made it to the top of the stairs. The hatch is solid wood and barred from the outside. This place is like a tomb.”

“It could be our grave.” Caleb licked his lips, knowing dehydration was a real possibility, as well as shock depending on how many liters Liam had taken from them. If he was guessing correctly, they had gone without liquids for over twenty four hours. “We need water.”

“I don’t think Liam and his buddies care much about catering to us.”

“They obviously don’t want us to die too quickly.” Although it seemed they hoped to make them as miserable as possible.

“Dean will get here in time.”

“Sure he will.” Caleb closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on his best friend. He followed the psychic thread in his mind that would have usually taken him straight to Dean. Instead of connecting with the bright blue energy he recognized as The Guardian, he felt a darkness tug at him. He was free falling. Sam’s voice called to him from far away, his touch grounding him.

“Caleb!”

“I’m alright.” He growled, bringing his hand to his head. His ears were ringing, shooting stars bursting behind his tightly shut eyelids. “Fuck.”

“That was stupid.” Sam let go of his wrist. “There’s no way you can use your abilities like this.”

“I was thinking we needed a rescue. Do you have a better plan?” Caleb opened his eyes, gritting his teeth as three Sams swam before him like a Van Gogh painting.

“Rendering yourself unconscious isn’t the answer." Sam levelled another John Winchester look in his direction, the perfect amount of disappointment and exasperation. "You’ll just leave me alone to try and figure things out on my own.”

“You are The Scholar.” Caleb let his head bang against the wall, frustrated that his abilities were betraying him. “Thinking and planning is part of the job description.”

“But you’re the muscle.”

“I don’t see me pulling a Popeye any time soon.” Caleb hated feeling helpless. The idea that Liam and his undead goons could obviously come in and do whatever they wanted to Sam sent a surge of fury through him.

Sam smirked. “Where’s a can of spinach when we need it?”

“You really are channeling Deuce today, smart ass.” Caleb was glad Dean wasn’t with them, and not just because it increased their chance of rescue. One Winchester in peril in at a time was all he could handle.

“I’m trying.”

Caleb shifted higher on the wall, glancing at the younger hunter. Sam’s short, clipped answers were unsettling. Diatribe was usually Sam's strong point. “You know, you may be onto something with the whole spinach thing.”

“Like?” Sam drew out the syllable, his brow furrowing.

“I might not be able to Hulk-out, but you could.” Caleb lifted his bandaged arm. “It’s not like Liam hasn’t got a good flow going. What’s another pint if it will get us the hell out of here?”

“What? No way.” Sam’s face twisted in anger at the suggestion. “That’s nowhere close to funny, even for your morbid sense of humor.”

“It wasn’t a joke, man.” Caleb knew the idea was a sore subject for Sam, but wasn’t above using any means to save their lives at this point.

Sam angled his body towards him, his jaw clenching. “How could you even suggest that? You know what it’s been like for me-how I’ve struggled. The promise I made to Dean-to myself.”

“Certain death has a way of bringing out the worst in me.” Caleb shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “Desperation is an ugly thing. Dean understands survival comes before anything.”

“Of course he does.” Sam hugged his arms over his chest, shivering. “He learned that from Dad.”

“I’m just saying it could be an option if Deuce doesn’t get here and things look worse for us.” Caleb hated the look of hurt that flashed in Sam’s dark eyes, but he wasn’t about to let a bunch of vampires take them out, or worse,turn them. “We could at least put it on the good old round table as a possibility.”

“It’s permanently off the table.” Sam glared at him, hurt igniting to cool anger. “I’m not drinking any demon blood, especially yours.”

Caleb sighed. He was more than familiar with the ‘end of discussion’ look in Sam’s dark eyes. John Winchester would never be completely gone as long as his youngest son drew breath. “Sammy…”

“Don’t ‘Sammy’ me.” Sam set his jaw. He was pissed; Caleb knew he would have to perform some sort of penance before he was forgiven. “If you’re lucky I won’t tell Dean you suggested it.”

“You’re threatening to tell The Guardian on me?” Caleb groaned. He hadn’t expected that. “We’ve been the Triad how long and you’ve already morphed into Mac.”

“Better than you emulating Dad.” Sam shook his head. “The fact that idea even crossed your mind shows how much he warped you. You can be just like him sometimes.”

“Me?” Caleb wanted to cry pot and kettle. “I’m warped?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see if your high and mighty convictions are so gratifying when good old Liam is helping himself to another serving of prime rib.”

“Chopped steak,” Sam clarified.

“Whatever.” Caleb gestured to the block staircase. They both heard the bar being removed from above, a latch clicking. “They’re coming, probably for another course.”

Sam struggled to his feet, reaching a hand down to help Caleb up. “You’re not going to guilt me into it.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of damaging your newly calibrated moral compass.” He took a deep breath once he was on his feet, willing the dizziness to fade. He wasn’t so stubborn to shake off Sam’s steadying hand, but he edged out in front of the younger hunter determined to be, if nothing else, a shield.

Sam gripped his elbow tighter, not happy with the move. “You’re an ass.”

“That may be true.” Caleb took another step, putting himself more squarely between the stairs and Sam. “But I’m still The Knight and that means I’m the hunter in charge.”

“That’s not how it works and you know it.”

“Check the handbook. It’s all there.” Caleb might not be able to stop Liam, but he would at least make it difficult. “They’ll have to go through me first.”

Caleb’s brave attempt held little ground against Liam and his entourage. He and Sam were manhandled up the stairs, dragged through a more typical wine cellar, and then into a house that looked nothing like Dracula’s castle. Caleb likened it more to his grandfather’s mansion in Rhode Island.

The entranceway boasted a mosaic floor reminiscent of the churches he’d studied in Italy, a marble stairway, a cathedral ceiling complete with an ornate Murano glass chandelier. The architecture and art made it hard for Caleb to focus on scanning the place for possible exits as they were pushed along. Dizziness from the blood loss didn’t make assessing the layout any easier.

They were taken to a library in the east wing where Caleb ignored the wall tapestries and the fresco of The Annunciation on the dome ceiling. He stared straight ahead at the ivory fireplace, angels carved in relief at each side. The room was stunning. Caleb had eyes only for the man standing in front of the roaring fire.

He looked Sam’s age, but in vampire years that meant little. His hair and eyes were dark, and he was dressed better than Josh, which considering their Advisor’s panache for designers such as Canali and Armani was saying a lot.

“Who the hell are you?” Caleb shrugged out of Liam’s grip, relieved when he held his own weight and his voice didn’t betray how shitty he felt.

“Beckett asks the questions, hunter.” Liam shoved Caleb.

Caleb managed to stay on his feet. He sent a seething glare over his shoulder to the red-haired vampire, who was wearing his leather coat, along with the scabbard for The Talon. Caleb was determined to cut his head off with a dull, plastic knife.

“It’s alright, Liam. The prisoners have a right to know who I am.”

“And why we are being held here,” Sam said.

Caleb turned his gaze to Sam, who had stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. The kid hadn’t faired their mad dash any better than Caleb. Beads of sweat dotted his face. He looked ready to puke on their host’s expensive Persian rug. Caleb hoped Dean and a rescue party were on their way.

“Please have a seat and I’ll explain.” The man gestured to two wingback leather chairs.

Caleb and Sam didn’t move.

“Suit yourself.” The man moved to a desk off to the right, picking up a folder from a stack. “I’m Beckett Moreau. I had you brought here to face charges.”

“Charges?” Caleb clenched his fists. “What kind of charges?”

“Murder charges.” Beckett crossed the room, offering the file to Sam as if they were willingly partaking in a business meeting. “I believe you were a student of the law, Mr. Winchester. It’s all in there.”

“These look like sworn affidavits.” Sam studied the documents, glancing up at Caleb. “Warrants for our arrests.”

“That’s exactly what they are,” Beckett folded his hands in front of him. “The two of you are being charged in the deaths of nine vampires in Pittsburgh. Everything’s in order, I assure you.”

“Vampires aren’t leeches enough?” Caleb laughed. “They need litigators now?”

“I’m not an attorney, Mr. Reaves, although I have several in my service.” Beckett removed a leather holder from his jacket, from which he took a cigar. “I’m a business man, like my grandfather before me. He started out driving spikes for the Canadian railroad, only later to own the very company who paid him a pittance. Like my ancestors, I see opportunity where others view chaos.”

“What does bringing us up on charges have to do with your entrepreneurial effort?” Sam asked.

“I’ve followed my family’s motto. The best way to please customers, to ensure their patronage, is to simply give them what they want.” Beckett lit his cigar. Caleb recognized the smell of the Cuban quality his grandfather favored. “My colleagues want justice for their kind, a stake in this new land of opportunity. With the apocalypse at hand it’s like the Wild West all over again. I’m going to make sure they get their claim, and I their allegiance.”

“So, this isn’t just about revenge?” Caleb was beginning to understand. “You want power?”

“I want something all my money hasn’t been able to give me since my unfortunate run in with the man who made me ten years ago. I want respectability, and yes, power wouldn’t hurt.”

“So you’re making a mockery of the justice system?” Sam demanded. He thrust the file towards Beckett. “Why go to all this trouble?”

“We’re trying to be civilized about this.” Beckett reclaimed the folder. “I prefer to keep things as ‘human’ as possible.”

“You call feeding off of us civilized?” Caleb lifted the flap of his shredded shirt, revealing the reddened wound on his chest. “Nothing human about this.”

“It’s for your own good, I assure you.” Beckett waved his cigar from Sam to Caleb. “In your weakened states you’re not a threat. My associates understand that, and don’t feel a need to react. This way you can’t unwittingly do harm to yourselves whilst trying to escape.”

“How fucking thoughtful of you,” Caleb said.

“The fact we can’t alert any of The Brotherhood also has to have its appeal,” Sam said.

“The Brotherhood is not a concern of mine.”

Caleb snorted. “It will be when they break down the doors to your little villa and hang your burning corpse from the pretty chandelier in the foyer.”

Beckett smiled at Caleb “I have a very talented associate in this venture. He’s made sure we will be quite safe until the proceedings are over.”

“Proceedings?” Sam glanced at the file again. “You actually plan to have a trial?”

“No. More of a formal sentencing, then a public execution. Vampires will speak of it for centuries. Heads of nests from all over are planning to be attendance. We’ll also record it for posterity. You’ll be quite legendary, as will I.”

“You think some fake documents give you the right to kidnap us and bring us here for your own personal snuff film?” Caleb wasn’t sure he was still dreaming. Maybe waking up with Sam in the cellar was still part of his original nightmare. “Are you insane?”

“You believe a simple silver ring gives you the right to sheriff the land? Dole out vigilante justice when you deem fit?” Beckett inclined his head to Caleb’s right hand. “Correct, Dark Knight? At least I’m providing papers and giving due notice.”

Caleb made a fist, the feel of his hunter’s band fueling his ire. “The Brotherhood protects the innocent. What I do, I do in their name. Your constituents are far from that, and deserve no such consideration.”

“What you’re proposing is a power play-a propaganda scheme,” Sam said. “It has nothing to do with justice.”

“What? The Brotherhood is the only organization that can be prickly about who or what it deems the enemy. I’ve heard you work with demons. You’ve been known to spare our kind if it suits your mood.”

“You’re talking about Lenore?”

Caleb glanced at Sam. He had helped the vampire and her nest once, more to spite Daniel Elkins than in a spirit of generosity. John had him doing maneuvers for weeks after the nest escaped thanks to Caleb’s scoop. Dean and Sam had run into the same nest a few years back, Sam’s ethics getting the best of him. Caleb took refuge in the fact Lenore and her kind fed off animals, and swore not to curse any other humans with their sickness.

“Lenore doesn’t harm humans,” Sam said. “She’s reformed.”

“The nest you wiped out last year was like Lenore’s family.” Beckett shifted his dark gaze to Sam. “They were harming no one, lest it be the bovine population. You Americans enjoy your share of burgers. Eh?”

“Pittsburgh isn’t exactly booming with farmland,” Sam said. “The only mutilations in that area were human.”

“The nest resided in Washington County, Pennsylvania.” Beckett patted the file. “I believe there are plenty of farms in that area.”

“You’re wrong.” Caleb shook his head at the blatant misinformation. “Those so-called peace loving vampires we stopped were working their game out of a seedy bar in the slimiest gang infested streets of The Steel City. They lived in a filthy abandoned warehouse not two blocks away from it and corpses littered the premises, not to mention they were infecting people left and right.”

“That’s not what my witness says.”

“There were no witnesses.”

“Caleb…” Sam started.

Caleb threw his hands in the air. “You think I care if this bastard knows I ganked a bunch of his buddies? I’m a hunter. We’ve been killing vampires for thousands of years, almost to the point of extinction. I’m as about as guilty of a crime as your average rodent exterminator.”

Caleb sensed Liam moving forward, but one look from Beckett stopped his henchmen. “Now is not the time for final arguments. You’ll have your say before the hanging.”

“Hanging?” Caleb’s mind was reeling. “You think you’re going to hang us.”

“It was a toss up between that and burning you at the stake. My associate balked at that one. It’s a touchy subject concerning his ancestry.”

“Who’s this associate?” Sam asked.

“Who the hell cares,” Caleb snarled. As far as he was concerned that was the least important part of what this lunatic was raving about. “When The Guardian finds out what you’re planning he’s going to make what Sam and I did to that nest in Pittsburghlook like fucking Woodstock.”

Beckett didn’t seem concerned in the least, which proved to Caleb he was in fact, full on buckets of crazy. “That would require him finding you, and as I’ve said, I don’t believe that’s going to happen before tomorrow evening.”

“Why take that risk?” Sam asked. “You have to know what will happen to you.”

“If merely killing you had been my intention, you’d be dead.” Beckett made his way back to the desk, putting down his cigar, dropping the file on top of the stack. He took a seat on the edge. “Any run of the mill vampire could get lucky and take out a hunter of high caliber, but only a leader could do the unthinkable and bring The Triad to its knees. I need to prove to those who doubt me that I have their best interests at heart. That I can deliver on what I promise.”

“You do realize you’re not only stirring up The Brotherhood, you’re giving Lucifer the finger.” Caleb let his gaze trail Beckett.

“You have to know his plans for me,” Sam said.

“It’s one of the reasons I chose to act now. The apocalypse is affording us momentum for a new order. We are on a precipice. Lucifer needs to see we are more than the humans he holds in such low regards. We may even be a formidable ally.”

“Lucifer is going to be pissed you’re sucking on his future meat suit like a Slurpee from the Gulp and Go.” Caleb thrust a finger in Beckett’s direction. “And as for The Brotherhood, you obviously haven’t figured The Guardian into the equation.”

“My brother will make sure you’re the first vampire he kills,” Sam agreed.

“Then he’ll mount your head on a fucking spear and carry it into the trenches where he and The Brotherhood will finally finish off what’s left of your kind.”

Beckett wasn’t rattled by their confidence. “The hard thing about being The Guardian is that he no longer has the extravagance of putting his needs or wants before that of the obligation to those he serves. He is the ultimate figurehead. There are so many people to answer to, not only his Triad, but also his closest constituents and supporters, not to mention innocent charges.”

“If you go through with this, nothing and I mean nothing will stop Dean from destroying you.” Caleb had complete faith in his declaration.

Beckett rubbed his neatly trimmed goatee, his dark eyes flashing. “Vampires have prospered in the last decade. There are numerous nests in Texas, for instance. We like the wide open spaces. Kansas. Boston. Washington D.C. New York City is a popular locale. It’s easy to get lost in Manhattan. Even a powerful Guardian can’t be everywhere at once.”

Caleb understood the loosely veiled threat to their closest friends, family. He started around the chair, but Sam grasped his arm. “There’s one major point you’re overlooking. We’re not guilty of what you’re saying. If you truly wanted to come off as a righteous and just hero, you’d need to prove we’re the bad guys. Falsified documents are not going to do that.”

“I might not have gone to Stanford, but I understand how invaluable a witness’s testimony can be.”

“You don’t have any witnesses.” Caleb snapped. “There was no one left!”

“I was there.” Caleb looked up as a woman entered from the far side of the room. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders. She was wearing a leather jacket and tight, worn jeans, looking as if she just dismounted the back of some guy’s Harley.

Sam took a step forward. “Kate?”

The woman, Kate smiled. “Ain’t karma a bitch, Winchester? It’s been a while.”

“It’s been longer than you’re telling,” Sam said. “You weren’t in Pittsburgh. I haven’t seen you since Colorado.”

“You can’t be a hundred percent sure of that.” Kate moved close to Sam, touching a finger to his nose. “We vampires have an amazing sense of smell. For all you know I caught the stench of hunter and hid, watching it all.”

“While we slaughtered your family?” Caleb folded his arms over his chest. “That sounds plausible. You vampires do have an amazing streak of disloyalty and cowardice.”

Beckett didn’t intercede on Caleb’s behalf this time. Liam’s punch sent The Knight to his knees with a strangled cough. It felt like the time Jim’s horse kicked the shit out of him when he and Dean were goofing off in the barn, and he startled Fat Chance while the animal was eating. Back then, the cracked ribs gave Caleb a new respect and a healthy dose of fear for horses. Liam’s lesson just pissed him off. “Son of a…”

“Whether you were there or not, you are nothing like Lenore’s kind.” Sam steered the conversation away from Caleb, but The Knight felt the younger psychic brush through his mind, checking to see if he was alright. “What is Beckett giving you for your perjured testimony?”

“Beckett is returning what was taken from me,” Kate answered.

“He’s going to revive Luther?” Sam said. “Not possible.”

“I’m talking about The Colt.” Kate’s eyes flashed black with an angry hiss. “My reward will be having my stolen property returned-with an added bonus of course.”

“Bonus?” Sam looked from Beckett to Kate. “What kind of bonus?”

“The best kind.” Kate gripped Sam’s chin. “I’m going to use the gun your father stole, the weapon he used to kill Luther, to put a bullet in your brother’s head.”