To The Victor Go The Spoils

By: Ridley C. James

Beta: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

Timeline: Pre Season Three; Follows directly after the story Temporary Remedy. I suggest reading that one as well as the Prologue to this Paper Tiger.

A/N: There is a lot of conversation in this part. But it is all important. I know this may seem like a slow build up; but I so hope it will be a huge payoff in the end. If you pay close attention there are some hints and some surprises. I promise that Caleb will find out Dean’s secret. All the boys have to face their demons in this story. They will come out changed in the end.

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Chapter 2/11

Oct 26, 1840
Dissent is growing. I have tried to be the voice of reason; but my tenuous control is slipping. Daniel fears some of the others, once trusted friends, are planning a coup. Cole plans retaliation instead of discretion, but it will only lead to his bloodshed. Daniel will make the ultimate sacrifice before he allows The Knight to be hurt. The possible threat of what was released by Noah Seaver is of secondary importance. I worry we are spiraling out of control. Our many enemies wait. The storm is on the horizon.

-
Excerpt from Samuel Colt’s journal


Mackland Ames had faced many horrors, which sent lesser men running in a panic-driven hysteria. He could withstand the aftereffects of evil, and the dreaded task of informing distraught family members of their loved one's demise, which was the emotional equivalent of being drawn and quartered.

But, he could not stand to see a woman cry.

Perhaps it was a common male weakness. The shedding of tears and small interspersed hiccups felt like nails against a chalkboard. He was thankful he was unable to read emotions as the encounter with Carolyn Sullivan would have been twice as anxiety provoking.

As it was, Mackland was at his whit's end. He wondered if it was too late to reach Esme. Perhaps she hadn’t made it to the airport. It was sexist, of course, but she could offer a gentler touch to the situation. In fact, Mackland should have convinced her to stay and deliver the news woman to woman. She and Carolyn could sit down to a hot cup of tea to commiserate on the sad state of the opposite sex. At least Alison Daughtery was there to translate.

She wasn’t one of Mackland’s biggest fans. He was quite sure she was the ringleader in the latest memo he received about the unequal treatment of women in The Brotherhood. But she was levelheaded, talented at her job, loyal to their cause and to Carolyn.

The doctor had never realized distraught females spoke a different language. Even working in the field of psychiatry had not prepared him for the unfortunate incident of a woman scorned. Carolyn was an incredibly intelligent and competent member of his research staff. She was well-mannered, congenial, and very sweet. She was also very calm and steadfast. Qualities Mackland admired. But now, in the middle of his living room, Carolyn had quite literally decompressed. She was a mess.

Her light brown hair was disheveled. Her typical professional attire was rumpled. Carolyn’s face, which was usually very pleasant and demurely understated, resembled something out of a horror film, long streaks of black stretched from her red-rimmed eyes to her chin. Mackland never understood make-up.

Ames ran a hand through his hair. “Should I get her a sedative?”

Alison gave him a look of incredulity, pulled a tissue from her purse and pressed into one of Carolyn’s trembling hands. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Dr. Ames,” she said. Mackland was quite positive she was thinking ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

Carolyn said something through the hands now pressed over her face and Mackland strained to make out the garbled declarative. "I….I’m….I…”

Alison crouched in front of her friend who was sitting on the leather sofa and then glanced up at Ames. “She says she’s sorry. She didn’t know what he was after.”

“He…He…” Carolyn stuttered, through intermittent sobs. ”And then…”

Alison patted her friend’s arm, and then shifted back on the sofa next to her friend. “He told her he loved her. That she was the only person who understood him.”

Carolyn’s slight frame shook. “And…you….he…”

Alison turned her eyes on Mackland. “You should know how stressful our job is. The demands, the deadlines. It’s rare when someone shows us praise and appreciation. Especially a hunter in the field. We rarely get the consideration that we should…nor do we get a ring for our trouble.”

Carolyn had stopped crying and stared at her friend. Alison glanced at her. “Well, it’s true.”

Mackland sighed. “I’m not blaming Carolyn for this incident, Alison.” After taking it upon himself to give Carolyn the bad news about her boyfriend, Ian, she delivered some of her own. Carolyn had found Ian going through her work files on her personal computer. He had downloaded files. At the time, she thought nothing of it. Ian explained it away as research for an upcoming job. It was research. Mackland now knew how Griffin discovered the location of Samuel Colt’s journal. “Tell her there’s no need to apologize. I just need to know what happened.” His lips thinned. “Did she ever discuss Samuel Colt with Ian?”

Alison frowned and turned back to the distraught woman. “Carolyn?”

Carolyn's face crumbled. “He found it interesting,” she howled, before covering her face in shame once more. Through the resumed tears, Mackland made out the next statement. “No one said it was top secret.”

Alison glanced up at Mackland with a challenging look. “He is a member of The Brotherhood. He wears the same ring as you.”

“I’m not accusing her of espionage, Alison.”

“Oh God,” Carolyn moaned. “Does this mean I’m going to be fired? I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You’re not being fired, Carolyn.” The sound of a door opening and laughing voices halted Mackland’s denial. ”I’m sorry, but that must be my son and the Winchesters. I invited them for lunch before I knew you two were dropping by.”

“Wonderful.” Alison breathed. “Abercrombie, Fitch, & J.Crew.”

Carolyn straightened, sniffing loudly as she clasped a hold of her friend’s hand. “Alison,” she hissed. “The Triad.”

“It’s alright,” Mackland assured. “Really.”

“Dad?” Caleb called out as he, Sam and Dean entered the spacious area.

“Told you I smelled perfume.” Dean elbowed his brother, his eyes going to the two unfamiliar women and then to Mackland. “I’m never wrong about it. It’s like my own personal sixth sense.”

“I’ll be right with you boys.” Mac inclined his head to Carolyn. “Caleb, why don’t you fix us all a drink?”

Alison glanced across the room to where the hunters were watching the scene with amused, curious looks. She met Caleb’s gaze. “A glass of Merlot, please.”

Mackland waited to continue the conversation until the boys were in the next room, but Alison spoke up first.

"What would you like us to do next?"

Mackland had an opportunity to think for a moment of the damage control this situation needed as Sam came to bring them their drinks. He gave a small smile to the younger hunter. The older boys must have pulled rank. "Thank you, Samuel."

Sam quickly backed out of the room to the safety of Caleb and his brother.

Mackland took a drink of his scotch and soda. "Contain the situation, limit information distribution until I tell you."

Carolyn nodded as she sniffed. "Yes, Sir."

Ames reached out to pat her leg, and then hesitated, feeling completely awkward. The doctor heard the door open again.

“Mackland?”

Ames recognized the voice. “We’re in here, Joshua,” Mackland called out.

Carolyn let out a moan that resembled that of a wounded animal. “Oh God! Alison!”

“Maybe we should go.” Alison stood. “Are you finished with us, Dr. Ames?”

Joshua Sawyer strode purposefully into the room like a man on a mission, pausing to give a slightly annoyed glance to Caleb and the Winchesters before zeroing in on Mackland. “I’m here per your request but I don’t…” The words died on his lips as he seemed to notice the other occupants of the room. “Carolyn?”

Mackland immediately noticed the difference between Dean, Sam, and Caleb and Joshua. The blond had been raised by women- his mother and grandmother, and because of this he easily made his way towards the distraught woman instead of shirking back to the sidelines. Mackland had to commend Esme. “Are you alright?” Joshua asked.

“I’m fine.” Carolyn smoothed down the wrinkles in her skirt. She quickly wiped at her eyes, succeeding only in making more of a mess. “Everything’s fine, Joshua.”

“Perhaps you could escort the ladies out, Joshua,” Mackland suggested, giving him an opportunity to talk to the boys. “Make sure they safely acquire a cab.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Carolyn stuttered as she stood up. She wobbled a bit, and Joshua placed a steadying hand on her arm. “We’ll be fine. Joshua just got here.”

“So he won’t mind escorting you down,” Mackland insisted. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Sawyer glanced around the room again, and then turned a charming smile to the women. “And I would definitely be the only one to fulfill that mandate.”

Carolyn actually smiled. “Okay...if you’re sure.”

Joshua held out his arm. “I am.”

“And Joshua if you would be so kind as to wait in the lobby for a delivery. I’m expecting our lunch.” Mackland added, relieved Alison and Carolyn were leaving.

Ames noticed Sawyer clenched his jaw, but answered with another tight smile. “Of course. I’ll even treat.”

Mackland smiled back. “That’s very kind of you.”

The doctor escorted them to the door, the Winchesters and Caleb near the exit. Mackland was leading the way. Joshua had Carolyn holding onto to the bend in his elbow and Alison followed. Mackland had the door open, but noticed no one was behind him.

Alison had paused in front of Caleb, Dean and Sam. “You’re Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah.” Dean gave her his most winning grin. “You’ve heard of me?”

Alison smiled and offered her hand. “Oh yes. And you’ll be hearing from me, Dean.” She returned Dean’s firm shake. “I’m Alison Daugherty.”

Mackland crossed his arms, watching the exchange. He was uncomfortable with Alison addressing Dean , knowing she was doing so because of his position of the future Guardian. No one was supposed to acknowledge the inevitable just yet.

“That’s good. I look forward to it, Alison.” Dean stated.

Alison glanced over at Mackland then returned her gaze to Dean. “I’m glad you feel that way. It’s time for a new order. Don’t you think?”

“Right. New order.” Dean repeated, but Mackland knew he had no idea as to what Alison was referring to, and in this meeting he was going to rectify that situation before Alison sent Dean a memo.

“I look forward to talking with you about it then.” Alison gave him a quick nod.

“Yeah. Me too.” Dean bobbed his head up and down.

“One more question.”

“Yes, Alison?” Dean leaned in closer.

Alison smiled. “How do you feel about Hillary Clinton?”

“Well…” Dean frowned. “I think she took that whole Monica Lewinsky think on the chin. She’s one tough cougar.”

Alison tilted her head slightly as if she hadn’t quite heard Dean correctly. “Cougar?”

“Alison?” Carolyn called, gesturing forcefully with her hand. “We’re leaving. Joshua's waiting”

"Sorry, Joshua, I'm coming."

Joshua held out his other arm to her. She accepted it, and gave him a dazzling smile. "Thank you."

"Hey, why are you nice to him?" Caleb asked.

"He sends us gifts." Alison flipped her hair.

Mackland remained as sentry at the door. He said a quiet goodbye, and then shut the door behind hem. He sighed in relief.

“Dude? Seriously? She plays for the other team?” Dean nudged Caleb, who was staring at his father.

Caleb had already crushed the younger hunter’s enthusiasm upon meeting the attractive brunette. “I’m sure, kiddo. You're not her type.”

Dean still looked pleased with the exchange. "Even lesbians like me better than you."

Sam snorted, shooting Caleb a disbelieving glance. “Let me guess, you met her at a bar and she turned you down flat?”

"Actually it was a Christmas party." Caleb nodded. “And the snub was definitely my first clue.”

“Damien, if that’s the only proof you got then half the women in Vegas were lesbians.”

“Funny, Deuce.” Caleb slapped Dean in the gut and then looked pointedly at Sam. “If you must know she introduced me to her partner, Kara, later in the evening. She’s an art student at NYU. We discussed 19th century architecture. They seemed very happy together with their tongues down each other’s throat.”

"Wow, Mac, nice to know, The Brotherhood is open minded." Dean commented and held out his hand to greet Mackland. The doctor had joined them.

Mackland accepted the handshake and gave his son and Sam a quick one armed hug.

"So what was that about?" Caleb asked.

"I'll get to that. He gestured for the boys to join him in the living room. “Though, I’d love to hear about your vacation.”

“Not really much to tell, Dad,” Caleb replied, beating Dean to the coveted leather recliner.

Mackland shook his head as Dean kicked Caleb’s feet as he passed by to grab the end of the couch. “Sam has pictures though.”

Sometimes they still acted like children. It was so damn hard not to see them as such. John’s children. His child.

“I do not,” Sam denied as he claimed the other end of the sofa.

“Oh, right.” Dean grinned wickedly. “Those are pictures Caleb took of you.”

Mackland held up a hand to stop Sam’s rebuttal. “I’d love to see them.” He remained standing in front of the coffee table. “Perhaps after this next assignment is cleared away and behind us.”

“Assignment?” Caleb asked, leaning forward. “What assignment?”

“The one I’ve called you here to discuss.”

“Does this have something to do with the crying chick, her friend, and Sawyer being invited to our welcome home lunch?” Dean asked. "It's looking more like The Last Supper with Judas being invited and all."

Mackland ignored the implication of Joshua's lack of loyalty. He knew how Dean felt about Sawyer. “Yes.”

“This should be interesting,” Caleb replied. “I thought you might be talking with Dean and Sam about other things.”

Mackland glanced at his son. “I do have to discuss some things with Dean and Sam.” He gave the oldest Winchester a pointed look. “Very important things.”

“If this is about the demons…” Sam started only to have Mackland hold up a hand.

“We’ll get to that, Samuel. But first, I need to tell you about what’s going on in the ranks of The Brotherhood”

“More hunters out to frame us or better yet kill us?” Dean queried.

“Deuce.” Caleb sighed. “Let him talk.”

“Sorry, Mac.”

"I just want you to listen." There was a lot going on in The Brotherhood, and it was cresting. "I came home yesterday evening to find an unexpected visitor. Griffin Porter was here to talk to me."

"What the hell did he want?" Caleb demanded.

"It seems as though Ian Hastings is in league with a demon. A demon you formerly knew as Meg.” Mackland saw Sam's hard swallowing.

"We kind of figured that out from my run-in with the bastards who put Caleb in the hospital," Dean pointed out. "And if you remember the guy fingered Griffin as the ringleader."

"Griffin tells me he knew nothing of Ian and the demon's plan to kill Steve Wendell or hurt Caleb."

Dean snorted, but remained silent.

"I believe him, because there is a larger problem afoot. I think implicating Griffin in that particular incident was part of Ian's plan to make sure we stayed estranged. Ian has been privy to confidential information via his now ex-girlfriend, Carolyn, who you just saw leave here. "

"Dad, you don't think. . ." Caleb interrupted his father.

Mackland raised his hand. "I don't blame her. She is a member of Mensa, but grew up sheltered and Ian took advantage of that. But her files had information on my theory that Samuel Colt was a Scholar, Griffin also made the same deduction."

"He was a Triad member and made the gun?" Sam seemed to be in awe.

Mackland gave the young hunter a small smile. "Remarkable isn’t it."

"So what's the assignment? Get rid of Ian?” Caleb asked. “With pleasure."

Mackland lifted a brow. Ian turning against The Brotherhood came as no surprise to his son and the Winchesters. He should have trusted their instincts. He knew Ian had more involvement in Caleb's incident when he was 16 years old. Mackland also should have forced Carolyn to cut her ties to the disgraced hunter once he had attacked Dean, Caleb and Sam in Tennessee. But he didn't want to interfere in a romance and trusted there would be discretion. Now, they could only move forward and learn from mistakes. “This is bigger than just Ian. Griffin came to make a proposal to work together.”

“After what he pulled in Cosby with his little psychic brain scrambler? Even if he didn't set Sam and Caleb up in that whole Steve Wyndell mess, they almost died because of Ian's and Silas's demonstration. No disrespect, but there is no way in hell I’m working with Griffin and his fanatics.” Dean stated, glancing over to his brother for support.

“You may not have a choice.” Mackland said calmly, trying to retain control of the situation.

“There are always choices.” Dean countered.

“Not in this instance,” Mackland snapped, not liking Dean using Jim's words against him. He rarely lost his patience; but the lack of sleep and worry was wearing. Dean’s mouth was not helping matters either. “Our hands may be tied. We gained an advantage when Riley, Boone's son, found Samuel Colt's journal while helping one of his professors catalog a donation, and contacted me; but now it seems it won't do us much good. “

“Dad, are you really considering this?”

“War is upon us, Caleb. Men do unthinkable things in times of war.” God. He was beginning to sound like Johnathan.

“What kind of information did Ian get from Carolyn?” Sam asked.

Sam always went for the logical side of things. It was a good balance for Caleb and Dean. “He’s seen the contents of Samuel Colt’s journal for one.”

Dean shook his head. “A journal? That’s what this is about? Caleb mentioned you were wrapped up in some kind of Indiana Jones moment, searching for the Holy Grail but...”

“I found nothing Holy I’m afraid.”

“What did you find?” Sam asked.

“Pandora’s box.”

“You know what Jim would say about that, Mac,” Dean said. “Leave it buried. We have enough trouble.”

“I can’t do that. Not now that Ian has been privy to the same information-that he is in collusion with demons.”

Dean looked at Mac. “And I still don’t see what could be so important about the journal.”

“Samuel Colt did make the gun that could kill anything,” Sam pointed out. “He also created the trap in Wyoming. It could help with the whole demon problem. Did he write about that, Mac?”

“To some degree.” Mackland answered.

“Have you got the journal?” Sam asked, looking excited.

“Not the actual journal, Riley was relieved of that. Luckily he scanned it, and we have the computer file.”

“Who took it?" Caleb questioned, no longer reclining in the leather chair.

“Griffin did or at least he paid someone to do it. They also put Riley in the hospital.”

“Damn,” Caleb swore. “Is the kid alright?”

“He is. But Griffin now has a complete set of journals, and we lost the advantage. Griffin has the books belonging to The Guardian and The Knight of Samuel Colt’s Triad, Daniel Wilmington and Cole Tanner. It seems that by putting those journals together a map is created with the location of a store of weapons and antiquities.”

“You’re shitting me? The store of weapons?” Caleb leaned further forward in his chair. “The one Griffin and his buddies were after when they kidnapped us all those years ago. They’re real?”

“We were never sure if the weapons were a true target, Son. You have to remember, even then there was no proof they existed.”

“And now there is?” Caleb relaxed back again.

“The journal talks about the weapons. Samuel and the rest of his Triad hid them, taking extreme effort to make sure they would not be found.”

“But why? Why not destroy them or why didn’t The Guardian take care of them, like Jim did?” Sam asked.

“There was an incident that caused a rift of uncertainty in the ranks. The Brotherhood experienced a time of unrest and the stability of that Triad was called into question. They feared mutiny. Hiding the objects was not only their insurance that the instruments would not fall into the wrong hands; but also a move of self preservation.” Mackland fidgeted slightly. He looked at his hands, and thought how he was going to hurt his son as the story continued.

“Talk about history repeating itself.” Dean grumbled under his breath.

“You have no idea, Dean.”

“So Ian and Griffin now think they know where these weapons are?” Sam’s frown deepened. It was a look Mac recognized.

"Yes. Even though Griffin claims Ian is no longer working for him, he fears the man or Meg was smart enough to make a copy of Tanner and Wilmington's part of the map. Along with the scanned cover he stole from Carolyn, he would have everything he needed."

“That still doesn’t explain why Griffin would come to you for help. Why not go for the stockpile and have the power for himself?” Sam asked.

“They may have the map; but not the key to the treasure chest.”

“And you’re leaving out one of the most important things, Dad. I could understand Griffin’s motives. But why exactly does a demon want antiquities? It’s not exactly like they’re powerless. Do you think Meg really needs to find some mythic weapon to do us in, now that she has about two-hundred or so relatives visiting?”

"Because Meg has a plan which could bring about the downfall of The Brotherhood." Mac stood up and took a seat on the corner of the coffee table, close to his son. “Caleb, I need you to listen to me.”

“Okay.” Caleb met his father’s gaze. ”But why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”

“You’re not.” Ames licked his dry lips. He was going to bring the world crashing down on his son. “But nothing I am going to tell you changes anything. You are still the next Knight of The Brotherhood. The same person you have always been.”

Caleb gave his father a half-assed grin. “I already know I’m adopted, Dad.”

“Mac, where’s this going?” Dean asked, all hint of mirth gone from his voice.

Ames noticed the younger man had moved forward, inching himself closer to Caleb. He wondered if Dean could sense the threat his words would bring. Mackland refocused on his son. “You have to promise me you will not go off half-cocked or try to handle this on your own.”

“Dad, just spit it out, because your Mike Brady moment is not giving me the warm and fuzzies.”

“Griffin believes Meg and Ian are after an amulet that can be found in amongst the other antiquities.”

“Okay.”

“An amulet that was first used in the 1800’s to bring forth a demon of the likes no one in The Brotherhood had ever seen. This demon had a following.”

“The yellow-eyed demon,” Sam surmised, grimly. “It was the first time a gate was opened.”

Caleb glanced down at his hands. Mackland watched him twist the silver ring around his finger. “Does Samuel Colt’s journal say who used this amulet”

“Yes.”

"Noah Seaver." Caleb leaned back, his face paling, looking like his frame could not support his own weight. “So the sonofabitch was real?”

“It would appear so.”

“And the church fire? The child?” The psychic demanded, wanting to know if the rumor about his lineage was true that he was a direct descendent of Noah Seaver. According to Daniel Elkins Noah's wife escaped with her newborn child, changed her name, but didn't realize her child was marked and would pass the curse to his descendents.

“Samuel spoke about it all in detail.” Mackland nodded. He placed a hand on his son's knee. He never wanted to be in a position to damage his son, and now he had done just that.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Dean broke the tension.

Caleb snorted. “It means I’m cursed, a direct relative of the yellow-eyed demon.”

“You’re not fucking cursed, Dami…Caleb!”

The psychic shook his head. “It’s okay. There was always a damn good chance it was all true.” He glanced to his father. “Wishful thinking on our part.”

“We don’t know what it means, Son.”

There was an unnerving silence and then Sam spoke thoughtfully. “What I don’t get, Mac is why Meg would want the amulet. What does Griffin think she’s planning to do with it? The gate has already been opened.”

“He thinks she wants to do the same thing Noah Seaver did.”

“No way!” Dean stood up. “Colt’s gun killed that yellow-eyed bastard. He’s dead! Nobody is bringing him back.”

“The dead can rise, Dean or something just as evil can take its place.” Mackland met the boy’s fiery gaze. “If one has the right tools and the appropriate motivation, nothing is impossible.”

“But Dad said…” Sam started.

“I know what your father believed, Sam.” Ames explained to the younger Winchester. “But you know things in this world are never quite as black and white as we would like them to be. I’m not saying that what Meg is planning is possible; but do you really want to take that chance? The demons would have a leader again. They would be able to refocus on whatever plan they were cooking in the first place. But there's more.”

"There always is," Dean growled his annoyance.

“Griffin believes there is also a weapon there capable of destroying us, The Brotherhood-destroying the source of the silver. We don’t know much about it.”

“But you know more than you’re saying?”

Mackland could feel Dean’s frustration. “We will discuss more about that when we get to The Boonedocks. But before you head there, I need you boys to check in with Riley.”

“Why are we going to Boonedocks?” Caleb asked, still boneless in the chair.

“We are meeting Griffin and some others there. And before you go any further- we are not stealing the map. We are going to work together.”

“And they need us, why?” Dean asked, his arms crossed.

Mackland exhaled heavily. “Finding where the weapons are is only a part of it. Samuel Colt and his Triad were very clever and careful. There are safeguards in place. Safeguards that allow only a Guardian to obtain the weapons

“But we don’t have a Guardian,” Dean challenged. “Do we, Mac?”

Mackland gave the younger hunter a hard look. He was beyond believing anything was going to work out as it should. Ames held the intelligent green gaze; something had changed in Dean over the last few months. The boy had always believed in The Brotherhood-in the fight of good against evil. Dean had always wanted to be a hunter before; but now things seemed different. Mackland decided it was time the charade was over. “I don’t know, Dean. You tell me?”

Dean clenched his jaw, brushed his thumb over the silver ring on his right hand. “You should have told us a long time ago. You, Jim and Dad. It wasn’t fair.”

“Not much in this life is.” Mackland leaned forward. “How long have you known?”

“I put it together awhile back.”

Ames nodded, glanced towards Sam. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. Jim would have talked with you all. There would have been a period of transition.”

“I’ve read about how it works,” Sam confessed. His brow creased. “I figured it out before I went to school. It all made sense to me after you gave me my ring…the way Dad was always pushing Caleb.” He glanced to his brother. “How Jim acted towards us.”

“The way Jim acted towards you had nothing to do with The Triad, Samuel,” Mackland said firmly. “Don't disgrace his memory. He loved you boys first”

“He didn’t tell me a damn thing,” Dean murmured. “And I didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us did,” Ames replied remembering when Jim asked him to be The Scholar. At the time he felt it was a calling, he was compelled to take the position.

“But Caleb got to choose,” Sam interrupted. “He wanted to be The Knight. He wasn’t kept in the dark.”

“What?” The older psychic glared at Sam. “Are you kidding me? I never asked to be The Knight.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t want to be in The Brotherhood from the beginning. You followed Dad around like a puppy. We all knew you’d be his successor.”

“Sam.” Dean leaned forward to look at his brother. “Don’t.”

“What the fuck, Runt?” Caleb looked at the younger psychic. “Hell, yes, I wanted to be in The Brotherhood, but I didn’t go around soliciting a part in The Triad. John gave me my ring, and I started to piece things together. The Knight has to be in the know to protect The Guardian and The Scholar. You're fuckin' mad at me 'cause I took on the responsibility of covering your ass? That's rich."

"You could have told us!"

"I was ordered not to!"

"And you learned to follow orders from the best."

Mackland held up a hand to intercede between the two. “Boys! This is not the time to argue amongst ourselves.” Never was that more true. “You have to provide a united front. Your every move will be watched on this job.”

“By who? Griffin?” Caleb turned his anger-filled eyes on his father. “Because I could give a flying fuck what he thinks of us.”

“Griffin will not be going on the job, nor will I or Bobby.” Mackland explained further. He spied his scotch and water at the other end of the coffee table, and reached for it. He needed the bottled courage.

“Then who the hell are the others you were talking about?”

He didn’t make eye contact with the trio, finding his drink much more interesting. “For lack of a better term, your understudies.”

“Understudies?” Caleb asked.

“They usually have at least two people in mind for each position,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. “A back-up plan. Did you and Dean ever read any of the journals?”

“What the hell for?” Caleb snarled. “I was already in the know. Remember?”

“Jim had second-stringers?” Dean asked Mackland. “You’re freaking telling me that there’s another prospect for Guardian.”

Ames frowned. The look that came across Dean’s face in that moment formed a knot in the doctor’s gut. “Not exactly. There’s only one Guardian, Dean. Jim made his choice a long time ago. The rest is a complicated process. The position has lots of mystery, and Jim didn't share it with either me or John."

“But if something were to happen to me...”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Caleb jumped on the remark. “Why the hell are you even talking about that?”

“Because it’s always a possibility, man.”

Caleb stood up. “What, you doubting me now? You think I can’t do my job? ”

“What?” Dean stepped forward. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Mackland grimaced. Caleb was personally insulted. He wasn’t sure how things had gotten so turned around. He stood up and reached for Caleb. “Son.”

Caleb backed out of his reach and started out of the room. “I need some air.”

“Damn it…Dami…Caleb.”

The psychic stopped abruptly at Dean’s fumble. He turned to his friend with a sad shake of his head. “You can say it, Deuce. Nothing’s changed between us. Right?”

"Damn it!" Dean ran a hand through his hair and started after him.

Mac caught his arm. “I’m sorry, Dean. But we’re not finished here.”

Dean tried to pull away but Ames held firm. “I need to talk to him.”

“And I need to talk to you. Alone.” Mac jutted his chin towards the youngest Winchester and then gestured to the way Caleb had gone, outside on the balcony. “Sam.”

Sam stood up from the couch. He gave his brother an apologetic look. “I’ll handle it, Dean.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Dean managed to pull his arm away from the doctor’s grasp. “Just so you know, Mac, your welcome home party sucks!”

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“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?”

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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! “

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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.”

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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.”

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Onto Chapter 3

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