Chapter 4/11

“You suck at this game.” Ethan Matthews pushed his long dark hair out of his eyes. He used his other hand to lash out at the red puck in front of him, sent it hurtling into the fiberglass bumper, then it ricocheted towards the blond at the other end of the table. “In fact, you’ve always sucked at this game.”

He grinned in triumphant as the younger man slashed right, letting the little disk skid by him into the slot with a loud whack. “My game!” Ethan threw his arms up in triumph, opening his mouth to imitate the roar of a packed stadium. “Damn, I’m good.”

“At air hockey.” Elijah Matthews lifted his gaze from the file he was studying to shake his head. “It’s something I suppose.”

Sometimes Ethan wondered how he and Elijah could be genetically identical. “Pull that cob out of your ass and pour your big brother another drink, Eli.” Ethan never grew tired of reminding Elijah of the fact he had been born eight minutes earlier. He placed his mug on the table in front of his brother. Kathleen had left them a pitcher earlier. He returned his attention to the other hunter. “Guess you haven't been practicing your air hockey skills at camp. You and the other bearded ladies been playing Scrabble and watching Dancing With the Stars? "

“Is that your way of saying you've missed me?” Gideon Lane’s mouth twitched as he folded his arms over his chest. Gideon was a smoke jumper. Fire season had started early this year due to the drought, requiring him to move to the base camp in Wyoming a month earlier than usual. Griffin had called him back for this important job. “What have you been up to between training for the air hockey nationals and finding that elusive hair product perfect for your flowing mane?”

Ethan grinned. Gideon had missed him too. His witty comeback was interrupted by Elijah’s unsolicited comment.

“Sonny Crockett trashed his latest car and lost yet another partner.” Elijah glanced at Gideon.

"You, mind your own business and keep that head in that book, Professor." Ethan pointed at Elijah. His brother was a professor at Baylor and didn’t understand the intricate workings of a cop’s lifestyle. "I dented a fender, and I didn’t lose my partner. She's knocked up."

“Tell me she happened in the family way without your help.”

Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “In the family way? What are you, eighty?”

Gideon smirked. “I’m old enough to know not to sleep with my partner.”

“That’s because your partners bench press about three hundred and have to shave twice a day. I know not to mix business with pleasure.”

Ethan guessed by the look Elijah and Gideon shared, what they were thinking. “You two are never going to let that go are you? I didn’t know she was a two-bit treasure hunting con.”

“You didn’t care.” Gideon had the grace to hide his grin with his beer.

“It wasn’t like it was the first time you got caught with your pants down.” Elijah laughed. “If Silas hadn’t found you, your naked skeleton would still be whitening in that grave.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “How about we think of a game plan for this hunt? I know how you two are big on that."

Elijah shrugged. “The arrest records you added were interesting reading.”

Ethan had used his connections to get the criminal records of the Winchesters. “Yeah. Most of the charges are bogus. But that Henrickson guy that’s breathing down their necks is one dangerous fibbie. He’d flip the switch himself if given the chance.”

“Are you sure they aren’t guilty? They are not your typical hunters. Breaking and entering, trespassing, and grave desecration are a little different than murder, kidnapping, and bank robbery.”

Ethan popped his knuckles. “Your Boy Scout side is rearing its ugly head.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Gideon said.

“I’d say they're as guilty as sin. Just like the rest of us.” Ethan couldn’t help to grin. “Except for you, of course. But not everyone has the self-restraint that you do, Saint G.”

“I don’t know, Gideon. They’re impressive.” Elijah gestured to a file. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things they’ve faced and dealt with. Shape shifters, Wendigos, and Hell Hounds.”

“They also opened the gates of hell and released two hundred demons that we now have to deal with. They have theoretically tipped the scale, jeopardizing mankind’s existence as we know it. Then there is the demon connection." Gideon grabbed one of the chairs, flipping it around before sitting on it, resting his arms against the back.

“You’re talking about the journals?” Elijah picked up the copied pages of Cole Tanner’s diary. “The information in here is nothing that Daniel Elkins didn’t theorize years ago when he tried to exorcise Reaves. Jim Murphy was well aware of Reaves's possible lineage when he chose him. He was probably suspect of Sam Winchester, too.”

“Griffin says that’s why he chose them. It was part of his plan.” Ethan understood Jim Murphy. He didn’t believe a man was completely good or evil. It depended on the situation. “It could be brilliant strategy.”

“Or faulty logic.”

“Come on, Gideon,” Elijah spoke up. “All this hype about the future Triad is just that, hype. It’s a device being used by both sides to generate conflict and distrust among the ranks. Mere propaganda. Griffin might as well print out flyers and drop them from the sky.”

Ethan frowned at his brother, his lack of loyalty to the man that was their father's best friend was surprising. “Griffin hasn’t made up one thing about the Winchesters or Reaves.”

“I didn’t say he did.” Elijah put his hands up. “We know Jim Murphy thought they’d do a good job. If he was wrong about the Winchesters and Reaves, then he could have also been wrong about us. And are you discounting Mackland Ames and John Winchester. You liked John. We all respect Mackland.”

“Must you play devil’s advocate?” Gideon asked.

“You really believe that Sam Winchester is supposed to be a ruler of Demon-kind?” Elijah retorted.

“You’ve heard what Silas, Harland, and Griffin have all said. There’s more than enough reason to believe he plays some kind of part in all that’s taken place. Besides the obvious fact, he was there when the demons were released.”

Ethan couldn’t help himself. “I hear that Reaves is also planning on conjuring the plague and calling forth a swarm of locusts.”

Gideon glared at him. “This isn’t a joke, Ethan.”

“Ellen and Bobby were there also,” Elijah pointed out. “You think they’re traitors?”

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“Then say what you mean.”

“Dad saved their lives.” Ethan said quietly, momentarily ending the verbal volley. He took a drink of his beer as the other two hunters stared at him. “He died to protect them. That should mean something.”

“Ethan, he died protecting them against a group of men who believed they should be destroyed. Maybe that should mean something too,” Gideon said, softly.

Ethan had a difference of opinion on terminology. “Traitors murdered Dad.”

Elijah cleared his throat. “Are we not traitors if we go against The Triad that Jim Murphy, The Guardian, chose?”

Ethan popped his neck, looking from Elijah to Gideon. “We agree that there are definite reason to doubt the Winchesters and Reaves?”

“I have no arguments about the valid questions surrounding them,” Elijah replied. “I just have issue with plotting against them like they were the enemy. Do we even know exactly what Griffin expects us to do with this information?”

“He expects us to get to those weapons and keep them from falling into the wrong hands.”

“By wrong do you mean the Winchesters and Reaves?” Elijah asked, frowning at Gideon. “You’re being obtuse.”

“Obtuse?” Gideon groaned. “I’m not one of your colleagues, Eli.”

Ethan slapped his brother on the back of the head. “Yeah, Eli. Take off the tweed blazer and put on your hunting jacket.”

Elijah folded his arms over his chest. “Do you know what Griffin wants us to do?”

"I’m to stop Ian from completing his mission at all costs. At least that’s what Silas told me. Ian has gone rogue.” Ethan yawned widely, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ve seen it happen to good cops. Too long working with the perps. They start to identify and sympathize with them.”

“Recent reports put him in the company of a very attractive red head.” Elijah sighed. “A red head with lovely black eyes.”

“Your buddy Carolyn tell you that?”

Ethan grinned as Elijah shifted in his seat, tugging at his shirt collar. “Leave Carolyn out of this.”

“Guys, we still aren’t any closer to getting a game plan together than we were an hour ago," Gideon stated. "From what we know they are only loyal to each other."

Ethan picked up one of the files and tapped it on the table. “I have a feeling all the research and game plans will go right out the window once it starts going down. It’s like undercover work- a lot of it is flying by the seat of your pants and hoping for the best.”

“Says the man who’s been shot twice in the line of duty.” Gideon snorted.

“One of those was a graze. Didn’t count.” Ethan looked at his brother. “Will your abilities give us any kind of advantage?”

Elijah shook his head. “Not from what Griffin said.”

Ethan recognized the look on his brother’s face. Griffin was no-nonsense when it came to his brother’s capabilities. He openly expressed his displeasure for Elijah's talent of being a lie detector. “What did he say?”

“That Caleb Reaves is one of the most skilled psychics he has encountered. Possibly stronger than him. He is quite certain Sam has just as much potential.” Elijah smiled, but Ethan knew it was forced. “I’m not exactly in their league.”

“Do we have anything to protect us? What about that box thing Griffin created?”

Elijah shook his head. “Not exactly stealthy.”

“What happened to trust?” Ethan mocked.

Gideon glared at him. “I trust the people I know. I don’t know these men.”

“We’ll talk with Griffin before we go to Wyoming,” Elijah said. “Now what about our game plan?”

“How about I stick close to Reaves, Gideon with Dean, and you can handle Sam,” Ethan suggested.

“By handle him do you…”

Ethan growled, pointed a finger at Elijah. “Stop. I mean you’ll be his shadow. Guard him like he’s your man when we play three on three.”

“We suck at three on three,” Gideon stated. “We came in almost last in the city basketball league this past season.”

Ethan huffed. “You two suck. I had to bring the game all by myself.”

“This will require we work together, Ethan. No ball-hogging and luck shots.”

“Ball hogging? Luck shot?”

“I think Eli is just pointing out the importance of you sharing your insight with us before acting on it.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at Gideon. “You’re taking his side?”

“There are no sides.”

“Coming from you that’s hilarious, G.”

“I meant between us.”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah. I forgot. We’re a circle.” He waved a hand in the air. “Never-ending, no beginning and no end.”

“Three circles interlocking, actually,” Elijah said.

Ethan shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“The symbol for The Brotherhood-The Triad.” Elijah used his finger to draw invisible rings in the air.

“We’re not The Triad.” Ethan knew the jobs were demanding, more than he was possibly willing to give.

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be,” Elijah said.

Ethan nodded. He knew his brother had his own reasons for doubting their proposed positions.

Gideon lifted his beer in a toast. “But maybe we are.”

Ethan knew Gideon just wanted to do the right thing. But he also knew the problem with that was the right thing often changed depending on the person’s point of view


“You really look like you could use this, Doctor.”

Mackland Ames glanced at the smiling blonde in front of him, forcing a smile. “Is that your professional opinion?” He had only arrived at Boone Adams’ bar , his rushed trip along with the impending meeting taking their toll. The doctor only hoped he didn’t appear as apprehensive as he felt.

“Yes.” Kathleen Adam’s blue eyes twinkled. “I have almost twenty years experience behind this bar.” She rubbed her hand affectionately over the worn oak surface between them. “I can tell when a man needs a drink.”

“And how did you know I prefer scotch?” Mackland lifted the tumbler, jostling the dark amber liquid.

She laughed. “Secrets of the trade. You’re not exactly a beer man, Mac, and when on hunting territory I doubt you let that wine connoisseur emerge.” She nodded to the wall behind her “But I have some French and California ports that would rock your taste buds if you come back to visit when it isn’t official business.”

Mackland nodded. “I have no doubt that your collection would impress me.” He wasn’t teasing. Kathleen was not the simple bar maid that some took her for. She was well read, insightful and serious about the contributions her husband still made to The Brotherhood. Mackland knew she was the driving force behind sending Riley to Tufts. “Riley told me that you visit the Valley during the grape harvesting season on occasion. Have you thought of vacationing in Tuscany? You would be amazed at the…”

“You’ve talked to Riley?”

Mackland stifled his groan. “Yes, you remember I introduced him to my secretary’s son. He goes to Boston University. We all had brunch at the Four Seasons.” It wasn’t a lie, but Mackland still felt a sharp pang of guilt.

“Of course.” Her smile returned. “Bradley. Riley’s mentioned him. Boone and I appreciate it. Riley can have a hard time making friends sometimes. My baby gets so wrapped up in his studies and hobbies…”

“The kid would have his nose in a book twenty-four seven if you let him.” Boone Adams suddenly appeared by his wife. He topped off Mackland’s drink. “It’s gotten worse with those Raspberry devices, lap tops, and other high-tech gadgets of his.”

“It’s Blackberry, dear.” Kathleen wrapped an arm around Boone and chuckled. “And you’re just angry you had to learn to turn on a computer.”

Mackland didn’t miss the way Boone’s face changed when he looked at Kathleen. He understood how the man could give up his ring. “I had to learn to type to communicate with my only son.” Boone leaned closer to Ames as if about to tell him a shameful secret. “I have a My Space page and a cell phone. What the hell is the world coming to, Mac?”

“I’ve wondered that myself, Boone.”

Kathleen’s attention was drawn away by a customer. Boone had done as Mackland asked and left the bar open to avoid drawing any unwanted attention to the gathering about to take place. Mackland wanted everything to look like business as usual. Kathleen gave Mackland’s hand a quick pat. “Let me know if I can get you anything else, Doc.”

Mackland looked up at the clock and wondered what was keeping the boys. “I reckon you’re pretty pissed at them.”

“No.” He met Boone’s blue gaze. “I just hope they haven’t run into any unexpected trouble.” Mackland had talked to Joshua when he arrived earlier. He assured him the boys were on schedule, leaving Tufts when he did.

“I wasn’t talking about your boys.”

Mackland frowned, pulled from his thoughts. “Pardon?”

“I was referring to old Jim Murphy and that sonofabitch Winchester. They picked a hell of a time to run out on you, Mac.”

Mackland’s chest clenched. It surprised him how the pain could resurface white hot and so fresh, even after months had passed. “That they did.” He took a long drink of his scotch, glanced towards the back of the room where Griffin and Silas sat. Joshua was chatting congenially with them. “The Guardian should be dealing with this.”

“Jim would have dealt with it alright.” Boone leaned on the bar. “Some thought that old man was soft, but he was as sharp as a polished steel blade. There was a reason Griffin kept his mouth shut and stayed in the shadows until now.”

“I miss his ability to put any situation into perspective.”

“He could turn a phrase.” Boone turned around, pulled a couple of shot glasses from the glass wall behind him. He turned them up on the bar, retrieving a bottle of tequila from beneath the countertop. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve done a damn fine job of keeping things together.” He filled one of the shots and shoved it towards Ames. “And I’m not the only one. You have more friends than enemies.”

Mackland swallowed thickly, watched him pour the alcohol into the other glass. Lately he’d felt so isolated and outnumbered. “I hope you’re right.”

“I might be retired, but I see and hear more here behind this bar than I ever did out in the field. This territory is neutral, Mackland, but I have always and will always be loyal to Pastor Jim. Buzz feels the same way.”

Mackland appreciated the sentiment. Yet, it made him feel worse about hiding Riley’s involvement. Mackland lifted his drink in toast. “To Jim Murphy.”

Boone smiled and tossed back the shot. “To the pastor.”

“You boys already started drinking without me?” Bobby Singer slid onto the stool beside Mackland, placing a gun in a leather holster on the wooden surface. “Pour me a couple of those why don’t you, Boone? Put it on Mac’s tab.”

“What is that for?” Mackland eyed the menacing weapon in front of Bobby. “As I explained to you on the phone before, this is not Dodge City, Bobby. I wanted you here for representation, not muscle.”

Bobby met Boone’s gaze, shaking his head. “See what I mean?” He faced Mackland again. “You think Silas is here for ‘representation’? I’m not leaving the boys unprotected.”

“And you think I would? I’m not an idiot.”

Bobby chose to down his first shot instead of commenting. Mackland sighed in exasperation. Boone was right. He was definitely pissed at Jim and John.

“You better not shoot up my damn bar, Singer. Last time you and Winchester cost me a week’s worth of business.”

Singer smirked. “Where's Kathleen? She understands hospitality."

Boone snatched the bottle of tequila away as Bobby reached for it. “The good stuff is for paying customers.”

Bobby raised his voice so Adams would here. “And she’s a far sight prettier than her old man deserves.”

“Do you purposively work to alienate those around you, or is it a natural talent?”

“You’re damn pissy tonight. All this Brotherhood business been keeping you from enjoying some of Esme’s ‘herbal tea’?”

Mackland’s gaze narrowed as Bobby grinned. He used his fingers to make quotation mark signs in the air as he lasciviously said the words ‘herbal tea’. He took a deep breath, focusing his anger. The small glass in front of Bobby cracked, then shattered quite spectacularly. Singer jerked back as Boone sent a heated glare his way.

“Goddamnit, Singer. That’s going on your bill.”

Bobby held up his hands in surrender. “It wasn’t me.”

“Prove it.” Mackland said, smugly. He felt only a little childish as Bobby turned his surprised gaze on him.

“Since when do you flash your abilities around in public?”

“Since the game has changed.” Mackland pointed a finger at the grizzled hunter. “I may not be in the field as much as you or wear my side arms hung low and tied down like some spaghetti western cowboy, but you should not forget that I am quite capable of defending myself and my charges. I am The Scholar.”

“Easy, Doc.” Bobby leaned back with a huge grin. “I never meant for you to get your back up, to suggest you couldn’t tackle this on your own. I just thought my talents were needed to balance out your finesse.”

Mackland watched his friend’s face lose some of its amusement as he mumbled, “And with The Knight being gone…”

Ames sighed. He was not the only one missing Jim and John. “I know. I’m glad you’re here. John would appreciate you filling his spot.” Bobby and Missouri were his only sounding boards. He knew he could count on them. “I wouldn’t want to do this without you.”

Bobby laid his hand over the leather holster. “But if you think I’m going to sit back and watch while Griffin or one of his guns put the boys through the mill…”

Mackland tuned Singer out as the door suddenly opened, and just like in one of the Westerns he had mentioned earlier all conversation quieted. The doctor almost expected to hear the tune from the Good, Bad, and The Ugly echo from the jukebox as every eye went to the three newcomers swaggering into the bar.


“You guys ever get that feeling you’re being watched?” Dean asked with a glance to his brother and Caleb as they entered The Boonedocks Bar & Grill.

Reaves shot him a half-assed grin. “I’m used to drawing attention when I walk into a room. It’s a curse.”

Dean rolled his eyes. The cocky reply was welcome in comparison to Caleb’s brooding silence of the last leg of their car ride. “But are there usually deadly weapons involved, Damien?”

“It depends if you count a great ass and amazing rack as deadly weapons, Deuce.”

Dean smiled. “You know I do.”

“You two really are dogs- you know that?” Sam shook his head, but stayed close to their side as they continued to the bar where Mackland and Bobby sat.

“We can’t all be sappy and poetic, Runt.” Caleb cut his gaze to Dean. “Griffin’s here.”

Dean didn’t want to do an obvious scan of the place. He imagined Caleb’s psychic abilities had put the man on the radar. That was confirmed when his brother spoke up softly.

“I sensed him when we walked in the door. There’s another psychic here too.”

Caleb nodded grimly. “Keep your blocks up. Porter likes to come in the backdoor.”

“Not if you take away his lock-picking kit,” Dean muttered. He wasn’t about to have a repeat of the Cosby disaster. He had taken precautions to protect his brother and Caleb.

“What?” Sam asked.

Dean was glad they made it to Mackland and Bobby. “Hey, Mac. Fancy meeting you here.”

“You’re late,” Bobby growled. “I talked to you boys an hour ago. You were just a few minutes away.”

“The natives were hungry,” Dean said, watching Sam’s face twist in rebuke.

“Dean saw a billboard for the world’s best banana split.”

“What would a road trip be without some ice cream? But we’re here now. That’s all that matters, right?”

“You’re the last to arrive,” Mackland said.

Dean recognized the slight reprimand and tried to look contrite. “I thought it was fashionable in your circle to be late.” He didn’t want to do the job, or meet with Griffin and this other proposed Triad.

Caleb elbowed him. “Sorry, Dad. We’re ready to get started.”

“Who's Joshua talking to?” Sam asked.

Dean rubbed his side where Caleb’s elbow caught him. He recognized the back of Sawyer’s head. Joshua was talking to a tall, broad-shouldered black man and Silas. “That Griffin?”

“It is.”

“Josh seems awfully chummy,” Dean commented, elbowing Caleb.

“Griffin courted him, to make sure if his Triad came to power then Slick was on their side,” Bobby answered.

Dean frowned. “Griffin’s the scum of the earth.”

“To you, Son,” Mackland said, softly. “There are those who still regard him as a very powerful and respectable man.”

“You boys are in the fish bowl now,” Bobby interjected. “Live up to Jim's example."

“I know him.” Sam said, suddenly. Dean pulled his gaze away from the trio.

“Sam, you were only five when that bastard took us. I barely recognize him and...”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “He was here at The Boondocks last Christmas.” He looked at Caleb. “When you were poisoned by that cult. He talked to me.”

“That explains a lot about that fun trip,” Caleb replied. “We knew someone fed Joshua and Boone bogus information. How much you want to bet it was Porter?”

“There is no doubt the man is dangerous and will go to any lengths to get what he wants.”

As Mackland spoke, Griffin lifted his head and smiled in their direction. Dean resisted the urge to send him a universal greeting with his middle finger or better yet pull his gun and waste the smug bastard. “All the more reason we get this show on the road.”

“What about our replacements?”

Mackland frowned at his son. “They are not your replacements. View them as you would any other hunters.”

“Who want us out of the way so they can take our jobs.”

“Junior,” Bobby warned.

“All right. I can play nice with the second-stringers.” Caleb crossed his arms.

“What about their father?” Sam asked.

“Jared?” Mackland ran a hand through his hair. “What about him, Samuel?”

Dean understood. “What if they ask us about him? We were the last people to see him alive. I’d be damned curious if I were them.”

Mackland slid a finger over his brow. “Jim left Griffin’s reputation intact to protect Ethan and Elijah. I don’t think we have a right to take that away. Not without a very good reason.”

“Griffin’s probably told his side of the story with all his usual flair. He’s good at sucking a person in.” Caleb glanced towards Porter’s booth. “They wouldn’t believe us even if we tried to explain what really happened.”

“I’d say the less that is said about Jared and Griffin the better,” Mackland stated. “Focus on the task at hand. Recovering the weapons and in case Griffin’s fears are correct, stop Ian.”

“How exactly are we supposed to find this legendary stockpile? And how do I fit into all this?” Dean had pondered his job as the future Guardian during their drive, having a ring with mysterious writing and a dream about The Lady of the Lake was circumstantial evidence. “What if I can’t open the door?”

Mackland met his gaze. “We’re going to discuss the how and where of finding the weapons with Griffin and the others, but as for your role, there are no exact answers.”

“What about Wilmington’s journal?” Caleb asked, glancing to Dean. “He was The Guardian. If he set this up, then surely he left some kind of clue for the next Guardian.”

“Griffin sent me the scans of both missing journals after I agreed to this meeting. The only mention Daniel Wilmington makes is that death will befall anyone unworthy.”

“That’s definitely got me jonesing to go.”

Reaves shook his head. “I’m not letting him do anything I don’t think is safe. If I don’t know for sure he’s ‘worthy’ then the hell with that.”

Dean appreciated the sentiment, but he wasn’t going to be coddled. “I guess I’ll just run on home then. Take up the quiet farming life Jim always wanted for me.”

“Smartass.”

“He’s right, Caleb.” Mackland met his son’s stubborn gaze. “Nothing about this journey is safe. Nothing about our lives is safe, especially now.”

“There are some things I can control. That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“The Knight’s job is to protect The Guardian, not to hinder his duty. He walks in his master’s shadow like a guard dog.”

Caleb turned to glare at the newcomer. Dean did the same, itching to tell Porter what he could do with his unsolicited advice. Mackland beat him to it.

“Griffin, I thought we agreed you would limit your contact to the future Triad.”

Porter gave them what Dean interpreted to be his most innocent and charming smile. “I shall respect your boundaries, Mackland. I was only going to give my regards, condolences for Johnathan’s passing.”

“Save your breath,” Dean growled.

“I hope this can be a hospitable working arrangement.” Griffin ignored the older Winchester and glanced at Sam. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing your progression, Samuel. Even as a child I could sense you had great and impressive things in store.”

“Did you realize that while you were torturing Dean or maybe when you were holding a gun preparing to murder me?” Caleb placed himself between Porter and Sam. “Because that’s quite the revelation for a sociopath to have.”

“Caleb.”

Mackland’s soft voice didn’t ease the adrenaline rushing through Dean’s veins. He recognized the glint that flashed through Porter’s dark eyes, a feeling of intense déjà vu washed over him. This wasn’t the time to push the envelope. “Let it go, Damien.”

“Yes.” Griffin turned to Dean. “I think we should all let the past go, Caleb. It would be in The Brotherhood’s best interest. Did Jim not tell you that revenge is not the way of The Triad.”

“He taught me justice was.”

“Back the hell off, Junior. “ Bobby stood up from his stool, roughly shoving Caleb out of Porter’s space. “You don’t want to go messing up Boone’s bar. Trust me. He takes payment out in your hide.”

“Wait for us in the back, Griffin. I believe you said Ethan, Elijah, and Gideon arrived earlier and settled themselves in the back.”

Porter inclined his head to Mackland. “Of course. I’ll have Kathleen bring us some refreshment.”

Once he was out of earshot, Bobby snorted. “I’m not drinking anything I don’t see Kathleen or Boone pour myself. Damn shifty bastard is liable to be carrying strychnine.”

“You’re going to have to control your temper.”

Dean waited for the explosion.

“What?” Caleb turned on his father. “You think I was out of line? After what that bastard did to us…what he’s caused to happen since then!”

There it was. Dean exchanged looks with his brother. Sam took a couple of steps back.

“I know exactly what he did, Son. But this is not the time to rehash the past. Griffin was correct in his taunts about this being Brotherhood business."

"And Bobby was also correct in his glass house metaphor…”

“I said a fish bowl,” Bobby corrected, receiving a heated glance from Mackland.

“What? They have totally different meanings.”

Mackland ran a finger over one brow, then the other. It was a sure sign he was at his edge. “Would you please go save our seats for us, Bobby?”

“Is that part of the whole representation thing? Saving your goddamn seats?"

“Yes. It is.”

Singer snarled. “I’m still taking my damn gun, Mr. Scholar, Sir.” He picked up the weapon from the bar and stalked off towards a set of doors.

Dean felt a little sorry for Mackland as he turned to regard them once more. “Now, Caleb…”

Caleb cut him off. “Don’t, Dad. I get it. No making waves. Be a good little soldier and do as I’m told. Funny how you criticized John’s philosophy all these years, but have no problem using it when it suits your needs.”

Dean gestured to Caleb as he bounded after Bobby. “He had a hard time with the information Riley and Bradley gave us.”

The doctor sighed. “Now you see why I felt it important you keep your secret?”

Sam stared at Mackland. “You don’t think that’s going to make things worse in the long run?”

“I don’t give a damn about the long run right now, Samuel!” Mackland snapped. “I gave a directive and I expect it to be followed until this job is completed.”

Dean felt his jaw clench as Sam’s face fell.

"Sorry. I'm going to help save those seats," Sam said in a flat voice.

Dean watched his brother walk away. “Directive same as an order, Mac? Because I agree with Caleb, it sounds damn familiar.”

Mackland looked beyond Dean to where Sam and Caleb had gone. “Wait until you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, young man.”

Dean licked his lips. “I thought I already did.”

Mackland exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I know that this Guardian issue is weighing on you, not to mention the repercussions of your deal and …”

It wasn't Dean's intention to heap more guilt onto Mac. “It’s okay, Mac. You’re doing the best you can.” He reached out and squeezed the doctor's shoulder.

“Why does absolution from you not exactly make me feel better, Son?”

Dean grinned. “Because I was always cutting Dad more slack than he deserved.”

Ames smiled. “Ah yes, that would be it.”

“But I was right, you know. Dad was doing the best job he could to keep us safe, to keep our family together. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“Yes, Dean. That is exactly what I’m doing.”

“Then Sammy and Caleb will come around. They always did.” Dean gestured with his neck that they should follow.

“Watch out for them.” Mackland placed an arm around Dean's shoulder.

He felt the weight; it was more than just congenial motion. Dean felt the responsibility of representing Jim, a united front, and providing protection. “You know I will.”

“We’ll handle all the rest when you boys are back and all is well.”

“You going to spring for another Vegas vacation?” Dean wished the conclusion to this hunt would lead to Vegas, but that vacation of ignorance could not be revisited.

“Even better, some down time at the farm.”

Dean nodded. “It’s a deal.”


The room seemed painfully overcrowded to Sam, a familiar sensation. At six foot five inches, walking into a large area and not drawing attention was difficult. He felt evermore the freak now, on display for reasons beyond being tall. He was one-third of an ‘evil’ Triad.

Griffin Porter and Silas Fox lurked inside the door. Bobby and Joshua in the opposite corner. Three men Sam didn’t recognize sat at long wooden table that took center stage in Boone’s office. He ignored the unnerving eyes on him. He blocked out all the emotions he could sense, and observed the rest of his surroundings.

There was an air hockey table shoved off to one side and a pool table that had seen better days on the other end. A small neatly arranged desk with a computer took up one corner, tall bookshelves abutted. There was also a black safe. Lighting was provided by several hanging Bud-light signs, a life-size glowing neon outline of a chopper covered one wall. But what instantly caught his attention was the seven-foot stuffed grizzly lounging in the corner like a beloved pet.

“Holy Grizzly Adams,” Dean said quietly. “What the hell?”

Sam smirked, purposively made his way towards the bear so Dean and Caleb would be forced to follow. “You want to pet it?” Sam whispered and watched his brother’s face contort in disgust.

“Boone couldn’t have just sprung for some fake bear rug?”

Caleb bumped Dean’s shoulder. “Bet you ten to one that’s the bear Boone took out.”

Sam shared a grin with Caleb when Dean kept his distance from the glassy-eyed beast, looking up at it with a mixture of awe and dread. “With a fucking piece of wire? No way, Damien. That thing is huge.”

Sam wasn’t sure where his brother’s odd fear of bears came from, considering Dean wasn’t afraid of much else. It had been a point of amusement over the years. Mackland’s deep voice brought his attention back to the center of the room. The doctor was standing in front of the table, greeting the three strangers who stood to address him.

“Dr. Ames.”

The taller blond was the first to shake Mackland’s hand. He was about Dean’s height, built similarly. His hair was almost military-style short. He was clean-shaven, wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans.

“It’s good to see you again, Gideon. I hope your parents are well.”

“They are. My mom says you and Esme should come for dinner again soon.”

The Texas drawl was prominent, but the words had Sam refocusing on the man. He felt the surge of energy from Caleb, their psychic connection snapping like an elastic band. The older hunter was not pleased with yet another revelation. Mac was having dinner with Gideon's family.

“Perhaps when all this is over,” Mackland replied, moving his gaze to the tall, dark-haired man beside Gideon.

“Ethan.”

“It’s been a long time, Mac.”

Ethan was the vice detective. Sam noticed the accent was the same as Gideon’s, but the similarity ended there. Ethan engaged Mackland in an informal, relaxed manner. His light brown hair was longer, fashionably unkempt. His looks and build were more rugged and rangier. Ethan was at least six feet tall. He was wearing a well-worn Dallas Cowboys shirt; torn jeans with a large silver belt bucklethat reminded Sam of the one Woody Harrelson wore in the movie Cowboy Way. His angular face was shadowed by a slight beard. Sam imagined he blended in quite well with the criminals.

“Too long,” Mackland replied. “I trust you’ve been keeping your brother out of trouble.”

Sam was surprised when Elijah moved around the table, not only clasped Mackland’s hand, but pulled the doctor into a hard, quick embrace. “You know that’s the other way around, Doctor.” He laughed. “I have my hands full with him.”

Sam felt his own twinge of jealousy. He cut his gaze to Dean. “Just how well does Mackland know these men?” he muttered under his breath.

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“How’s the dissertation coming?” Mackland asked. Sam zeroed in on Elijah once more. Joshua had told them he was a professor at Baylor.

“It’s coming. Slowly.” Elijah smiled warmly. “I appreciate you letting Carolyn help me with some of the research. She’s been a great asset.”

“From what I hear, it’s fascinating work.”

Sam studied the academic. No one would have guessed he was Ethan’s twin without close scrutiny. The Mathews brothers shared the same dark blue eyes, but Elijah’s hair was much shorter, lying against his head in waves that seemed shades darker than his brother’s. He looked years younger. His pants were a light khaki, the long sleeved white pullover loose. Elijah looked like a college student instead of a teacher. Sam was pretty sure he was going to hate him.

Mackland met Sam's gaze, giving a shadow of his normal smile. “Now’s the time for introductions, I suppose.”

Sam wasn’t surprised when neither Caleb nor Dean moved. The whole situation was odd. Sam felt like he was in a very small fishbowl with nowhere to go but straight ahead. Bobby cleared his throat, prompting Sam to begin the introductions.

“Hi. I’m Sam.”

Elijah extended his hand. “Eli Mathews. This is my brother Ethan and Gideon Lane.”

“Yeah. It’s nice to put names with faces.” Sam shook his hand, glancing over his shoulder to Caleb and Dean. He raised his eyebrow, tilted his head, and willed them to stop being stubborn.

Caleb stepped forward and nodded. “Caleb Reaves, but I’m pretty sure you know me as Resident Evil.”

Ethan laughed, but Elijah seemed unsure of how to respond. “He thinks he’s funny,” Sam said, glaring at Caleb for making an already uncomfortable situation, worse.

“Yes. Perhaps it’s a Knight thing.” Gideon spoke with a pointed look at Ethan.

“Obviously you never met my dad,” Sam smiled.

“I worked with him a time or two,” Gideon replied flatly. “Mostly he hunted with Ethan.”

“Really,” Caleb said, flashing his father a look.

Mackland changed the subject, gesturing to Dean. “And this is Dean Winchester.”

“Did you work with Jim?” Dean didn’t move from his spot. He looked at Gideon. “Stay at the farm?”

Lane nodded. “I studied with Pastor Jim. We’ve all spent time at his farm.”

Dean shook his head, glanced to Sam and Caleb. “Ain’t that a kick in the pants?”

Sam swallowed, his own feelings mixed about the new information. “Maybe we should discuss the current hunt?”

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Mackland silently applauded Sam’s attempt to propel the conversation forward. There would be times to explain later. He was about to agree with the boy’s suggestion when he caught movement from Griffin out of the corner of his eye.

“Spoken like a natural Scholar.” Griffin claimed the chair at the head of the table, smiling at Sam. “Diplomacy, tactful diversion and persuasion are important skills for that position.”

“Definite reasons Jim never considered Porter for the job,” Bobby said to Joshua, but made sure his voice traveled throughout the room.

“Bobby…” Mackland started, only to be interrupted by Porter.

“Knights on the other hand can be as uncouth and ill-refined as swine as long as they are quick with a sword and handy with a gun. Obvious points James considered before offering Bobby the job. ”

“A Knight is honorable, self-sacrificing, and follows a code no one like you could ever understand. They take the battle to the frontlines, protecting diplomats’ asses as they tactfully divert and persuade with one another. ”

Mackland stared at Dean. He felt a swelling of pride as the boy spoke.

“I won’t be a part of this, Porter, if you are going to insult my father and my friend. And if I’m not mistaken, you need me.”

Griffin hesitated. “I apologize if you took my attempts at humor as slanderous, Dean. In reality, I have a great respect for all the positions in The Triad. I take them quite seriously, believe me.”

Dean didn’t reply. Mackland quickly took the chance to intervene. “Griffin, I think it’s time you tell us the location of this job. We need to all be on the same page if this is going to be a successful mission.”

“Does everyone need to be present?” Griffin inclined his head towards Bobby.

“If Silas stays, I stay.” Bobby patted the gun he now had strapped to his side. “I’m representing.”

“Suit yourself.” Griffin lifted a black briefcase from the floor, placed it in front of him. “But I prefer if your representation did not include feedback.”

“I work for Mackland, so your preferences mean squat.”

“Bobby, please.” Mackland claimed his seat at the other end of the table. Dean, took the chair closest to Griffin, across from Gideon. Caleb took the one beside Dean, facing Ethan. Sam was on Mackland’s right and Elijah on his left. Joshua, Bobby and Silas remained standing. “Go ahead, Griffin.”

“Of course.” Griffin began to remove things from his portfolio. He placed three worn leather journals on the table and looked up to speak.

Before he could Dean removed something from his pocket, setting it beside Griffin’s pile with an enigmatic smile.

“You want to record our meeting?” Griffin asked. “I’m sure someone can take notes for you, if that’s necessary.”

“Oh, it’s not a recorder. It’s an iPod.” Dean tapped his head. “Nothing wrong with my memory.”

“Hey. That’s my iPod,” Sam grumbled. “I lost it weeks ago.”

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean cut his eyes to his brother. “I borrowed it for my homemade psychic scrambler.” His smile widened. “Cool, huh?”

“That why I got a headache at the restaurant when you asked me to read that hot chick?” Caleb inquired.

“Hey.” Dean shrugged. “I had to give it a test run.”

“Nice.”

“I beg your pardon?” Griffin glared at the oldest Winchester.

“You know. It picks up on any spikes of psychic energy, then relays a counter feedback almost like an electrical shock. In laymen terms, it works on a similar principal as a big bug zapper,” Dean explained. “You called it an ‘Elemental Trap.’ Dean flicked his gaze to Silas. “Fox and your old buddy Ian were so kind to leave me your big, bulky, prototype in Cosby. I used it as a starting point.” He held up the iPod. “You had some flaws in your original design. But this baby’s compact and just as powerful, not to mention black and shiny. Trap any Elemental in a mile radius, and give psychics one bitch of a headache, maybe even fry some brain cells if they’re really wide open.” Dean winked at Caleb. “I had it on wimp mode when I used it on you.”

“Your concern is touching, Deuce.”

“Why would you need that?” Gideon demanded.

“To even out the playing field.” Dean met the blond’s gaze.

“Your brother and Reaves are psychics.”

“Exactly. But don’t worry; I’ve made sure they’re grounded.” Dean sat the iPod down again. “Not to seem like I don’t trust you people…but wait a minute, I don’t trust you people.”

“Dean…” Mackland started, but Griffin held up a hand.

“That’s quite clever, Dean. James always said you were very smart. And you’re right. You have no reason to trust us.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with, Griffin.”

“Griffin?” Ethan asked.

Porter smiled at Mathews. “It’s all right. There’s no need for any of us to be using our abilities when it’s much easier just to come out and ask. We’re among colleagues, after all. We have a common enemy, and that enemy is not in this room.”

“Still. Dolly stays put.” Dean gave his invention an affectionate pat. “Just to make sure.”

Griffin smiled as he slipped on his glasses. “If it makes you feel more secure, by all means.”

Dean cut his eyes to Caleb, lowering his voice. “Nothing shy of a bazooka and a hand grenade could make me feel secure in this room.”

“I hear that.”

Mackland gave them a hard stare. “From here on out, only Griffin and I speak. Understood?”

Dean nodded. Caleb made a locking motion with his hand, pretending to throw away the key. Mackland realized it was as good as he was going to get. “Okay.” He glanced to Porter. “You were saying?”

“Sinks Canyon State Park in Wyoming.”

“A state park? The Triad hid a stock load of deadly weapons in a state park?” Bobby asked.

Mackland glared at Bobby, he was included in the latest directive.

“In the eighteen hundreds it was nothing but vast wilderness,” Griffin continued. “Even today Wyoming is the least populated state in our country.”

“Sinks Canyon is in Lander, not far from the smoke jumper's camp. I know that area well,” Gideon said.

Griffin nodded. “I hoped you would.”

“How convenient,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“The Sinks isn’t your typical state park,” Griffin continued. “There’s a mystery surrounding it and that’s probably the reason Daniel Wilmington’s Triad chose it.”

“What sort of mystery?”

“Sinks Canyon is named so for the Popo Agie, a rushing mountain river that flows out of the Wind River Mountains and through the canyon. Halfway down the canyon the river abruptly turns into a large limestone cavern and the crashing water ‘sinks’ into fissures and cracks. The river is underground for almost a half a mile or more before emerging into a large calm pool called The Rise.”

“That’s the big mystery?” Bobby asked.

Griffin looked around the table. “Where the water goes while it is underground is unknown. Geologists have only recently proven the same water flowing into the Sinks flows out at The Rise, but the water takes hours to reappear at The Rise.”

“Geologists haven’t studied it?” Mackland asked.

“They’ve speculated that while underground the water circulates through a maze of tunnels and caverns until it returns. But the small size of the fissures and the debris from the river make exploration impossible. What’s more interesting is that they have found that there is a greater amount of water at the end.”

“That suggests there is another underground water source besides the river.”

Griffin nodded, a smile forming. “An underground spring or perhaps a lake.” He picked up one of the journals. “Daniel Wilmington mentioned he would return the weapons to their source.”

“You’re referring to the Lady of the Lake myth concerning Arthur and Merlin?”

“Yes.” Griffin raised a hand. “I’m not implying that this is Merlin’s fountain, only that it would have suited Wilmington’s purposes.”

“How would he have known of the lake’s existence? You said that geologists just recently figured it out themselves.”

“Tanner and Wilmington had ties to the Crow tribe. From what I understand there are many tales of The Sinks in Native American tribes that lived in that area.”

“That still doesn’t explain how we are going to find a way into the Sinks.”

“We don’t have to.” Griffin unfolded a map. “We scanned the inside covers of all three journals. When put together they form the most interesting pattern.”

Mackland frowned. “It looks like the symbol for The Triad.” Three interlocking circles.

“Not if you look closer.” Griffin slid the document the length of the table.

Mackland picked it up and shook his head. “It’s an intricate topographical map.”

“Does X mark the spot, Captain Jack?”

Mackland supposed he should be satisfied the young hunter held his tongue as long as he did. He gazed over the map at Dean. For once Mackland recognized the pop culture reference. Pirates of the Caribbean was one of his favorite movies. “Actually, young Will, it does.”