The Guard Changed at Dawn
Chapter One
Dean pulled slowly into the driveway of his Kentucky home, dimmed the headlights and coasted to a stop near the front porch. It had been a long, tiring hunt, and it was close to five in the morning. He'd dropped Caleb off at his house on the way, and now all he wanted was a hot shower, a soft bed and at least three hours sleep before work. Maybe he'd let Sal open the shop today. But then, Sal had the second shop to open, so that wouldn't work. He could get Mark - his current manager in charge - to open up, but that would require getting him the key, and that was too much to think of right now.
The front door swung open and a soft, feminine figure stood in the doorway.
Through their time together, through the unpredictable hunting hours, Juliet was usually waiting for him when he arrived home. She either didn't sleep or slept lightly until he was back safe. Over the years he'd come to count on her standing there in the doorway, smiling and waiting for him to come inside. Smiling, Dean pushed open the door of the car and climbed out.
"I was wondering whether you were going to sit out here all night," Juliet said, her voice carrying lightly in the early morning.
Dean pulled his duffle from the back seat of the Impala. "I was just thinking."
"About…?"
Dean dropped his duffle on the front porch and pulled Juliet into his arms. Giving her a thorough kiss, he leaned back and said, "About turning over the running of the shop to Mark."
Juliet snorted in an unladylike manner. She backed into the house, pulling Dean in with her. "As if that's likely. Though you should have him open this morning so you can have more than a couple hours sleep. You look like death warmed over."
Dean looked affronted. "I never look like death warmed over. That's Caleb."
Juliet laughed. "And where is Sir Galahad?"
"At home, probably already in bed." Dean dropped his duffle on the kitchen floor and plopped into a chair. He snatched at the cup of coffee Juliet had placed nearby. He took a long gulp before leaning back, his eyes closed.
Juliet had always been amazed at Dean's ability to gulp hot coffee without blowing or sipping, and the years hadn't dimmed her intrigue. She found it fascinating and endearing. Running a hand through his hair, she smiled as he leaned into her touch. "If you send Mark a text, I'll take him the key before heading into the clinic."
One eye opened as Dean glanced up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'll even threaten him with dire pain if he doesn't keep the troops in line."
Dean laughed and climbed slowly to his feet. "My hero."
Juliet gave him a push toward the downstairs bedroom and watched as he slowly made his way there, stretching gingerly as he went.
A few years ago they'd bitten the bullet and enlarged the bathroom attached to the downstairs bedroom. The bigger space allowed them to install a combination shower and steam room for post-hunt soreness. Juliet would be happy when Dean let the hunting go. Of course, that would mean JT stepping up to the plate, and she'd never be ready for that.
With a soft sigh she turned back to the kitchen and started making breakfast.
Dean leaned into the shower and turned on the water, waiting a moment for it to warm. Slowly he peeled off his clothes, letting them lay where they fell. He tested the water again, then stepped under the soothing spray. The sluicing water over his body was wonderful after the grime and mud of the hunt. Once his body was rid of the dirt, blood and grime, and the mud was rinsed from his hair, he lowered himself onto the shower seat, groaning softly.
Years before when Juliet had suggested renovating the downstairs bathroom to add a steam shower, he'd been all over that! Steam showers were a weakness of his, and Juliet knew that. But when she'd brought up adding a shower stool, he'd said no way. There would never be a time when he'd need to sit in the shower, he declared. Juliet wheedled the seat by saying she may need it to shave her legs. Dean thought that was a whopper, as she rarely if ever used the lower bedroom. But he'd reluctantly agreed, inwardly vowing to never use it. Dean snorted to himself. He'd been forty-eight then. Now at sixty-one, he loved the shower seat.
He turned up the heat and sighed as the water pounded the tension from his shoulders, arms and back. This hunt had been a tough one, more strenuous than usual. It had been years since he'd taken on a Wendigo, and the memory of the difficulty in tracking and killing such a creature had faded with time. He yawned. But they'd taken care of the bastard, him and Caleb and two hunters in training; Lucas Roberts and Mason Thom. Both of their lives had been touched by evil. Lucas Roberts' girlfriend had been turned into a werewolf who had almost killed him, and Mason Thom's aunt had played once too often with magic spells and unintentionally called forth a very bad spirit, one who had killed her husband, best friend and put her in a wheelchair for life.
Mason, as freaked and scared as he was, had attempted to take on the spirit on his own. Luckily, Eric Hobson, a seasoned hunter Dean had met more than ten years prior and brought into the Brotherhood, had been nearby and came to the rescue just in time to save Mason's life. After the hunt Hobson took Mason aside and explained about the supernatural, ghosts, and other beings. Mason was shell-shocked but determined to help, saying he didn't want anything like this to happen to anyone else's family. Hobson brought the young man to Dean.
Dean hadn't pulled any punches. He more thoroughly explained details about the hunting life, its rigor and toughness. He also recommended a psychiatrist friend of Jody's to help Mason's aunt through the trauma and guilt of her actions. When Mason declared he wanted to hunt, Dean insisted the young man take an entire year of thought and counseling before he made such a life-altering decision. During that year, Mason could research whatever he wanted, but he wasn't to go into the field. If he did, Dean declared, he wouldn't bring him into Caleb's established Brotherhood training program, and he definitely wouldn't be getting a ring. Once Mason accepted those conditions, Dean set up a day and time to meet with him again in one year.
One year later to the minute Mason was on his doorstep saying he wanted to be a hunter.
Dean stretched again, and leaned out of the pounding spray and against shower wall. He was definitely tired. This hunt hadn't been the only tough business of late.
He, Sam, Caleb and Joshua were debating and wrestling with the decision of when to pass on the leadership of the Brotherhood to the next generation. Long hours had been spent discussing the Brotherhood, the candidates, how the Brotherhood would hold up under the change, whether the proposed Triad was old enough to take on their duties. Of course the proposed Triad were adults, but in Dean's eyes his children would never be old enough. But JT would turn twenty-six in a few months. Max was twenty-eight, Ryker twenty-seven, and Jimmy's twenty-third birthday wouldn't be long after JT's twenty-sixth. Little Jimmy, twenty-three. When had they all grown up on them?
With a sigh, he pushed himself up and turned off the water. Quickly he wrapped a towel around his shivering body. In the bedroom he pulled on an old pair of sweats, a clean tee shirt and a soft pair of clean socks from the well-stocked dresser. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted into the room and he followed his nose into the kitchen.
A plate sat covered on the table. He heard Juliet moving around upstairs and knew she was getting ready for work. With a yawn he sat down, peeled away the cling plastic cover and bit into warm eggs. "Hmmmm," he hummed softly.
Footsteps on the stairs alerted him to Juliet's presence. She picked up a plate from the stove top and sat down opposite him. After taking a bite of eggs, she said, "The Holder's mare may foal soon. I'll let you know if I'm in for an all nighter."
Dean nodded. "Isn't this her fifth?"
"Fourth. I don't know if she's got many more pregnancies in her. This one's been tough on her body. I've warned the Holders she may be done foaling."
Dean glanced up. "What did they say?"
Juliet grimaced. "They said they'd see." She shook her head. "Give people a pedigree horse and they turn into money-grubbers."
"Maybe one of the others will take the pressure off mom."
"None of her off spring have had the same success on the race track, so the Holders just keep trying to breed a new winner." Finishing up her last piece of fruit, Juliet stood and put the plate in the sink. Moving around the table, she planted a kiss on the top of Dean's head and said, "I'm heading out. Want to meet up for lunch?"
"Yeah." Dean fished in his pocket and pulled out the key to the garage, handing it off. "I'll get a couple hours sleep and head over after I've checked in with Mark."
"See you then."
Just then the sound of a car was heard from the front yard. Smiling, Juliet grabbed her purse and vet bag. "Sounds like Sam. Sleep may have to wait."
Dean didn't bother to ask how Juliet knew the mystery car in the front yard was Sam. Too many years, too many hunts, and too much experience told them both who it was.
Sam passed Juliet as he came through the entrance. "Have a great day," he called as he shut the door.
Dean stood and put his plate in the sink. "You want some breakfast?"
Sam shook his head, but reached into the cupboard for a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Had a granola bar on the way over."
Sam hadn't changed a whole lot over the years, though his hair was shorter than in his youth. Since he'd become a college professor, he'd opted for a more "dignified" hair cut. Dean asked why it mattered, but Sam had insisted the students would respect him more if he looked like a professional lawyer.
"But you are a professional lawyer," Dean argued.
"Perception matters," Sam had stated, and gotten his hair cut. Though the auburn locks were grayer now, his hair was still longer than Dean's. And though his face had leaned out slightly, it still retained more of its youthful smoothness than lines.
Dean's age showed more on his face than his hair and body. The creases around his eyes had lengthened, and the grooves that used to appear around his mouth when he laughed were now a permanent addition to his face. But his hair was still the same dirty blond as ever, and if there were a few gray hairs sprinkled here and there, they were hidden. Of course, when his facial hair was longer - as it was now after a long hunt - his beard was more littered with gray than ginger. But he liked that. It reminded him of his father's peppered beard, and he felt closer to him.
"A granola bar?" Dean snorted. He pushed Sam away from the cabinet, pulled some eggs from the fridge and started making his brother a veggie omelet.
Sam shook his head and sat at the table. Some things never changed. "How'd the hunt go?"
"Fine," Dean said as he dropped some chopped tomatoes and mushrooms into the pan. "Lucas did well. He was the bait; didn't panic at all."
"The youngest is always bait," Sam grumbled.
Dean grinned over his shoulder. "This time it was because this was Lucas' first serious hunt. All he's done are a few salt and burns and a couple poltergeists. This upped the ante for him. Mason drew all the protection symbols and worked with Caleb to track the cave."
"What did you do? Supervise?" Sam said with a smirk.
"Oh, yeah, just that." Dean snorted out a laugh before turning serious. "The worst part was when the Wendigo started talking in Lucas' girlfriend's voice. How it knows how to do that is something else. She wasn't there; it had never heard her. But somehow it comes out with this reasonable copy."
Sam winced in sympathy. "Wendigo's are psychic. Maybe it picked up the cadence of the girlfriend's voice from Lucas' memories."
Dean shook his head. "It's just creepy and shouldn't have happened."
Sam knew Dean was feeling responsible for Lucas' pain. As he had learned through the years, telling Dean it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't to blame or he wasn't responsible, had never worked. So he said the only thing he could; "He'll face worse if he chooses to hunt. Now it's about learning and deciding if this road is one he wants to go down. We'll be there for him, whatever he decides."
"Yeah," Dean said thoughtfully, as he put down a plate holding a perfect omelet in front of his brother. "Maybe we should start arming hunters with snowflake obsidian when tackling Wendigos; prevent psychic poaching."
"That's a good idea." Sam cut into his omelet. "Um, good." He quickly finished off his food as Dean enjoyed his coffee. "When did you get in? You get any sleep yet?"
"Got in about five. I'll get a few hours before meeting Juliet for lunch."
"You're not going into the shop?"
"Jules took Mark the keys, but I'll make an appearance before I meet Juliet. You off today?"
Sam rose and put his plate along with the other dishes in the dishwasher. "Yeah, took a paid day off. Jimmy wants to look into getting his MBA. I said I'd check out some colleges with him today so I'm heading into New York."
"You're touring colleges?" Dean asked anxiously. He wanted to go on that trip.
"No. We're just going over the brochures and sorting his top picks. Then I'll check my contacts and we'll set up dates to go look at the campuses. You and Juliet better get ready to take a couple days off."
Dean gave a huge yawn. Standing, he said, "I'm gonna get some sleep. You staying?"
"Yeah. I want to check out a couple of the past journals in the Tomb before my flight leaves."
"Sounds good." Dean gave Sam's back a comforting rub before heading toward the downstairs bedroom. "Catch ya later."
Sam finished stacking the breakfast dishes and headed for the Tomb.
The awe the Tomb inspired still gave him a thrill, even after all these years.
Through the years he'd been part of the Triad, researching how Samuel Colt had made the gun that could kill anything had been one of the projects he and Joshua had undertaken. He knew Colt was the scholar of his Triad, knew he was psychic, but Sam had always wondered how that had help him make a magical gun. He and Joshua had examined the gun from every angle; they'd discussed theories, ways and means of how such a thing could occur. Joshua said he thought alchemy had to be involved in some way, and Sam suggested that Malachi Harris had taken an active hand in creating the thing. After all, the only one who'd been able to fix the gun when it was broken had been a demon. Both were sure Triad magic had been used, yet they hadn't found anything to substantiate their theories.
After more than an hour Sam thought he heard a car come into the driveway. Rising, he hurried to the front door in hopes of not waking Dean. His brother had looked pale and tired, and Sam wanted him to get some rest.
He reached the entrance in time to catch the knob as the door swung open and JT walked inside.
"Uncle Sam!" JT exclaimed with a smile. He stepped in to receive his customary back slapping hug.
Sam obliged while saying, "Shhhh. You dad just went to sleep. He and Caleb didn't get back until this morning."
"Wow," JT murmured as he followed his uncle into the kitchen.
Sam poured JT a mug of coffee and they sat at the table. "You heading out for a hunt?"
JT shook his head. "Naw. Just wanted to stop in and see dad."
"Everything all right?"
"Yeah. We haven't been able to connect the last couple weeks and I guess I needed some dad-time."
Sam nodded. "Been there." Dean had pretty much raised him. There were definitely moments throughout his life, especially difficult times, when he just needed Dean. While he would have liked more time in the Tomb, he wanted to let JT have time with his father. Rising, he said, "I'm heading to the airport. Gotta meet up with your brother in New York."
"Jimmy still worried about where to get his MBA?"
"We're going to narrow down his choices, set up some tours."
"Dad's going to want to go."
Sam grinned. "He made that clear."
JT walked Sam to the door. "Tell Jimmy I'll meet up with him at Sawyer's next week."
"Can't tell him yourself?"
"Could," JT shrugged, "But then I'd have to call him. That would mean an hour of talk about his college prospects. I'd rather not."
"You could text," Sam said with a laugh.
"That would just prompt him to call."
Sam laughed again. "I'll let him know. And tell your dad I'll be in touch."
"Will do." JT smiled as he watched Sam get into his car and drive down the driveway.
"He off so soon?"
JT turned and saw his dad leaning against the downstairs guest bedroom. His face was pale and dark circles ringed his eyes. Frowning, JT walked over and asked, "Why are you awake? You couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour or two."
"I heard you come in." Dean smiled. "Want some coffee?"
"I had some with Uncle Sam. Go back to bed. I'll be here when you wake up."
Dean frowned. "You all right?"
"I'm good. Just wanted to see you … hopefully better rested. I'm going to work in the Tomb some while you sleep."
"Got a hunt coming up that needs to research?"
"Not really."
Dean watched JT a moment then nodded. "Wake me in a couple hours. We'll have lunch."
"Sounds good."
Dean headed back into the bedroom and listened as JT walked down the hallway to the Tomb. Picking up his cell, he called Juliet and cancelled their lunch date.
"Just make sure he's all right," Juliet said.
Dean could hear the smile as well as the worry in her voice.
"I will. I'll fill you in tonight."
"Good. Now back to bed," Juliet ordered.
Dean huffed out a laugh as he disconnected.
Though he lay down and tried to get back to sleep, it just wasn't happening. Finally Dean pushed himself up and stretched, groaning. A glance at the clock told him he'd only been down about half an hour. "Crap," he muttered.
Heading into the bathroom, Dean wasn't thrilled with his reflection in the mirror. His face and lips were pale and his bloodshot eyes were ringed in dark bruises. He was long past the age when he could get no sleep and still appear awake and energetic. The conversations his Triad had been having about when to turn over the reins of the Brotherhood flittered through his mind. It was a difficult discussion. Their ages were the main factor in the discussions. JT, Max, Jimmy and Ryker were much closer in age; a mere six years between them. With his Triad, there was sixteen years of difference. Joshua was almost seventy-four. While he was the Triad's advisor and not in the field as often as he used to be, he was still at an age where spending time with Carolyn, his children and hopefully someday his grandchildren were a major factor in his time management.
Caleb would turn seventy this year. While Dean would never voice his concerns about Damian out loud, they were all slower than they used to be. Caleb was still vigorous and strong, and as the Knight, he was as effective and efficient as ever. The Brotherhood relied on his psychic abilities to stop evil and they had saved hundreds of people through the years. But age made them all less able to bounce back from injuries than in their youth.
He was sixty-one. Overall he still felt the same as he had when he'd taken up the Guardian mantle. But as he'd gotten older, he was more willing to acknowledge the emotional exhaustion of having been an "adult" since he was a child. He'd actively raised Sam since he was five or six years old; had backed up his father on hunts since he was ten. That made more than fifty years on active hunting duty. There were times those years were felt, more often now than in years past,
Sam was his biggest concern. Still in his prime at fifty-seven, Sam had many more years as Scholar ahead of him. If their Triad retired, Sam would need to step aside in favor of James, who was arguably the most ill-prepared of the next generation at only twenty-two. James had come a long way in maturity in the last couple years, especially since Sydney Matthews had been killed, but he still had a long way to go before he could step into Sam's shoes.
Elijah Matthews and his twin Ethan along with Gideon Lane were members of the second proposed Triad before Dean, Caleb and Sam had become official. Elijah had fathered three children; twins Sydney and Cecily and their brother Lane. Sydney had been visiting her father at the University in Texas where he taught Ancient Studies when she'd been killed by a campus gunman. JT and Sydney had been serious and were close to becoming engaged. That JT had been shattered was an understatement. But Jimmy had stepped in, consoling him in a way only a brother could.
With a sigh, Dean splashed his face energetically with ice cold water, hoping to pummel some color into his skin. After a vigorous rub with a towel he surveyed the results. While the water didn't help the bloodshot eyes, his skin looked healthier, and he'd take that.
Before heading into the Tomb, he stopped by the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee.
When he stepped inside the Hunter's Tomb, JT was bent over the table, a large book open in front of him. He was so focused he didn't even noticed Dean had entered.
"Something's up," Dean said.
JT's head jerked up. A smile bloomed on his face before it fell off to be replaced by a frown. Glancing at his watch, he demanded, "Why aren't you asleep?"
Dean took a seat. "Wasn't feeling it." He recognized the book JT had open: it was a book on omens. "What's up?"
JT sighed. After taking a second to gather his thoughts, he blurted out, "I had a dream."
Dean took a sip of his coffee and waited.
"Pastor Jim was in it." JT hesitated. "Pastor Jim was talking to me. I, uh, think he was telling me something important."
Slowly Dean placed his mug on the table. "Yeah?"
"I think Pastor Jim was talking to me as a Guardian. There were other Guardians there too, lots of them. I don't know how I knew who they were; I just did."
Dean's brain stalled. A dream. JT had a dream from Pastor Jim. Years of practice enabled Dean to control his features, but he felt gutted. His body stormed with a flood of emotions from confusion to betrayal to wrecked. He hadn't had a dream. In fact, he hadn't had a dream of Jim since hell. Now it looked like Jim and the Lady of the Lake were bypassing him to speak to the next Guardian. That made him feel cast aside, a failure; it was a confirmation that everything he'd done in hell really was unforgivable. All the old feelings of loathing overwhelmed the fragile healing his soul had achieved over the years, and poured into a newly split-open cavern in his spirit.
Dean stared at JT, finally realizing his son's lips were moving even though he couldn't hear anything through the buzzing in his ears. With more effort than he'd ever mustered before, he fought past his own feelings and focused on helping JT. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Uh, yeah, okay. When did you have this dream?"
"I had two. One was a couple days ago. I didn't think anything about it. I knew it was Pastor Jim, but he didn't say anything; just looked at me. The other men were there, but they were just men."
Dean forced himself to nod and say calmly, "And the second?"
"In the second I just knew everyone there were Guardians. All the past Guardians throughout time were lining the walls of this huge, ancient room. It looked like a castle, with huge stone walls, rushes on the stone floor. There were stairs leading up to what probably used to be a dais."
To Dean, it sounded like the castle hall he, Sam and Caleb had been in when they'd fought Regan and his Trinity.
"In the middle of the room was a table with four chairs," JT continued. "Pastor Jim, Julian, and Gideon were sitting around the table." JT stopped for a moment, then gave Dean a full-on JT smile of comfort and joy. "Pastor Jim is amazing. I wish I'd known him."
Seeing JT's smile settled him more than anything else could. "You would have loved him and he you," Dean said softly.
JT nodded. His eyes went back to the book, but Dean could tell he wasn't seeing what was written on the pages. "They were eating pie and talking when a large owl swooped in and landed in the middle of the table. Then everything froze except Jim. He looked at me and said, 'time is short. The Triad is needed to expel a viscous evil.'" JT looked back at Dean. "Then I woke up."
Dean's eyes narrowed. He could tell JT was leaving something out. He and JT shared the trait of expressive eyes. Sam always said he could always tell when Dean was lying or holding something back just by looking in his eyes. JT's expressive eyes contained the same emotional openness. "What else?" he asked softly.
JT sighed. "There were four chairs at the table. When Julian, Pastor Jim and Gideon were sitting there…" he swallowed hard. "I just knew the empty seat was for you someday." Meeting Dean's eyes with slightly veiled terror in his own, JT blurted out, "You're not leaving, are you? You feel fine? Not feeling sick or like you've got cancer or something?"
Dean smiled. "No, I feel fine, aside from tired after yesterday's hunt. And if Ben is to be believed after my last physical, I'm a paragon of health."
JT gave a huge sigh of relief. "Okay," he murmured softly, "okay. Good."
Dean nodded to the open book in front of his son. "So you're looking for omens about owls?"
JT nodded. "I don't know what it means. Did you have the dream too?"
Dean shook his head, again forcefully squelching his feeling of rejection. "No."
"Why not? You're the Guardian!"
JT's outrage on his behalf caused him to smile. "Maybe this is something for the Guardian elect, not the Guardian."
"But, that's not right," JT declared heatedly. "You don't go to the lieutenant when the General is standing right there."
"Don't think it works like that, champ. Let's take a look at the dream, okay?"
Grudgingly, JT nodded.
"So you believe all the men standing were past Guardians," Dean started.
JT nodded. "I don't know how I knew; I just did. Many were in period garb; some looked like knights, some like Vikings, some like musketeers…"
Dean smiled, noting Caleb's influence with his children knowing Renaissance garb as musketeers.
"There were a few that looked like the Wild West and one looked like a gangster," JT laughed.
"Might have been someone from the thirties," Dean interjected, thinking of his trip to the past and his time spent with Eliot Ness.
"When the owl flew in and landed on the table I woke up. When I had the second dream, I somehow recognized Julian and Gideon. Pastor Jim was the only one who spoke. He was the one who spoke about the evil."
Dean frowned, turning over the dream in his mind. Why were the past Guardians all there? He'd never had a dream with all the past Guardians. To him, that meant the future of the Brotherhood was in trouble. Owls typically represented death, but he hadn't spent a whole lot of time studying symbols and semiotics. And secretly he was delighted he knew that word.
"The past Guardians all being there means there's a threat to the Brotherhood."
JT nodded. "That's what I thought too. But how? Why?"
Dean shook his head. "I don't know. Owls have long been a symbol of death, so the owl landing on the table could be reinforcing the message of all the Guardians being in the dream." He pointed to the book in front of JT. "What does that say about owls?"
"There's a lot of information. Many cultures have a history of associating owls with darkness, negativity and mystery. But there's positive stuff too. Ancient Welsh people thought the owl meant fertility. Ancient Greeks and Romans associated the owl with Athena. She was the goddess of," JT looked down at the open book, "wisdom, inspiration, civilization, law and justice, strategic warfare, mathematics, strength, strategy, arts, crafts and skill."
"Wow," Dean said. "Powerful chic."
"A hard act to follow," JT remarked with a laugh. "Ancient statues of Athena show an owl sitting on her blind side so she would see and know all truth. Then you have ancient Christians, who saw owls as signs of evil. In Europe and the US owls were and still are, I guess, seen as harbingers of death. American Indians especially saw owls as death symbols. The Mayans called the screech owl "the moan bird" and believed if one heard the owl it meant death."
"We're Americans, so I'd say that the research focusing here would be the most relevant."
"I agree. Maybe we should get Uncle Sam and Jimmy in on this?"
Dean thought for a moment. "Before that, why don't we reach out to Joshua, see if the covens have heard anything. We'll do some research ourselves; check the Internet, see if there's news of any communities with owl sightings, maybe a rise in the owl population."
JT smiled. "Sounds good. How about I go make us a snack and you get started."
"Wow, thanks," Dean groused, though he was smiling.
JT laughed and disappeared through the door.
Once JT was gone the smile faded from Dean's face. He couldn't believe the Lady and Jim had passed him over. Maybe this was the sign that it was time he step aside, let the younger generation take over. While a part of him would love to focus more on Juliet and his business, when push came to shove, he just wasn't finished being the Guardian yet.
Pushing aside his feelings, he pulled over a laptop and got to work.
Caleb rolled over onto his side and moaned, a frown creasing his brow. Somehow, even in sleep, he knew he wasn't having a vision. This was something … different.
Scenes of dark shadows raced across long meadows, black trees that were miles tall skipped and flitted across his vision. Wails and screeches filled his ears, causing pain and feelings of sorrow to overwhelm him. It was a confusing and unpleasant jumble. In the midst of the chaos, flashes of intense white light pierced the darkness; it twisted and reached out from the trees, pierced up through the blades of meadow grass as though it were trying to dispel the darkness surrounding him.
Finally, he fought to push the dream away and woke up. He felt wrung out. With an annoyed huff he pushed himself into a sitting position. He was definitely done with stupid dreams that acted more like a low budget horror film. Running fingers through his hair, he rose and headed for the bathroom. He needed a refreshing shower to banish the images of darkness and evil.
Peering into the mirror, it always surprised him to see dark gray hair peppered with white. Typically people with dark hair went gray sooner than those with lighter hair, so he should have expected his black hair to turn gray. But when he was alone in the comfort of home, he could admit his vanity had taken a hit when he'd started going gray at forty-five. He considered himself fortunate that even at nearly seventy, his hair was more dark gray than white. Since his scruff was white, he knew that sooner rather than later his whole head would turn.
As for the rest of him, his body was still a work of art, he thought with a smirk. And his face was still relatively unlined except for the creases around his eyes, something he had in common with Dean.
At the thought of Dean, the feeling of sorrow he'd felt in his dream resurfaced, and he knew his connection with Dean had bled into the dream. Quickly he returned to his bedroom and grabbed his phone.
Dean picked up the phone from beside the laptop. "Hey, Damian. What's up?"
"I should be asking you that question. What's going on?"
Dean sighed. He should have known Damian would pick up on his feelings regarding JT's dream. "Feel up for some research?"
Caleb knew this was Dean-speak for come over and talk. "I'll be over in thirty."
Caleb hung up, thankful for the thousandth time he'd decided to move from New York to Kentucky. While he'd missed being near his father, he loved being closer to Dean, Joshua and now Sam. And with Ben now living nearby with his wife and two children, he felt surrounded by family, and loved it.
Quickly he showered, pulled on his clothes, grabbed a sandwich from the kitchen and was outside the door in just over twenty minutes.
Dean heard Caleb's car from the Tomb. JT looked over at the door, then at his father.
"Caleb," Dean said, getting to his feet. "He's going to want to go over last weekend's hunt. I'll be back in a bit."
JT nodded and turned back to his book.
Caleb was opening the front door when Dean walked in. "Hey," Caleb said. "What's going on?"
Dean motioned toward the front porch and Caleb backtracked out the door. Once outside, Dean dropped onto the porch swing with a sigh. Caleb leaned against the railing and waited.
"JT had a dream with Pastor Jim," Dean finally said.
Caleb didn't know what he was expecting, but that wasn't it. "He had a dream with Pastor Jim," he clarified.
Dean nodded.
"Oh." Caleb frowned. He didn't like the implication. "You didn't."
Dean shook his head, and Caleb felt all the rejection and uncertainty that Dean usually kept under lock and key sweep through him.
"Okay." Caleb turned and stared into the yard. Like Dean, he wondered if this was a sign they should pass over the leadership of the Brotherhood to the next generation. His brain reeled. Was he ready to step down? He'd prepared for being the Knight nearly his entire life; he'd never wanted anything else. He loved training young hunters and working with Max, passing on all those lessons John had so diligently instilled in to him. Training Max connected him to John on a level he cherished. Whenever he said something to Max that John had said to him years ago, he felt like Johnny was standing right next to him, chiseled face half covered in dark scruff, nodding and giving him his rare smile.
Yes, there were other things he loved, like art and painting. Tri Corp still solicited his advice on projects from time to time, and he enjoyed being involved in the company he'd started all those years ago. He'd also taken on a consulting role in Ames Industries since his grandfather and Mac had passed away. He'd never been interested in Ames Industries before, but consulting with the managing board helped connect him to his much missed grandfather and father.
When Mac passed away at the ripe old age of ninety-five, Caleb had been wrecked. Though Mac had lived a good, long life, outliving Esme by ten years, Caleb would never be ready for his father to be gone. When he'd stepped inside his father's apartment on one of his many visits, he'd known immediately that Mac wasn't there. Though he'd spoken to Mac, told him he was coming over just the night before, the place felt empty. "Dad?" Running into the living room, the den, the study and finally the bedroom, he'd found his father lying in bed, a peaceful expression on his quiet, cold face. On some level he felt irrationally betrayed that Mac had left without telling him. Mac was never supposed to leave. At his funeral, crowded with Brotherhood members both old and young, Caleb vowed to continue to be the best Knight the Brotherhood had ever known. He would do this in honor of his father, Pastor Jim, John, and all who had gone on before.
After several minutes he turned around and faced his best friend. "Okay. You've had dreams from Jim over the years. You had dreams before you officially became the Guardian. So this one went to JT. Doesn't mean anything definitive."
"Doesn't it?" Dean questioned softly. "Yeah, I had dreams before I became the Guardian. But only after Jim died. I never had a dream before that."
"It would be difficult for Jim to appear in your dreams if he were alive," Caleb pointed out.
Dean rolled his eyes.
Caleb tried again. "Jim died in his prime."
Dean snorted out a humorless laugh.
"That's not what I mean and you know it," Caleb shot back. "I mean that Jim was killed before he had time to pass over the reins of the Brotherhood to us. We don't know what would have happened had he been able to retire and our Triad take over. This is new ground. Have you taken a look at past Guardian journals to see if something like this has happened before?"
Dean gave Caleb a blank stare.
"I take that as a no," Caleb snorted. "You just love jumping off the cliff, don't you?"
Dean stood, his stance defensive. "No, I don't, and that's not fair." Even as he said it he knew Caleb's comment had some validity. "I haven't had time to see if anything like this has ever happened before." And he hadn't thought of it. "I was surprised," he defended.
"Yeah," Caleb said, letting Dean off the hook, but knowing the truth. There were scars in Dean that the years had helped heal to a large extent. But every once in a while the damage from past wounds and fissures to his self esteem, from childhood and his time in hell, leaked out and threw him for a loop. Moving to the topic of the dream, he asked, "So, what was this dream?"
Grateful for Caleb moving on, Dean leaned against the railing next to his friend. "Past Guardians were there standing against a long wall. In the middle of the dream was a table with Julian, Pastor Jim and Gideon sitting around it eating pie. There was also an empty seat, and JT said he knew that one was for me."
"What?" Caleb yelped, jerking away from the railing and facing Dean. "He said the empty chair was for you? When?"
Dean held out a calming hand. "I don't think it's meant for now, like I'm in danger. JT didn't have that feeling. I think it meant the someday, he'll have dreams and I'll be in them." Moving on quickly before Caleb's fear could infect them both, he continued, "Then a large owl swooped in and landed on the table. Pastor Jim said that time was short and the Triad is needed to expel a viscous evil."
"That it?"
Dean nodded. "We're researching owl mythology and semiotics, and we're looking at the news for any increase in owl sightings."
Caleb didn't say anything for a moment. The entire situation made him feel uncomfortable and off kilter. Finally he shoved his feelings aside and gave Dean a sly smile. "Semiotics?"
Dean shoved Caleb and went to open the door. "Shut up," he grumbled.
"It's taken more years than I can count, but finally Sam's book smart vocabulary is wearing off on you. Never thought I'd see the day," Caleb intoned while dodging a fist aimed in his direction. "I'm so proud!"
Caleb was chuckling as he peeled off toward the Tomb. Dean rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen for more coffee. He also shoved some cookies onto a plate and headed for the Tomb, where he heard his best friend and son talking.
"I've heard of owls being death omens," Caleb was saying. "Many Native American Indian tribes believed that."
"Still do, according to the research," JT replied.
Looking up as Dean entered the Tomb, Caleb asked, "You contact Josh yet?"
Dean put the plate full of cookies in the middle of the table as he shook his head. "Not yet. Wanted to do some research on owl sightings, see if there's been any aggressive owl activity."
Caleb snorted out a laugh. "Aggressive owls?"
JT laughed.
"You know what I mean," Dean groused, but with a smile.
"Yeah." Caleb pulled a note pad towards him and opened a laptop. "You know, we've got scholars for this shit. They actually enjoy it."
"Sam's in New York helping Jimmy with his college choices."
"Hasn't he finished yet?"
Dean smiled. "He finished a double major in International Business and Entrepreneurship. Now he's going for his MBA."
"He want to take over the world?"
"He wants to run Ames Industries," JT said.
Caleb studied JT's face. His godson had stepped away from a degree at the University of Louisiana to play for the Paw Sox and then the Red Sox. He was also a gifted and successful photographer. By necessity he was an action photographer, and his photos of supernatural creatures helped immensely in teaching new hunters. Early in his career he'd been drafted a few times as a fashion photographer, but had found the experience unsatisfying. Caleb thought he was crazy, but JT just wasn't interested in scantily clad models with fallow expressions, or so he said.
Where JT excelled was as a photojournalist. His artist's eye caught people in the most unique place, and those photos always sold quickly and for a pretty penny. Caleb had given him his parents North Carolina seaside home years ago, and JT used it as an office head quarters and a place of refuge. After Sydney's death, he'd resigned from the Red Sox to hunt full time. But he still worked at his photography.
"You want to finish your degree?" Caleb asked gently.
JT immediately shook his head. "No. If things had been different, maybe; but that time's gone. I got to play for the Sox, I have a successful business," he gave his uncle and father a smile. "I'm good."
Dean nodded, though he often worried about JT giving up college. He could have gone back to school after playing for the Sox, earned that degree. The University would have welcomed him back with open arms. But Sydney's death had changed things; changed him. Dean knew what it was like for the door to shut on opportunities. It was a lesson he never wanted his kids to learn. But the lesson had found JT, and with that finding, there was no going back.
Caleb nodded. "Yeah, only room for one geek in the family and Jimmy nabbed that position a long time ago." He situated his papers on the table and went back to his computer screen.
Dean gave a huge yawn and Caleb slapped his notepad on the table.
"Okay, that's enough." Caleb pointed in the vague direction of the stairs and ordered, "Go to sleep. I'm here, so the smarts are covered. You're distracting me and Johnny with all your yawning."
"I'm not…"
"If you say you're not tired, I'm going to slap you upside the head, John Winchester style. Go to bed."
"Fine," Dean grumped. "But I'm only going because I choose to, not because of your threats."
"Whatever makes you go," Caleb muttered, his eyes on the computer screen.
Dean climbed the stairs to his and Juliet's bedroom and flopped down onto the bed. He was exhausted and glad Caleb had given him an out to get some sleep. He wasn't ordered to go to sleep, because that order he wouldn't obey. Rolling onto his back, he gave a heartfelt sigh and let his body relax. He was still disturbed about JT having a Guardian dream and worried about what it might mean. He didn't begrudge JT the dream, because he loved his son more than he ever thought possible. Ever since Juliet had put that baby boy into his arms, he'd been in love. But it did make him wonder about his own position as Guardian.
With an effort, he shoved those thoughts from his mind and flipped back onto his stomach. One hand went under the pillow and he let himself drift to sleep.
SPNSPNSPN
He was sitting at a table with a fork in his hand. Startled, Dean looked up to see Pastor Jim grinning at him. "Wha…?" He looked around. On his right sat Gideon, calmly eating a bite of apple pie. On his left was a man he knew from pictures, but had never met.
"Better dig in," Gideon said. "He's a greedy pie eater." He pointed to a man on Dean's left.
"He's right," Julian said. "I love pie; especially Jim's pie. Always have."
"You're not hungry?" Pastor Jim asked, bringing Dean's attention back to him. "You're always hungry."
"I…" Dean broke off, completely at a loss for words.
Jim picked up the pie pan and shoved another piece of apple pie onto Dean's already filled plate.
Julian shot the pastor a disgruntled look before pulling the peach pie toward his side of the table.
Dean felt a surge of anger. They were all sitting here as if nothing was the matter, as if it was perfectly normal for JT to have come here instead of him. Maybe it was. He should have thought to look at former Guardian journals before getting bent out of shape. But he did feel angry and cast aside.
Looking up, he met Pastor Jim's eyes and knew the older man knew how he was feeling.
"There was a reason," Jim said softly.
Dean pushed away from the table and stood, ready for the hit. He nodded, ignoring the gazes of both Gideon and Julian. "I know. I don't belong here anymore. You're doing me a favor by telling me in person for the last time."
"My boy," Pastor Jim said, rising quickly, his voice filled with concern. "You more than anyone belong here." He rounded the table and forced Dean to meet his eyes. "We were always here, all of us, watching you, rooting for you, aching with you and cheering your many, many victories. You were never alone; never." He pointed to all the Guardians lining the walls. "That's why they're here now. They're all here for you, my boy; for you," he emphasized. "No one wanted to be left out. The reason you haven't been back here since hell is you. You didn't believe you were worthy. The wounds searing your soul were a grievous scar that has taken years to heal. And all through the years we were here, watching and waiting and cheering."
Dean shook his head, his ears hearing but his mind unable to comprehend what Jim was saying.
"We wanted to tell you we are so proud of you, the best Guardian the Brotherhood has ever seen, but you wouldn't let us in. But we were always here."
Dean felt the sob rise in his chest and fought with all his strength to stop the emotion from erupting. However, his heart betrayed him and tears leaked from his eyes.
Jim pulled Dean to his chest and let the tears soak his shirt. "You have the brightest soul, the most loyal and self-sacrificing spirit of any Guardian in history. When you retire, you will be sorely missed."
And though Dean fought it with every fiber of his being, he lost. His chest heaved and sobs poured out. He sobbed out his sorrows and hurts and fears onto the one man who knew him better than anyone; onto the man who saw the innermost places nearly everyone but Damian missed. He felt other hands on his head and back, soothing, comforting and encouraging, and he knew the other Guardians from throughout time were telling him he was a part of a long history and welcomed. His failures weren't counted; only his victories were celebrated. There was no condemnation in the many touches; only comfort. Their touches brought more healing than all the years since hell.
Finally Dean pushed away. His face flushed with embarrassment. But then, this was all in his head, wasn't it? It's not like anyone really needed to know.
Gideon reached around Jim and handed him a handkerchief. Nodding, Dean blew his nose and slowly sat back at the table. Embarrassed, he glanced over at Julian, who winked at him before putting another bite of pie into his mouth.
"My boy," Jim said as he retook his seat. "You're wondering why we brought in JT instead of coming to you. The truth is, you weren't listening."
Gideon huffed out a laugh while ignoring the daggers look Dean shot his way.
"So through JT, the doorway is open again." Jim smiled at Dean. "He looks so much like you it's like time turned back. You must be so proud. He's going to make a wonderful Guardian."
Dean nodded. "I am proud of him."
Jim poured a glass of his famous sweet tea and placed it in front of Dean's plate, silently ordering him to eat his pie.
Dean sighed and sliced his fork through the flaky pastry and warm apples.
Nodding his pleasure, Jim got down to business. "There's a force of evil coming. Caleb has had contact with someone who can help defeat it, though he isn't aware of that yet. Don't tell him. He'll come into the knowledge soon enough. I know there hasn't been an opportunity for the entire Triad as well as the Triad to come to work together. This is it."
The fork Dean held stopped halfway to his mouth. "What?"
"You all need to work together."
"But…" Dean shook his head in confusion. "Our Triad is protected when hunting together. We barely escaped the Triad Trap Meg and Ruby used on us years ago. We've searched for that book of magic Meg spoke about for years, but never found it. If we do need to hunt together, we wear a talisman Joshua and the coven developed that has protected us against supernatural powers and traps. Even that talisman hasn't been tested against another Triad Trap. Putting our Triad and the future Triad all together would be irresponsible as well as dangerous."
"Not in this case," Jim said.
Dean frowned. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why? Even if Joshua makes talismans specifically designed to protect JT, Max and Jimmy - and that would take time - I wouldn't put them in that kind of danger, not without a damn good reason."
Jim studied Dean's set face. He was no longer speaking to his protégé, his "boy." He was speaking to the Guardian of the Brotherhood, a man with more experience in the field than he'd had in his own life, a man with many more successes in hunting than he'd ever achieved. But there were things he knew on this side of the veil that Dean didn't know. But he wasn't going to convince him of anything unless he spoke Guardian to Guardian.
"This evil is very old and very powerful."
Dean's fork hit the table. "More powerful than Lucifer?"
"Different type of power," Jim said slowly. "Lucifer was more powerful than any other created being, defeating him was more than any Guardian or Triad has taken on. Though Sam was successful in shutting Lucifer back in his box, it was a very risky move on his part, a move that could have cost you your Triad before you even took on the reins of office. In the years following Lucifer's defeat, you've dealt with fallen and rogue angels. In several of those instances you needed the help of angels, one in particular; Castiel."
Dean sighed in longing. It had been years since he'd seen his friend and he missed him.
Pastor Jim smiled. "He speaks of you often as well."
Dean goggled. "Seriously? You've met him?"
"Of course I've met him. Maybe he'll pay you a visit again someday." Pastor Jim gave Dean a smile, then quickly pulled himself out of father-mode and back into Guardian mode. "This hunt is one that has been in limbo for decades. A guardian has been working tirelessly to hold this evil in check, but it has grown past her strength to contain it."
"A guardian? One chick? How's she been holding this evil in place?"
"Metaphysically."
Dean stared, mulling over what Pastor Jim was saying. There was an evil, an old evil. Only one guardian had been holding it back … but two Triads were needed to eliminate it? It didn't make sense. "If only one person has been keeping this evil in check, why do both Triads need to work together to conquer it? My Triad can take it down."
"This one person is uniquely qualified to keep the evil in check. Unfortunately, there is no one to take over, no one who is as qualified as this person. In this one, specific case, you'll need the resources of both Triads to not merely banish this evil, but to end it forever."
"Who is this person?" Dean asked.
Jim shook his head. "I'm not allowed to tell you that."
Dean leaned back in his chair and sighed. Why did everything have to be so cryptic? Why couldn't Jim just say go here and kill this, and that would be the end?
"Nothing is ever that simple." When he saw Dean's startled expression, Jim laughed. "And no, I can't read your mind. Everything you ever thought has always been written clearly across your face. You've always been as easy to read as a book."
"I'm an enigma," Dean protested weakly.
Gideon snorted. "Even I could read you."
Julian laughed.
"Could not," Dean muttered.
"Keep telling yourself that," Gideon retorted.
Jim gave the younger man a censoring look before saying to Dean, "We're always here for you. Don't ever forget that."
Dean opened his eyes.
At first his mind was a blank, as though his brain was a sieve and even a semblance of thoughts drained right through. But after a few moments it was on fire with all he'd heard and felt. He knew the instant Caleb felt his emotions, and he wasn't surprised when his best friend appeared in the doorway moments later.
"What's wrong?" Caleb asked, anxiously. Then he saw Dean's face clearly and relaxed. "You're better."
Dean nodded. "Turns out the only one keeping me from Pastor Jim was me."
Caleb sat on the edge of the bed. "Hell?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," Dean whispered.
Caleb didn't speak; just waited for Dean to continue.
"Seems like I wasn't listening, so Pastor Jim spoke to me through JT."
"So JT got a preemptive walk on the psychic side?"
Dean shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe this sort of thing has happened before. Guess I should have looked into some of the past Guardian journals," he finished cheekily.
Caleb smiled. "So what did Pastor Jim have to say?"
"He loved JT; said he was going to be a great Guardian."
"Not a surprise, considering his old man."
"Said he was handsome too."
"Dude, you know I don't believe everything you say."
Dean huffed out a laugh. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he rested his back against the bed's headboard. "He said an evil was coming, something big and bad. Both Triads, present and future, need to work together to defeat it."
"Seriously?" Caleb exclaimed, his eyes wide.
"Yeah."
"So the owl…"
"That's a part of it. JT got the information on the evil. We need to research this and…" Just then Dean's cell went off. Glancing at the cell face, his brows rose. Answering, he said, "Jody?"
Author's Notes:
This is the first chapter of a 28 chapter story. Each new chapter will be posted on Friday before noon. UPDATE: I will post TWO new chapters a week. This is a Brotherhood AU story using characterizations of Supernatural characters developed by Ridley C James. I admire this universe very much, and hope to do it justice. There will be references to other Ridley C James stories within as well as some references to episodes of Supernatural. The inspiration for this story was Dean's Triad in their older years. I wanted to explore the using of Triad magic and the characters as they've aged and are getting near their retirement. I also wanted to explore the younger generation in their hunter roles.
I've tried to stay as faithful as possible to Ridley's stated character ages and names, though a bit of guesswork was needed for some of the younger generation. I've also take a bit of license with some extra characters that were mentioned but not developed in Ridley's material.
I am not an expert in metaphysics, paranormal, and many of the other elements I bring up in this book. My research was enough to write a convincing story, but not remotely enough to teach a course! I also wanted to thank Anna for proofing this story and letting me know how it all worked together. Thank you!
I do not own any Supernatural properties nor do I make any money from writing this story.
