Sam didn't know what offended him more – Dean sharing his very personal issues with this man who was a virtual stranger, or the fact that he'd asked for help from Jonathan and his "Native American spirit stuff". It was nearly a draw.
Sam stared incredulously at Dean. He couldn't even come up with anything particularly appropriate to say. An exasperated "Dean!" was all he managed to come up with.
Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "Look Sam, you've got to deal with these dreams. You can't sleep. You haven't eaten in days. And don't think I'm going all soft on ya…this is about me. I'm not getting my ass killed because you can't stay awake long enough to watch my back."
Sam's face clouded with anger – all he was hearing from Dean was criticism and selfishness. Preventing Dean's death was all Sam could think about and here he was accusing Sam of potentially being the cause of his demise. It infuriated Sam.
Though Sam was functioning on too little sleep to pick up on Dean's underlying concern for him, Jonathan caught it loud and clear. He could sense that the brothers were at an important crossroad in their lives – Dean was so focused on Sam, that he didn't see how his own path cried out for redirection.
Sam stood abruptly. "Can I talk to you?" Sam demanded and headed out to the porch without waiting for Dean to respond. Dean flashed his patented grin at Jonathan as he rose to follow Sam, but Jonathan could sense his underlying determination. He'd brought Sam this far to get him some help. As Dean disappeared onto the porch, Jonathan rose from where he'd been seated as well. Assuming Dean won the argument that was about to break out, it would be easier for all of them if he was ready.
When Sam heard Dean's footfalls on the wooden porch behind him, he whirled angrily to face his brother. "What the hell are you doing, Dean?"
Gone was the grin and playful manner; Dean was all business as he stalked toward Sam; he cut right to the chase giving Sam no room for argument.. "What am I doing? What I'm doing is pretty clear. How about filling me in on what's going on with you?" Dean strode closer as he yelled at Sam; Sam looked away. "You can't even look me in the eye, Sammy!"
Suddenly, Dean ran out of steam. He ended up standing right in front of Sam. If it wasn't such a girly thing to do, he would've reached out to put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know I can't help you, Sam. I don't know why you won't let me." It stunned Sam to hear the hurt in Dean's voice. He looked up to look at Dean's face, but now it was Dean who had to look away. "So if you won't let me help you, maybe you'll let someone else do it."
Sam's brow creased with thought as he tried to work things out. Could it be possible that by bringing him here Dean was somehow responsible for changing his own destiny; or, would an action taken here seal Dean's fate? The possibilities made Sam's head hurt and he felt as frozen by indecision as he did in his dreams. He'd pushed so long to try to solve the dreams on his own he basically couldn't think straight; and now that he was thinking about it, he realized he was no longer clear on why he'd been keeping the dreams from Dean in the first place. He hadn't shared anything with Jessica, and because of that she was dead. But at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to tell Dean that the nightmares had changed and that Dean was now in the fiery center.
Sam could feel his resolve crumbling. He'd had almost no success deconstructing the dreams on his own, and he felt strongly that time was running out. He'd spent so long trying to control the dreams on his own with no success that he was just about ready to accept an outside source of help. Maybe this was just what he needed – a guide, someone to help interpret the messages he seemed to be getting from somewhere deep inside.
Dean sensed Sam's indecision and continued to press him. "Look Sammy, of all the people Dad and I have met on our "hunting trips", Jonathan's the real deal. Of all the nasty, evil things we've had to destroy, he's one of the bright lights keeping all of that stuff at bay. I trust him. He can help you, Sam."
Again, Sam was stunned by Dean; he sounded almost philosophical. The more time he spent with his brother as an adult, the more he realized he hardly knew him at all. But one thing he did know about Dean, an irrefutable fact that was one of the foundations of his life, was that Dean always looked out for him. Sure, they had their arguments and didn't agree on how to do things all the time, but when push came to shove Dean was always there for him. He trusted Dean with his life; and if Dean trusted Jonathan, then Sam could too.
Sam let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the porch railing. "Okay."
"Okay?" Dean repeated, needing confirmation.
"Okay." Sam said again. "I don't know if this friend of yours can do anything…but at the very least, it can't hurt, right?"
Dean was too shocked by Sam's almost immediate capitulation to do anything. The sound of the front door opening caught the attention of both brothers. Sam lifted his head to look at Jonathan, while Dean turned to face him. Jonathan was no longer wearing jeans and a shirt; he had donned a rawhide robe and carried a tray of items Sam couldn't identify. Dean gave one sharp clap with his hands, "What do we do?" Now that Sam had agreed to let someone help him, Dean was eager to begin.
Jonathan knocked the wind out of his sails immediately. "We do nothing, Dean Winchester. This is a journey your brother will take alone."
Because Sam was standing behind Dean he could see his shoulders tense; Dean was preparing for an argument. Jonathan cut him off again. "You have completed your part of this journey, Dean. It fell to you to bring Sam here. Now, for a time, he must travel alone."
"Where is he going?" Dean demanded, angry to have been so quickly cut out of the proceedings after working so long to get Sam to this point.
With a slight smile on his face Jonathan replied. "To the backyard."
The three men gathered in the yard behind the house. The yard was as neat and as well kept as the house. Everything growing there seemed to have a purpose and a place. Sam found the overall effect of the place very calming and soothing; he supposed that was the intention. Jonathan led the way past the well tended gardens abundant with vegetables and herbs until they stood before a wooden structure. At first glance the structure might have been mistaken for a large shed, but the thin curl of smoke escaping from a hole in the roof spoke of a different purpose.
"This is where your journey will begin, Sam Winchester, once you are prepared."
Dean looked at the structure with skepticism. "He's gonna go in there and work all this stuff out? What's it…like a sweat lodge? You gonna 'smoke 'um peace pipe' and all that?" Dean grinned even as he mimed smoking a pipe.
Sam grimaced. Dean was just coming out with all sorts of inappropriate and politically incorrect things to say. He didn't know how Jonathan resisted smacking him upside his head.
"It is a place to start."
Sam looked at the building. He could feel his apprehension building in his chest, but he was surprised to realize, hope was growing as well. Maybe this could be something – if nothing else, it might give him a clue as to how to prevent his visions of Dean dying in the fire from coming true. That was all he really wanted – he had to find a way to save Dean.
Sam was so focused on his own thoughts that he didn't realize that Jonathan was dismissing Dean. "This journey will take some time, Dean Winchester - a few hours at the very least. You are welcome to make yourself comfortable in the house – eat, sleep, whatever you choose. All I ask is that once we have begun, that you do not interrupt us."
Dean took a deep breath, and Sam realized that in spite of his bravado and blustering Dean was just as apprehensive about this whole thing as he was. Dean nodded as he released the air from his lungs. "Okay Sam?" It struck Sam as funny – Dean wasn't asking if he was okay. After all of the effort Dean had gone through to get him to this point, what he was really asking was if Sam was willing to go through with the ritual, because if he wasn't Dean would back him up and they would find another way.
"Yeah…it's okay." Sam nodded with more confidence than he felt. Dean gave him a searching look. Then satisfied with what he saw on Sam's face, turned to go back to the house.
"Dean!" Sam called. Dean stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks."
Dean grinned and resumed walking. "You're gonna owe me, Sam." he called out.
"I already do." Sam replied far too low for Dean to hear him.
Sam turned to Jonathan who had been waiting patiently during the exchange. "We will begin." he stated. "Is it true what your brother said, you have not eaten in days?"
Sam squinted his eyes as he thought back. His lack of sleep was defiantly impeding his memory skills. "Yeah, at least a day or two since I had a real meal."
"That is good. You have already fasted."
Jonathan led Sam to the lean-to area attached to the larger shed and instructed him to remove his clothing. Sam was relieved that Jonathan did not insist that he remove his boxers, because if he had, the whole experiment would've ended right there. Jonathan took a pitcher of water from a niche in the wall and poured it over Sam's head as he mumbled an incantation in a language Sam didn't recognize. Sam shivered as the cold water sluiced down his shoulders and back.
Jonathan removed his robe and Sam was relieved again to realize that the older man wasn't naked. He was wearing what appeared to be a loincloth. Gathering the tray with the things he'd brought out from the house, Jonathan opened the door to the shed and gestured for Sam to precede him into the room.
Sam had only taken a few steps when Jonathan closed the door behind them. In the center of the room was a small fire pit. A fire was already crackling away – the source of the smoke they had seen from outside. Jonathan made an adjustment to the leather square situated below the smoke-hole and maneuvered it so that more of the smoke would be trapped inside the room. Sam busied himself by looking around as Jonathan prepared for the ritual.
The floor of the building was not plain or dirt packed the way Sam was expecting. Instead, on the floor was a series of interlocking circles. He was standing in the white quadrant; he could see how the colors changed as he looked clockwise around the circle – black, blue, red. It was a pattern Sam recognized. Many cultures had the idea of a "wheel of life" and the Cherokee Medicine Wheel was represented on the floor. Sam didn't know the specifics of the placement of each color, but he was sure Jonathan would elaborate. Sam was so intent on examining the floor that he hadn't noticed Jonathan add a number of herbs to the fire. The smoke in the room became more pungent, and Sam breathed deeply. Unbeknownst to him, he was already entering a trance-like state; far more open to the unknown than usually allowed himself to be.
Jonathan was pleased to note how receptive Sam was to the proceedings, even before they had begun. He approached where Sam was standing, eyes half closed. Speaking as a teacher would to a student, Jonathan began.
"Your journey begins, as all life begins, in the South. This part of the wheel represents innocence, childhood; the season is summer. Your journey on this part of the wheel has been sadly short, and so we must travel on." With a hand on Sam's left bicep, Jonathan guided Sam into the next quadrant of the circle.
Standing in the black portion of the circle, Jonathan continued. "The West part of the wheel represents your adolescent understanding of life of the flesh. You must learn that all life ends in death, as the season of autumn teaches us every year. Once again, your lessons came early on this part of your journey, and we will travel on."
Jonathan walked Sam to the next colored circle, and stood with him in the blue quadrant as he continued talking. "You have come as an adult to this part of your journey – exercising your mind. In the North, in this season of winter you fight to survive. Though this leg of your journey is not yet complete, we must travel on."
By now, Sam's eyes had fully closed. He was solely led by the hand on his arm and the voice of his guide. Jonathan could feel him listening with an interior ear, as if he knew just how important the lessons he learned here were going to be. Jonathan led him to the final quadrant – East. "Here in the Spring, you will find reawakening, and victory over winter. It is here you will embark on the journey of spirit, and learn to embrace your very self."
Jonathan could feel Sam trembling in his grasp. Though on a deep level Sam understood that this examination was exactly what he needed to do, it still frightened him. Jonathan backed Sam up a few paces and pushed him until he sat on a bench in the Eastern quadrant of the circle. Sam had opened his eyes and was staring fixedly at the fire.
Though he had only known Sam a short time, Jonathan felt very drawn to him. Jonathan could sense the heavy burden Sam had been carrying and wanted to help him lessen his load.
"Tell me, Sam Winchester. Tell me of the dreams that haunt you. Together we may find the path to lead you from their torment."
Sam turned to Jonathan for the first time since entering the building. His eyes were filled with fear and sparkled with reflections from the flames at the center of the circles. "I know the path," Sam whispered hoarsely and swallowed hard. "…it's through the fire."