The Chaos Tree

Chapter 24

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"We're approaching mile marker one-thirty-seven," Elijah said, his eyes on the side of the road.

Ethan tripped his right-hand signal and moved onto the shoulder of the highway, slowing to a stop.

Elijah stared at his brother, his brows raised. "Why are we stopping?"

Ethan didn't speak for a moment, then he said, "I have an odd feeing about this one."

Frowning, Elijah asked, "As in we shouldn't go in and place the spell bags?"

"No. I'm not sure what it is."

"Maybe it's another spell. Joshua felt something too, you know, before they reached the protection line. Maybe this is what Joshua was feeling when they pulled off. Caleb and Sam would have been in full-on block mode, and Joshua would have been focused on where the protection line began."

"And Dean?" Ethan asked, amusement in his voice.

"Dean's the Guardian…"

"And the Guardian mind is different," Ethan finished.

"Yeah." Elijah leaned forward and scanned the countryside ahead and along the side. "Maybe that feeling of trepidation urges truckers and drivers to get through Smith County faster so the townspeople don't have to worry about them stopping in Lebanon."

"Yeah, maybe." Ethan ran a hand over his face. He was used to danger, and used to paying attention to that sense of danger.

"Do you want to turn back?" Elijah asked, his tone serious. "This was our idea, something that wasn't planned. No one will ask any questions."

Ethan shook his head. His instincts were telling him to turn back, instincts honed through decades of police work and longer years of hunting. But this wasn't the first time he'd gone on despite their protest. Of course, the results of his ignoring them had been mixed, and he didn't want to risk his brother.

"I'll take the risk," Elijah said softly, knowing exactly what his brother was thinking. They were twins, after all.

Ethan huffed out a short laugh. "Yeah, okay. But the moment we detect anything off, we're out of there. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"We need to commit to this scenario one hundred percent," Ethan said for perhaps the tenth time. "This is going to be the performance of our lives."

Elijah nodded. "From this moment on, we're on stage."

"We're the best actors the world has ever seen," Ethan intoned.

"Don't get crazy," Elijah said, his eyes belaying his teasing tone.

Making sure his blocks were firmly in place, Ethan gave his brother a reassuring nod.

Elijah returned the gesture, his blocks up and strong. "We're just a couple of guys on a road trip. Nothin' to see here."

"Then let's go, Obi Wan." Ethan looked over his left shoulder and waited for a truck to pass before he pulled back onto the road. "Spell dust ready?"

"Yes." Elijah pulled some of the same dust Joshua had used the night before and placed it in a small cup on the dashboard. "Fourteen miles before Highway 191."

"Annnddd ... Action," Ethan mumbled. Reaching forward, he slipped a disc into the player on the SUV's dashboard. Suddenly music of the Jason Boland and the Straggler's cover of George Strait's Proud Soul filled the vehicle.

I been on the road now dang near all my life; An' I do love to sing a song.

I can say I've worked hard, put in my time; now it's time to go home.

And catch up on my chores; watch the sunset from my porch.

A few miles down the road, the dust in the small cup sparkled while the pair of them continued to sing. They'd past a protection line. Elijah leaned forward and took the cup from the dashboard. Pulling out a lighter, he set the mixture on fire and watched as the potion was completely burned. He then opened the window and dumped the ashes out before placing the small cup back into his duffle. When he sat back up, he shouted over the music, "Don't you want some lunch?"

"Lunch?" Ethan called back before turning down the volume. "We're in the middle of nowhere, dude. Have some jerky."

"I hate jerky," Elijah stated, playing along with their rehearsed plan.

"Don't you have your laptop, nerd?"

"Seriously? Aren't you a little old to be calling me nerd?" griped Elijah as he pulled out his cell.

"You're never too old to hack off your brother," Ethan stated jovially.

"Jerk," Elijah muttered. Pulling up the Internet, he scrolled around for a moment before saying, "There's supposed to be a town ahead."

"Yeah?" Ethan pretended to look around. "Where? It's like Little House on the Prairie out here."

Elijah laughed. "Little House? Seriously?"

"I used to read it to Gabrielle when she was little. And it's set somewhere around here."

"Laura Ingalls Wilder grew up in Wisconsin," Elijah answered, as though he couldn't help himself.

"Ha!" Ethan crowed. "You know where the Little House girl grew up!"

"I had girls too," Elijah said, though his voice was filled with sorrow.

Ethan looked over at Elijah, regretful for where their fake conversation had led them. Ethan's daughter Sydney had been killed in a University campus shooting a few years before. "I'm sorry."

"It's been years," Elijah said softly.

"That doesn't make it any better."

"No," Elijah said, glancing over at Ethan. "No, it doesn't."

At that moment Ethan spied the signs for State Highway 191 ahead. A quick look at Elijah told him his brother had as well. Continuing on with the conversation, he said, "Let's stop a moment, all right?"

Elijah nodded. "Yeah, that would be good." They weren't sure their conversation could be heard by the spells cast around Lebanon, but they were taking no chances.

There was a small turnout right before the cross roads of US 281 and Hwy 191. Ethan pulled the SUV to the side of the road, put the car in park and turned off the engine.

Elijah pushed open the door and stepped outside the vehicle, striding a few yards away. Head down, he took a few deep breaths as though he were troubled. Truthfully, thinking of Sydney brought both joy and sorrow. He'd loved her laugh, her wit, her stubbornness and her generous spirit. He walked on, his footsteps drifting and seemingly aimless. He was glad that Sydney and Cecily had been so different, because though they were identical twins, he didn't see Sydney in her sister, and that made things easier on him and his wife.

Ethan climbed from the SUV, went slowly to the front of the car and leaned into the hood, his eyes on his brother. His blocks were up and strong, the words to Whitey Morgan and the 78's Hard Scratch Pride running through his head:

When I left that holler I was just a boy, flat-broke and busted and hell-bent to make it on my own.

Hell, I couldn't go back home, I could hear that train, it moans a lonesome song…

"Are you all right?"

Ethan had heard the car coming west on Hwy 191, had felt the car pull slowly onto the gravel behind him. Still, he jerked around in surprise. Shading his eyes from the sun, he focused on the man parked across US 281. "What?"

A short, squat man stood across the street beside an old Toyota Avalon Hybrid. It appeared he was heading north. "Are you all right?" the man repeated. His stance appeared casual, but Ethan noted the tension in his shoulders and the way his arms hung motionless at his sides.

Inside the sparse woods, Elijah tripped a little and leaned against a tree surrounded by bushes. Palming the spell bag in his pocket, he crouched down on the pretense of retying his boot, slipping the pouch under a particularly thick bush. Head down, he wiped the tears from his eyes. They had been real, a testament to the loss of his baby girl.

Back on the road, Ethan nodded his reply. "Yeah." Looking both ways, he jogged across the highway. "We just needed a moment."

The man's eyes narrowed. "This isn't a safe intersection for a stroll."

Ethan sighed. He was going to have to go for it. "I stepped in it with my brother and mentioned my niece."

"Your niece?" the man questioned, his gaze on the patch of trees across the street where Elijah could barely be seen.

"Yeah. She was killed by a campus shooter a few years ago," Ethan explained. "My brother just needed a moment to regain his composure. Sorrow sometimes hits you like that, you know?"

The man's shoulders relax a little and he nodded. "Yes."

Ethan turned and could see Elijah wiping his eyes and walking back toward the SUV. "Damn it," he muttered. He hated to see the sorrow etched in Elijah's frame.

"He'll be all right," the man said, a note of sorrow in his voice.

"Yeah, he will," Ethan agreed, his eyes still on his brother as Elijah emerged from the trees. "Until it hits him again." With a sigh, he turned and said, "Thank you for your concern."

The man nodded. "Where are you heading?"

"Medford. Got a few more hours in the car," Ethan said. "Is there a place to get something to eat nearby?"

The man hesitated, then said, "There's a Midway Co-Op Gas Station heading into town, and a small grocery down Main Street."

"Anything is better than beef jerky," Ethan remarked. Seeing Elijah standing near the car, he looked both up US 281 before saying, "Thanks for the concern!" and jogging back across the street. When he got to the SUV, he climbed inside beside his brother. "You all right?"

Elijah gave his brother a small smile, saying, "I'm fine, good."

Ethan nodded and started up the engine. After a look over his shoulder, he pulled the SUV back onto the road and they headed into Lebanon.

"No!" Sam stated vehemently, dropping a box loaded with burgers and sandwiches on the table. Dean and Caleb were setting up in the newly-acquired suite at the Holiday Inn Express, clearing the table for the boys when they brought the potion ingredients upstairs.

Dean hurriedly checked to make sure no drinks spilled, but they were all in bottles with screw-top lids.

"That's what I said," Caleb stated, picking up the box of food and moving it to the sideboard. "Have this out quick. Johnny and the others are on their way up."

Sam growled at Caleb's casual tone, but instead of confronting the Knight, he stepped over to Dean. "I don't want you to do this."

"I don't want to do it either," Dean said ruefully. "But Josh needs seeds from Eden added to the potion to send the Tree back," he shrugged in as nonchalant a manner as he could.

"The Tree being from there isn't enough of a direct connection?" Sam demanded.

"Apparently not," Dean said with a sigh. He'd already gone over all this with Caleb, and didn't relish treading the same ground with Sam. Truthfully, he was tired and would have liked to lie down and get a short nap. Maybe his dream stroll in Eden wasn't enough rejuvenation to counter the stress of going back into the protection circle with the death seeds, as he called them in his head. Or maybe the euphoria he felt being there, even in a dream, had worn off.

"Get some sleep," Caleb said, snagging a keycard from the table.

"Huh?" Dean blinked down at the card.

"Sleep," Caleb repeated. "You need it."

"I'm not through here," Sam stated belligerently. There was no way he wanted his brother back in that ring with the seeds from Eden.

"I'll be your whipping boy," Caleb quipped, shoving Dean in the direction of the door.

Sam did not see the humor. Scowling, he hissed, "Don't talk to me like I'm throwing a tantrum here!"

Caleb whirled around. "Aren't you?"

Sam felt his face grow hot and his rage bubbled. "No, I'm not," he growled.

"Sam…"

"Dean, out," Caleb ordered.

Dean's eyes narrowed, but he didn't snap back. They were all tired and their nerves were stretched taunt.

Caleb sighed and made a supreme effort to hang onto his temper. Though he'd tried to talk Dean out of going back into the protection circle to open the box, he could readily admit that neither he nor Sam could do it themselves. And he certainly wasn't going to let JT, James, Max or Ryker do the deed. If Joshua said he needed the seeds for the spell, then he needed the seeds and that was all there was to it. "This is difficult for us to accept, so you're just going to have to deal with the bad tempers. Sam and I will talk. You get some sleep."

Dean's jaw clenched as he held onto his own temper. Did Caleb think he wanted to go back into that damned circle? He would do what was needed to get the job done, and that was all there was to it.

I know.

Dean looked up and met Caleb's eyes.

You already went through this with me. Let me deal with Sam.

Letting the anger drain away, Dean gave a sharp nod and walked out of the room.

Turning to Sam, Caleb held up a hand to forestall the rage that still sat on the other man's face. "I know you don't want him doing this. We both know what he went through," he said. "But Josh said he needed some seeds to aim the spell back to Eden. Why can't the Tree be enough?" he went on, anticipating all Sam's questions because he'd asked them himself. "Because the Tree is the object of the spell, so apparently it can't direct itself in that circumstance. Why not use leaves from the Tree? Because we won't be able to get close enough to get them, and if we could, Josh doesn't think the leaves will stay away from the Tree long enough to be of any use in the spell. Why can't you or I do it? Because we couldn't even get close to Lassiter without our senses going haywire. Who else can do it? No one."

Sam's hands clenched. He recognized the truth in everything Caleb had said, but he felt like his anger and frustration over the situation had no place to go, and that was just as frustrating as the situation.

Caleb smiled in sympathy. "Been there; I get it."

Needing a moment, Sam gave the Knight a grudging nod and walked out the door just as JT, James and Max were coming down the hallway, their arms loaded down with potion ingredients.

"Hold the door!" James cried out, picking up his pace as he approached. Smiling at Sam, he went into the suite followed by Max.

JT, however, frowned at his uncle. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sam said. "I'm fine." Then gave himself a mental head slap for having used one of his most hated phrases.

"Yeah, that doesn't fly with me either," JT stated. "Need a walk?"

Sam nodded. "I'll be back in a bit."

"I'll go with," JT said. Stepping inside the suite, he handed off his box of ingredients as well as the potion bags piled on top to Max, then returned to the hallway. Not giving Sam a chance to object, he merely called over his shoulder, "You coming?" and walked down to the elevator.

Sam growled inside and muttered, "Uppity nephews." Having no choice but to follow, he walked down the hall to the elevator.

When the pair had stepped outside the front entrance to the hotel, Sam immediately walked off to the side and was soon striding down the dirt road that ran behind the Holiday Inn Express. Setting an aggressive pace, he nevertheless refrained from moving in too forced a fashion. He couldn't be mad at JT, not ever. However, he had needed to be alone, and JT's presence was intrusive. But he'd learned a very long time ago that one didn't always get what they want when they wanted it. Fate often intervened to give people what they needed.

JT didn't speak or remark on the pace. He simply walked a little behind his uncle, merely being there and watching the current Brotherhood Scholar's back. When Sam slowed, he did as well.

Not turning, Sam sighed. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need," JT said softly.

Sam shifted slowly around to face his nephew, his eyes sad. "Your dad is going to do something I don't want him to do."

JT watched his uncle for a moment, then asked, "Is there any other choice?"

Sam's shoulders slumped. "Not really." He resumed his walked, this time at a more moderate pace with JT at his side. "I just get tired of Dean always getting the crap end of the stick."

JT nodded. He hated that his dad seemed to get the dirty jobs. But then, he thought most of the jobs in the Brotherhood were dirty jobs. It was something he'd had to accept years ago when he discovered he was destined to be the next Guardian. The Brotherhood wasn't a job; it was a calling whose answer needed to be made with a resounding yes, or the life would be untenable.

He'd always known what his father did, Dean had insisted on telling first him, then James when they were old enough to understand. In those early days, he'd viewed the life of a hunter as the glamorous, heroic life of a musketeer. And indeed, those in the Brotherhood were heroes of the unsung variety. It wasn't until he was older that he saw all the wounds, the broken bones, the tired eyes, the long drives, the night's away, the toll his father being gone had on his mother. His journey to being in line for the Guardian had been made through years of training, low-level hunts, onto more strategic hunts and tougher trials, through doubts and pain. Then, after Sydney's death, he'd made the decision and chosen this life. He would make the sacrifices, though he knew they would never be easy, just as his father did. Sometimes the human spirit just couldn't help but rail against the inevitable every now and again.

Eyeing his uncle, JT remarked adroitly, "I'm sorry you feel you don't get enough of the dirty jobs."

Sam glanced over at his nephew and couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up inside. JT often knew the exact right thing to say. A trait he shared with his father. And yes, he would rather it was he who stepped into the protection circle and opened the box. It was one dirty job he would have taken on gladly. "Yeah." Stopping, he stood with his hands on his hips, letting his breathing even out. "I suppose we should head back."

JT smiled. "Think there are other dirty jobs we can do?"

"Shut up," Sam grumbled good-naturedly, shoving his nephew back down the dirt road. "We've got a lot of potion and spell bags to make."

"I think Max and James are going to be annoyed we walked out on them."

"I'm sure they're busy eating our lunch," Sam remarked.

"Seriously? Damn."

Sam picked up the pace. "Yeah. We better hurry or there'll be nothing left."

"Naw. Max will save me some."

"You sure?"

JT nodded. "And Dad and Uncle Caleb have your back. They'll make sure your food is safe."

"Yeah," Sam said, warmth going through his body. "Yeah, they will."

Dean dropped onto the bed in his and Sam's room. He hated it when Sam and Caleb put up a fight, especially when the outcome was going to be the same. Of course, he would have done the same, had done the same for decades in his attempts to protect Sam. Pot-kettle and all that. It was the curse and blessing of family, double-sided in all its glory.

Trying to relax, he couldn't help his mind going back to the last time he'd opened the box of seeds. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he tried to block out the whispering echoes of Alastair's voice. With a sigh, he flipped onto his side, pounded the pillow beneath his head and tried to make himself comfortable. Steadying his breathing, he thought in and out, in and out, forcing his mind back to Eden. Focusing on the peace, the sunlight, the trees, he continued to breath in and out until his tired body finally accepted sleep.

.

A piece of fruit appeared in his hand and Dean looked down, surprised. A smile spread like quicksilver across his face. Closing his eyes, he turned his face up towards the sun and sighed, letting the strength and peace of Eden wash through him. Somehow, instinctively, he knew he wouldn't be able to come back here in his dreams once the Tree was back in its proper place. Somehow the Tree being in their world had forge a bridge with Eden, one he was allowed to cross at the moment. He was resigned to this nirvana ending, but also determined to enjoy it for as long as fate allowed him access.

Stepping forward, he bit into the fruit. This one was a pale blue with white spots around the stem. It tasted like honey and blackberries and sent tingles of energy throughout his body. Like other fruit in Eden, this piece was also seedless, and he wondered from which tree it had fallen. He wouldn't mind enjoying another piece, and the instant the thought crossed his mind, another dropped into his hand. Looking up, he saw dozens of pale blue fruit hanging from a tree by which he was standing. "Thank you," he murmured, and ate the second piece.

Turning from the shade of the trees, he walked into the sunlit meadow. Carefully he lay down on the grass. It was a different feeling than grass he was used to. This grass felt warm and cushioned, and he sighed as his eyes closed.

"I think I love this too."

Immediately his eyes popped back open and he jerked upright. Sitting right beside him was Pastor Jim. "Jim! What are you doing here?"

Jim was looking around, his eyes wide and sparkling. "I believe I'm here because you're here, my boy." Face filled with delight and awe, he murmured, "Thank you for bringing me."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Jim said. "But I plan on enjoying it." Still grinning, he lay back on the thick, green grass. "This feels wondrous, like a mattress."

"I know," Dean exclaimed. Jumping to his feet, he jogged back to the tree, looked up and asked, "Can I have one more piece of fruit?" A third piece of pale blue fruit dropped into his hand and he raced back to the Pastor. "Here, give this a try."

Jim took the fruit and bit in. "Ummm," he hummed, savoring the taste. "This is wonderful. I think I will remember this for a very long time."

Dean laughed. "So, how come you're in dream Eden?"

"Oh," Pastor Jim murmured in surprise, setting aside the fruit. "I forgot why I was here."

Dean smiled. Yeah, Eden did that.

"I wanted to tell you that you will be fine when you re-open the boxes."

The smile slid from Dean's face.

"It took years of hard work and healing for you to conquer your time in hell. You have achieved so much: do not allow doubts to undermine all your work." Absently Jim picked back up the fruit and rose. Taking a bite, he started walking, forcing Dean to rise and follow. When he swallowed, he continued, "You are not defined by that one moment in time."

"By those forty years in time," Dean said softly.

Jim nodded slowly. "You chose a path that caused you untold trauma and pain, a path that cleaved into you scars that will remain throughout your life. However, you have the choice not to be ruled by those scars."

Dean felt stung. He didn't view being traumatized by an up close and personal recall of his time with Alastair as being ruled by hell. He'd spent a lot of years working hard to make up for the pain he'd caused in hell; a lot of years working to overcome those memories. Halting abruptly, he turned toward the tree line, his face set.

"Let these scars fade like those that mar your body and you will be free," Jim said. "The memories will not be able to hurt you any longer."

Shaking his head, Dean said, "How?"

Jim smiled. "Do you think just anyone could have brought me here?"

Dean's mouth dropped open in shock. "What?"

"I did not bring you here, my boy. You brought me. That's some powerful Guardian mojo you've got there. "

"I…"

Jim's smiled widened. "You brought me because you needed to talk. The Garden allowed me in because you needed it to be so."

"I don't understand."

"Guardians have the ability to meet on the astral plane. I don't think I ever read of a living Guardian bringing a former Guardian anywhere. But if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that because you are fighting to restore the Garden, the Garden is trying to help you accomplish that task. You needed to speak with me, so the Garden allowed it to happen."

Dean looked around at the magnificent trees, the animals grazing and sleeping in the shade, the breeze ruffling the leaves and the fruit gently swaying on the vine. Shaking his head, he asked, "Eden is letting me in?"

"And by extension, me as well," Pastor Jim stated. Stepping forward, he looked up at the golden fruit hanging from a nearby tree. "I wonder what these taste like." At his words, a piece of fruit dropped into his hands. Grinning, he glanced over at Dean and said, "Too bad my apple trees weren't always so obliging. I could have saved many an hour climbing up and down ladders." Taking a bite, he savored the tangy flavor.

Curious, Dean asked, "What does it taste like?"

"Like sugar on grapefruit," Jim said wonderingly.

Dean smiled as they continued their walk.

It seemed like a long time and only seconds before Jim said, "I'm must leave now."

"What?" Dean exclaimed, startled.

"I was gifted this wonderful experience to talk to you, but now my time is up." Jim smiled. "You, Sam, Caleb and Joshua; you're doing an outstanding job. I could not have hoped for more. Things are going to get interesting very soon."

Dean rolled his eyes at the twinkle in the Pastor's eyes. "You always know more than you're saying, don't you?"

"Of course, my boy. That's part of the fun."

Jim's voice faded on the word fun, as he disappeared. Sighing, Dean looked around. Suddenly the Garden seemed lonely. He was usually the one waking up, not that other way around. With a sigh, he walked to the next tree and dropped down. He wondered how he could accept his scars and let them fade. He had thought they were faded, mostly. It was touching the seeds that had brought it all back.

Turning his mind away from those thoughts, he shifted and lay back on the carpeted grass, closing his eyes. The breeze caressed his face and soon, that soothing peace crept over his body and his muscles began to relax. Something dropped beside him and he opened lazy eyes to see a piece of fruit, ruby red this time. Picking it up, Dean took a bite and immediately felt regret and sorrow flood his mind. His breath caught in his throat as the sorrow moistened his eyes. Then, just as quickly, a wash of gentle understanding chased the sorrow away. Emotions clogged his throat as forgiveness flooded his soul. The sense was so profound, he couldn't take another bite of the glowing red fruit. Setting the ruby orb aside, he curled onto his side and fell asleep.

Joshua ran fingers through his hair as he read through the complex spell he'd written. He had been a crafter for so many years, that coming up against circumstances that strained his knowledge and expertise were rare. This was definitely one. He glanced at Ryker over his shoulder. The younger man was measuring out the Litio and slowly pouring it into his mixture while murmuring and stirring counter-clockwise. When he had finished, Joshua stood.

"Are you all right for me to step into the hall a moment?"

Ryker picked up a bathroom hand towel and wiped it over his face. "Yeah," he said, leaning back in the chair. "I need a moment as well."

Nodding, Joshua walked across the floor and let himself out into the hall. There he paced up and down, trying to drain the tension from his muscles. The theory was sound, but he'd never done anything like this before; no one in Brotherhood history had done something like this before. How he wished he could speak with his mother. Even Mac, or Missouri, though his relationship with the latter had grown much colder after her father's perfidy. Ben Mosley had kept valuable Advisor information away from a Triad that was going through the very Apocalypse. It was unforgivable and a betrayal of the Brotherhood whom he had sworn to serve. And that Missouri had supported her father's decision was an equal betrayal of Pastor Jim, John, and his step-father, Mac. But at this point, he wanted to talk with anyone so badly, even Missouri would be a welcome sounding board.

With a sigh, he leaned against the wall, his gaze going back to his room. In truth, he could talk to Ryker. The Advisor-to-be was an expert potion maker and an accomplished spell caster. However, as Ryker's mentor, there was a boundary there that he couldn't cross at this time. They were not colleagues; they were teacher and student. What he needed was his mentor, someone with whom he could talk out the complexities of this spell, who could tell him he was on the right path. Suddenly he pulled his cell from his pocket. There was one person that he could talk to, bare his soul and voice his fears. Hitting speed dial, he smiled when a welcome voice answered.

"You okay?" Caleb asked.

"Yeah," Joshua said, closing his eyes. "I need a moment. Can you come down to my room?"

"I'll be there in a second."

Joshua closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket. He could already feel the tension easing from his shoulders. No, Caleb didn't know potions or spell casting, but at the moment that didn't matter. He just needed to bounce his thoughts against a strong surface, and Caleb provided that.

The doorway to the stairs banged open and Caleb stalked out. After looking both ways, he jogged down the hall to where Joshua stood. Giving the other man an assessing look, he asked, "What's up?"

Joshua smiled. The question was so Caleb, it was steadying in its own way. "I just needed a moment away from spells, potions and ingredients."

"A moment of sanity, huh?" Caleb quipped.

"A moment," Joshua repeated.

Caleb merely nodded and leaned against the wall, waiting.

Joshua paced a bit before saying, "This is complicated magic."

Watching, Caleb merely nodded.

"I've never done anything like this before."

"Not even with Malachi Harris?" Caleb asked.

"No, not really. I mean, there were a lot of spells in the Vangelo that were dark magic, but most of those I don't remember."

Caleb pushed off the wall, his expression concerned. "Are you doing dark magic, magic from the Vangelo?"

"No," Joshua said, then frowned. The spell he'd written definitely pushed the boundaries of magic, but it didn't feel dark or evil. "When Sam came back from the future, he destroyed the Vangelo. I'd barely gone through much of the book at that time, and most of what I did read I don't really remember, it was so long ago."

"Are you sure?" Caleb asked. "We can send that Tree back to Eden some other way."

"You don't even know the way I'm planning on sending it," Joshua said with a smile.

Caleb shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You'll come up something else. I've have every confidence."

Joshua felt his anxiety melt away. Maybe that was what he needed to hear. He used to hear those words from his mother, from Pastor Jim, from Mac. Now they were coming from Caleb, and they held all the comfort and encouragement as if they were said by those of the past. "No, the spell I created isn't dark. But it's stronger than anything I've ever written. It's complicated and dangerous in its own right." Looking Caleb in the eye, he said, "I'm…" he let the intent of his words hang without voicing them.

Caleb stepped away from the wall. "You are the best crafter I've ever seen. Brunhilda wanted you in her coven so badly, she poisoned me to make it happen."

Joshua rolled his eyes at Caleb's never-ending dramatics regarding his unfortunate run-in with Agatha Hennings years before. "Nadine didn't poison you, Agatha did, against the wishes of the coven."

"Didn't stop Artemisia from taking advantage of the situation now, did it?"

"Her name is Nadine," Joshua repeated.

"And she practically conscripted you! Impressment," Caleb stated, jabbing a finger in Joshua's direction. "She impressed you like they did in the British Royal Navy, like it was the sixteenth century!"

Joshua hid his smile. Caleb would never absolve Nadine nor the coven of forcing him to become a member by holding the antidote for the poison used on Caleb over their heads. That the situation had ended up being a benefit to Joshua in the long run wasn't enough to earn Caleb's forgiveness.

"She acted like Queen Boudicca, but with a vision to enhancing her own power rather than saving her people," Caleb grumbled. The added, "Although, Boudicca was said to have been as brutal as any man."

"What is it with you and ancient female matriarchs?"

Caleb gave a small shrug. "Onida was curious, so we've been looking into historical female warriors."

Intrigued, Joshua asked, "How many have you read about?"

"History was written by men, so there's not that many listed. But so far we've found ten," Caleb admitted. "But forget about that. What about this spell? Is it safe?"

"It's safe, but very complicated."

Caleb could feel Joshua's unease and fear. "There is no one in the coven, no one in the Brotherhood, past or present, who is a better crafter than you. Not only do you have the knowledge and instincts to write a spell this complicated, you have the strength, ability and cunning to pull it off. There is no one I would trust in this situation more. Trust your intuition, trust your abilities." He stepped forward and got right up in Joshua's face. "I trust you."

Joshua blew out a breath and nodded. "Thank you." Waiting only a beat, he said, "Now, I've got to go over the spell once more, then practice with Ryker."

"You need Ryker?"

"This will be a two man show," Joshua said. Smiling, he started back down hallway to his room. "You're going to get quite the light show tonight."

Once Joshua had disappeared into his room, Caleb looked upward and murmured, "God? Castiel? Dad…? Please watch over Josh and Ryker tonight." Blowing out a pensive breath, he walked down the hall to the hotel stairwell, and raced up the stairs to his suite.

Elijah walked back to the SUV from his visit inside the small service station where he'd paid for their gas. Purposefully, Ethan hadn't filled their gas tank upon leaving Hastings Nebraska so they could fill it in Lebanon.

"Not much inside there," Elijah said, leaning into the passenger's side of the vehicle, casually watching Ethan clean the front window with an aged squeegee that looked more like it would fall apart than remove any dirt from the windshield. "We'll need to get some food in town."

Ethan glanced over his brother's shoulder to see three men inside, all standing at the window, watching them. Frowning, he let his hand drop in apparent confusion. The men turned and moved away. After a moment, he gave a shrug and finished off the front window. He aimed and tossed the squeegee toward the water bin and missed.

Elijah grinned. "Good aim, big brother." Shaking his head and grinning, he opened the passenger door.

Ethan flipped him off and moved lazily to pick up the squeegee.

"Manners," Elijah teased, climbing inside and slamming the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan grumbled. Leaning over, he gripped the spell bag in his hand and slid it between the pumps as he picked up the wooden handle. Holding it aloft for his brother to see, he placed it elaborately in the water bin.

Laughing, Elijah shook his head. "Come on!" he shouted. "Let's get going. I'm starving!"

Ethan opened the door and climbed inside. "You're wish is my command." Starting the engine, he put the car in gear and pulled out of the station. As he did so, he saw a woman staring out the front window of her modest little rural home across the street. Frowning, he waved and she let the curtain dropped. "This place is weird," he commented. "Is there anywhere else we can get something to eat?"

Elijah, who was also frowning in the direction of the house, pulled out his cell. "Damn it, no Internet connection."

"Seriously?" Ethan exclaimed. "This is the twenty-first century. Everywhere has cell capability."

"Not here," Elijah stated. Sighing, he put his cell back in his pocket. "Let's just get something to eat and move on."

"Yeah," Ethan said, waiting for a truck to go past before he pulled back out onto US 281. "Okay, since we don't have an Internet connection, where is the market?"

"On Main Street," Elijah said. "Up … here, turn left on Grove."

Ethan made a slow left turn, driving just under the speed limit. "Seems pretty deserted."

"It's a small town," Elijah said, shrugging. They drove past two small streets. "Here; turn right."

Ethan did, and saw a woman standing on the corner. He waited for her to cross the street, and when she didn't move, he rolled down his window and called out, "Go ahead, Ma'am."

Giving him a glare, the woman stepped into the sidewalk and stomped across the street.

"You're welcome," Ethan muttered as he turned onto Main.

"Stop!"

Ethan pulled quickly to the side of the road and slammed on the breaks. "What the hell!?"

"A church!"

Ethan looked across the narrow street to the tiny brick church with red, orange and golden paned windows. "So?"

"I just want to go in a moment," Elijah said, creaking open his door.

Ethan frowned. "In there? How do you know it's open?"

"I'll check. I just … just let me check."

Sighing, Ethan nodded. "All right. Go on."

Looking both ways to check for the nonexistent traffic, Elijah jogged across the street. Ethan watched as he checked the door on the north side of the building, then went around and climbed the steps to the second door. Finding it locked as well, he leapt over the side of the stairs and almost tripped before disappearing around the back. Shaking his head, Ethan rolled his eyes. Then, with the instincts of a hunter and a cop, he felt the approach from behind, and the hairs along his neck and arms stood up. Thus when someone finally spoke, he gave a very convincing start of surprise.

"Is everything all right?"

Ethan jerked around to see a man staring in the open window of the passenger's door. "Dude!" he exclaimed. "You could have given me a heart attack!"

"My apologies," the man said. He was dressed in a somber suit, worn with age. A narrow tie fit around his neck and his hair was slicked back with gel.

"You the pastor?"

The man nodded.

"My brother…" Ethan waved a hand in the direction of the church. "Something we talked about earlier brought back the memory of a loved one who passed, and he wanted to take a moment to pay his respects."

The man looked concerned, and his eyes went to the building across the street just as Elijah trudged around the corner, his shoulders slumped. "Let me see if I can help." Quickly he crossed the street and approached Elijah. Ethan watched his brother listen to the pastor, his head hung low a bit. After a moment, the pastor bowed his head. The two men stood together until a minute later Elijah raised his head. Smiling, he said something and jogged slowly back across the street.

"All right," Elijah said, climbing back into the SUV. "Let's get something to eat."

"You good?"

"Yeah."

Giving a wave to the pastor, who had remained near his church, Ethan pulled the SUV back onto the street. They drove another couple of blocks, noticing that foot traffic had increased and there were more cars on the road as they drew closer to the center of town. Ethan pulled into a parking spot in front of Ladow's Market and both men climbed out of the SUV.

Nodding to a woman who was coming out of the store as he passed her by, Ethan ignored the small squeal she gave when she saw him. Standing inside, he felt as though his head was being squeezed slightly, like he had a bad head cold. Giving his head a shake, he glanced down some aisles until he saw cold medicine and aspirin.

"What are you doing?" Elijah asked.

"Feel like I'm getting a cold," Ethan stated, rubbing at his forehead. He picked up a bottle of sinus medicine, making sure his blocks were titanium, then said, "You want to pick up something here?"

"I'd rather go to the bathroom," Elijah said, looking toward the back of the store.

"All right, you use the bathroom and I'll see if we can get something hot." Ethan glanced around the store. "Nothing here is all that appealing." Turing, he walked up to the counter where a man with wiry gray hair was ringing up items for a young woman with black hair and tattered jeans. Waiting, he looked around in a bored fashion.

"Can I help you?"

Ethan turned back to see the man behind the counter watching him. "You got hot food in here?"

"Hot when you heat it up," the man replied dryly.

"Funny," Ethan remarked. Sighing, he looked around. He supposed they could get some lunch meat, bread, lettuce and mayo.

Elijah walked up the side aisle, frowning. "You don't have a bathroom?"

The man shook his head.

"Really?"

"We don't get many strangers in here. Most folks have a home."

Elijah glared. "Not helpful."

"You can go out back," the man stated.

"In an alley? Seriously?"

The man shrugged. "It's pretty secluded. Dogs and cats don't object."

Ethan laughed.

"Isn't there another gas station around here?" asked Elijah, walking to the front of the small store and glancing out the windows.

"Not with a working toilet."

Ethan eyed Elijah. "Might as well. Then we can get to Medford without stopping."

Elijah looked disgusted, but stomped out the front door anyway.

Giving the man behind the counter an eye roll, Ethan walked back to the aisles and began picking up bread, mayo and mustard, then went for the packaged meats, picking out turkey. He then grabbed a package of plastic utensils and a small pack of napkins. Moving to the large coolers, he sidestepped a man in overalls and opened the door, pulling out two bottles of water. As he was walking to the front counter, Elijah came back inside the store. Ethan set the things down and pulled his wallet from his pocket.

Elijah surveyed the food. "Nothing hot?"

"Not here," Ethan murmured, pulling cash from his wallet.

Elijah sighed and wandered away to stare out the front windows.

The man behind the counter eyed Elijah as he worked. Finally he said, "Twenty-one dollars and thirty-two cents."

Ethan handed over twenty-five dollars and waited for his change.

"There's a diner around the corner," the man said suddenly.

Ethan, shoving his change back in his pocket. "What?"

"A diner," the man said. He looked like he was sorry he'd mentioned it at all.

"Thanks," Ethan said, picking up the brown bag and walking to the door.

Outside, Elijah said, "You think there's any place to get something hot?"

"A diner around the corner." Ethan was feeling the stress of their task. The challenge of staying with their story, giving nothing away, and keeping his blocks in place was tasking. He wanted this done, but wanted it done right. Sighing, he said, "Let's check it out; see if they got something to go." He opened the door to the SUV and shoved the bag into the backseat. "Then we're getting out of dodge. I want to be in Medford before nightfall."

"Then let's hit it." Elijah climbed into the car. As they started down the road, he said, "Up here on the right."

Ethan turned the corner and immediately saw a small diner up ahead. It was practically the only place on the block with any cars parked outside. The place was squished wall to wall with the other buildings on that side. Turning to Elijah, he said, "I'm going to stretch my legs if you want to get us a couple of sandwiches."

Elijah nodded. Hopping from the car, he walked across the street and stepped inside.

It was just like a scene in one of those old western movies, where the protagonist steps into the saloon and everyone goes silent, all eyes turning to stare at the proverbial fly pinned in the doorway. Nodding once, Elijah walked over to a long counter and sat on the stool. No one approached him for a record length of time. Just as he was about to get to his feet again, a middle-aged woman walked up.

"What can I get you?" she asked brusquely.

Smiling, Elijah asked, "You do to-go orders?"

That the woman looked relieved was an understatement. "We have a few sandwich selections that we package up for to-go orders." She opened a menu and pointed to a short list of offerings. "Truckers go through here a lot, so we keep these on the menu."

"Excellent," Elijah said. He was reading through the offerings when he felt a tickle on his neck. Quickly, he jerked around to see an old man standing directly behind him. Leaning into the counter slightly to get a bit of space between them, he said, "You need something, Sir?"

"Leave this town," the man hissed.

Elijah's brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

The woman behind the counter said, "He's just getting some food to go, Mr. Arnold. He'll be leaving shortly."

Elijah glanced back at the woman and frowned. "It's illegal to stay in…" his eyes drifted around slightly, obviously looking for a name of the township before saying, "this town?"

"No, Sir," the girl said, a strained smile on her face. "That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it, Mr. Arnold?"

"You don't belong here," the man growled.

"And I don't plan on living here," Elijah stated. "As the waitress said, I'm just picking up some sandwiches."

"Leave, while you can."

Elijah stood. "What is your problem?"

"You think you can remain hidden from the Watcher? You think you can drive through here and watch our town?"

Looking confused, Elijah sputtered, "Your sandwiches are a secret?"

"No, they're not," said the woman behind the counter. She had scurried into the kitchen while Elijah and the man called Mr. Arnold were speaking, and now returned with two wrapped sandwiches. Handing them across the counter, she said, "I apologize for Mr. Arnold. These are on the house."

Frowning, Elijah shook his head. "No, I couldn't possibly…"

"Please," the woman said, her voice rising slightly in panic.

Elijah glanced at the belligerent man, then back at the waitress. Finally he nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality..." Walking quickly, he was out the door and across the street just as Ethan was getting back to the car after his walk. "Let's go."

Ethan's brows rose, but he immediately climbed into the cab. Starting the engine, he glanced over his shoulder and saw two men and three women standing on the sidewalk outside the café. Surprise had his jaw dropping. "What happened?"

"Let's go," Elijah said again, feeling that same tickle on his neck.

There was no traffic on the road, so Ethan pulled out onto Main Street and started down the road. All along the sidewalks, people stood there staring at them as they passed. Leaning forward, he goggled through the front window. "It's like a John Carpenter film," he muttered.

"Turn here," Elijah said.

Ethan didn't ask again, just turned right onto South Railway Avenue. There were more people standing on the corner. He wanted to stop and ask what was up, but decided against it. When they got to US 281, he turned south and they went three miles before he slowed. He looked over at his brother, whose face was a pale, wan white. Their eyes met.

Elijah nodded. Closing his eyes, he swallowed several times, allowing saliva to pool into his mouth.

Ethan slowed down and parked on the side of the road. Elijah jumped from the SUV, a hand to his stomach and raced for the sparse tree line. When he got there, he dropped to his knees and threw up. As he did, he slid one of the last two spell pouches from his pocket and placed it on the ground under a scrub brush bush. Finally he wiped his mouth and got to his feet. He could still feel that tickle on his neck as he stumbled back to the SUV and climbed inside.

"Let's get away from here," Elijah demanded.

Ethan put his foot down on the gas and sped away, trying to put as much quick distance between them and the town of Lebanon as possible. Following Elijah's gold star performance in regaling his brother with the details of the crazy people inhabiting the town, neither spoke again for at least thirty minutes. It was more than forty-five before they relaxed. An hour before Ethan felt like he could breathe again. A quick glance at his brother told him the other man was still feeling the strain of their encounter with Lebanon. Hell, he was too. A short time later he saw a Pilot service station right off the highway. Flipping on his blinker, he took the off ramp and pulled into the parking lot.

Elijah climbed from the car, his throat raw and his nerves stretched tight. Hands on his hips, he paced around the SUV, breathing deeply and trying to calm his nerves. Rarely had he or Ethan done something so constrained and nerve-wracking as going through Lebanon. Ethan gave his brother a pat on the back and jogged into the service store. He returned ten minutes later with two large cups of coffee, two bottles of water and a can of ginger ale. "Here," he said, handing the ginger ale to his brother.

Elijah took the can and popped the tab. Taking a couple of sips, he nodded his thanks. "We far enough?" he asked obliquely.

Ethan stretched his shoulders and back, keeping his mind blank as he used his instincts to measure whether the tension he was feeling was from stress or a spell. Walking to the SUV, he glanced in at the odometer: they were seventy-two miles outside of Lebanon. It was further south than they had planned on going before turning east. But tension, unease and anxiety had worked on their nerves and pushed them southward. But seventy-two miles was well outside the spell circle Joshua had predicted. If they weren't safe now, then neither were the others. Turning to his brother, he pulled back his shirt, showing the entwined protection pouches around his neck.

Elijah mimicked his action, showing the protections still wound around his neck.

Nodding, Ethan leaned into the SUV and said, "We're as safe as we're ever going to be."

Elijah nodded and asked the question he'd been forcing out of his mind for the last hour. "The man inside the diner said something about a Watcher. Who's the Watcher?"

"Haven't the vaguest. But that was like Deliverance or something," Ethan said with a shiver. "Never felt anything like it."

"It felt like the spells were crawling across my skin."

Ethan gave another shiver, knowing exactly what his brother was talking about. "Could you tell if anyone was lying or what they were lying about?"

Thinking back, Elijah said, "The pastor was afraid for his congregation. Several are missing. He's met Piruz and doesn't like him, but he isn't going to make waves. He's too afraid for his church members."

Ethan nodded. "You didn't talk to the market owner much. Did you get anything from him?"

"No. He's irascible, wanted us out of the way, but I couldn't get anything else. But in the diner; the woman behind the counter was scared. She was hiding something, but it wasn't about the town. She's afraid for her family. Her daughter is being held." He thought back again. "It was the man who broadcast the loudest. Someone is pulling his strings. It's like he's under a spell and someone was talking through him."

"Could you tell who?"

"It was a woman, that much I got," Elijah said, his eyes slightly unfocused in memory. "He knows her. She was working a spell nearby. I figure the Community Center next door, but I couldn't see who she was or sense whether she was under a spell as well."

"Could she have been the coven leader?"

"Maybe. Did Joshua or Adam say whether the coven leader was a woman or not?"

Ethan frowned. "If they did, I don't remember." Straightening, he said, "We're further south than our plan. Get on your cell, see if you can find a route east where we can pick up Interstates 35 or 135 North."

"And you?" Elijah sighed, pulling his cell from his pocket.

"I'm calling Caleb."

She sat in the small room at the Lebanon community center, eyes closed, hands moving slowly over a pewter bowl. Something had been off about the strangers in town today, but she hadn't sensed anything unusual. It was instinct that heralded the warning, not magic. She had one of her people confront one of the men in the diner, hoping to learn something. But the man's reaction was genuine and surprised. He'd even been spooked by the encounter, as heralded by he and his brother's quick exit from town. Following their departure from Lebanon, she had scanned the entire township and its surrounding lands, but had come up with no magical interference or influences. They were as they appeared to be: two men heading to Medford.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," the woman replied. "They are as they appear."

The man standing beside her bowed. "Then I will check on the others, make sure they are still watching the roads coming in and out of town."

"Have everyone on their guard. He is back. The time draws near."

The man closed his eyes in deference and nodded. Turning, he left the meeting room and walked down the shabby hallway. Paint was warped and peeling, the carpet on the floor shabby and worn in spots. Though he knew the Community Center was less than forty years old, it looked and felt as old as the town, which had been established in its current location in 1888.

Stopping in the small lobby, he wiped the sweat from his brow with nervous fingers. Moving to the door, he stared outside into the street, his pitch black hair, wide cheekbones and strong jaw reflected in the glass. Raising a hand, he touched an intricate cartouche at his neck, woven with gold, quartz and black tourmaline, and gave thanks to his great, great, great grandfather for all his wisdom, skill and protection. He hadn't been able to protect his people, hadn't been able to protect the town. Maybe the two strangers could.

"Le máako' k protégé," he murmured, and walked out the double doors into the sunlight. (May the Lord protect us.)

.

TBC