The Guard Changed at Dawn

Chapter 4

Caleb stifled a long yawn. After an amazing breakfast of sweet ricotta pancakes, scrambled eggs cacao e pepe and, in a nod to Caleb's childhood at his grandmother's in Louisiana, beignets, the team gathered to work in the Tomb with cups of Max's delicious coffee. But for the Knight of the Brotherhood, the wonderful food and a sleepless night were combining to make the research difficult. He didn't mind research. As a man of action, it wasn't his favorite activity, but he did derive some enjoyment from sleuthing through data to find an answer to a difficult hunt. Trouble was, in this instance they were sorting through reams of data with no idea where it was heading or how to apply it to this … whatever it was. He yawned again.

Dean eyed his friend. Caleb had been quiet and surly since he'd arrived that morning. It meant he hadn't slept well, and for Caleb, sleeping well was the key to a genial and cooperative knight. Glancing over at his son, he noticed JT was giving the older man the eye as well. Rising, he said, "I'm getting us more coffee."

Joshua looked up just as Caleb yawned again. "It would be welcome. Thank you."

"Damien, want to help?"

Caleb glanced over and nodded. "Sure."

In the kitchen, Dean reached into a cupboard and pulled out a box of the mini pastry pies Maggie from the Dinner Bell had baked.

Caleb saw the box. "Maggie's new mini pies? You holding out on me?"

Dean grinned. "Definitely. These are too good to share."

"But you're bringing them out now," Caleb pointed out petulantly.

"Desperate times, man." Dean put the box on the table. "You have a vision last night?"

Caleb eyed Dean a moment before he sighed and dropped into a kitchen chair. The pastries were for him. "No."

Dean put an empty plate on the table and waited. Normally he wouldn't have bothered putting the pastries onto a plate; he would have just eaten them straight from the box. But he wanted to give Caleb time to collect himself.

"No, it wasn't a vision." Caleb raked restless fingers through his thick, gray hair. He watched Dean pop open the pastry box and put a couple mini pies on the empty plate. "I don't know what it was."

Dean merely nodded and waited.

Caleb watched his best friend. He hated not knowing the answers to what was happening, especially in the psychic realm. And he really hated feeling out of control. With a sigh, he said, "I dreamed of a field, a huge field. There was a forest in the distance. Things were moving in the field, like tentacles coming up from the ground like they were reaching out for someone."

"You? Us?" Dean asked, pouring himself a cup of Max's excellent coffee.

Caleb shook his head. "No, I didn't get the feeling the tentacles were reaching for us. But they wanted someone."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know, exactly. I just felt it." Caleb thought for a moment. "I heard noises that could be flapping sounds, but I didn't see anything like birds' wings or owls, and I don't know if I thought they were flapping sounds because we're researching owls. There were just shadows of darkness moving across the field. Occasionally thick, really bright shafts of light pierced through the shadows and buried themselves in the ground or a tree. It looked as though the light was keeping the darkness from spreading beyond the field."

Dean thought over Caleb's dream. "Do you know where the field was?"

"Not really; just that it was here in the US and not somewhere else in the world."

"So we've got light keeping darkness from spreading. Did you get the feeling we would be fighting this darkness?"

Caleb thought back over the dream. "Not really. Something was already doing that. And this wasn't the first time I've had the dream."

Dean's mug halted on its way to his mouth. "You've had the dream before? How many times?"

"More than once; I don't know how many more." Caleb rose and paced the kitchen.

"How do you know it wasn't a vision?"

"It just wasn't. I've had more visions than I can count, and this wasn't one. In visions I'm usually playing a role, and they usually involve someone that we're going to save or need to save. I know what's going on and what I have to do. This was more like I was watching something play out."

Dean frowned. "But isn't that like a vision?"

Caleb made an impatient sound, though it wasn't directed at Dean, but at the helplessness he was feeling. "Yes and no. It's just … a vision is a direct line to whatever I'm supposed to fight. This is not a vision, it's like a dream you have after a hunt when you relive the fight but it's skewed; not what actually happened." Shaking his head, he growled in frustration. "It's different, more ambiguous. At first I wondered if this was the beginning of something new, but why would that start now, so close to the end of the road?"

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed.

Caleb shot him a smile. "Quit being so sensitive, princess. I've never had dreams like this before." Poking his chest, he said, "Death vision team, right? There's no reason I'd suddenly start dreaming evil after all these years."

"Maybe it's not you."

Dean and Caleb turned to see Ryker standing in the kitchen doorway.

The younger man shrugged. "The others wanted the coffee."

Caleb ignored the last comment and went for the first. "What do you mean, it's not me. I know what I dreamed."

Ryker nodded in that enigmatic way of his. "You were asleep. Sleep is when the body is most open to psychic intrusion."

"Most people, yeah. But I've got strong blocks against psychic poachers, even in sleep."

"Unless you didn't view the intruder as a threat."

Caleb blinked. "What?"

"You said it: you have visions, not dreams that could be interpreted as predictive."

"Fine line, it seems to me," Dean remarked. "I don't see the difference."

"We can look to a very ancient text for the difference," Ryker said.

"Which one?" Dean asked.

"The Bible." Ryker leaned against the stove. "A vision is where a person sees something either in their literal eyes or their mind's eye. Caleb has had visions when he's awake or when he's asleep. A vision is no respecter of conscious state. A dream only happens when you're asleep. Visions are much clearer, less ambiguous in meaning than dreams."

"Exactly," Caleb said.

"As to the question of whether you'd start having predictive dreams after so many years," Ryker shrugged. "It's possible, but not likely. So the most probable reason for the dream is that someone is reaching out to you, someone you don't view as a threat. They're trying to get your attention."

Frustrated with the entire situation, Caleb snapped, "But why me? Why not him?"

"Oh, thanks," Dean snorted.

"I imagine you were chosen because of your own psychic abilities. While not an open door by any means, you were someone this other person could trust with the contact."

That last sentence stopped Caleb. Someone was reaching out to him, someone his subconscious didn't view as a threat.

Ryker picked up the carafe of coffee and nabbed the box of pastries. Dean narrowed his eyes at the young man, but future Advisor merely smiled and headed for the door. "If this person makes contact again, maybe you should reach out. You might gain more information about the dream and the one sending it." He nodded to Dean and walked out.

"I'm going to need more mini pies," Dean grumbled under his breath.

There was silence in the kitchen for several minutes after Ryker had returned to the Tomb. Finally Caleb sat down at the table and said, "He'll be a good Advisor."

"Kind of cuts through to the heart of an issue, doesn't he?" Dean reached over and took a mini pie from the plate, thankful now he'd made the effort, and popped it in his mouth.

Caleb followed suit, munching on the sweet butter and cinnamon bite of apple goodness.

"Feeling tired?" Dean asked.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Not really, but I can give it a try. Is someone is reaching out, however, they may not do that during the day."

Dean pushed himself to his feet. "If the dreamer contacts you, then great. If not and you get a few hours of undisturbed sleep, that's good too."

Caleb sighed and watched as Dean walked out. What did he have to lose?

The darkened meadow stretched out before him, and Caleb suddenly knew he was in the dream. This time he was standing in the very middle of the meadow instead of at the edges, surrounded by darkness and shadows. Something kept swooping over his head, forcing him to duck and brush at his hair. In previous dreams he'd been standing at the edges of the meadow looking in. He'd never been in the midst of it before, and wondered if his own psychic abilities had helped get him here.

The forest in the distance was tall, dark and foreboding. He thought he could hear movement in the trees but couldn't see anything. There was a howling moan in the air and he covered his ears in pain. What was missing from this dream were the shards of light that had stabbed through the shadows before.

Forcing his heart to calm, he reached out into the darkness with his mind. Anyone there? The moaning in the wind increased and something swooped so close to him that he dropped to the ground and rolled to his left. His heart was beating wildly as he jerked to the right when something slithered along the ground by his side in the increasing darkness. Hello!

The shadows around him deepened. He felt something dark and inky black. Something wanted loose. He could feel the dankness and evil as though it were a tangible thing.

Suddenly a shaft of light pierced the darkness to his left and something darted away. A few more shafts of light split the air, moving here and there. Soon the moans subsided and the shadows appeared to be shifting back toward the forest. Caleb waited.

I need … help…

The voice was soft, almost in his ear. Caleb couldn't tell if it was male or female, but the pleading came across loud and clear. I can help. Where are you…?

Caleb waited, and was beginning to think whoever had spoken was gone when a flash of white appeared in front of him and he suddenly knew the place he needed to go was the Enchantment Lakes Basin, Wenatchee Mountains in Washington.

Hang on, he thought. Help is … Then he woke up.

Lying on his back, Caleb thought over the dream. It appeared as though Ryker was correct; the dream wasn't his, it was from someone else. This was a new experience. Not that he hadn't connected with psychic things before, like the enchantress when Sam and Dean were taken as kids, or the human sociopath when Dean had been kidnapped years ago. But his mainstay was visions, and those were something else.

A yawn forced its way up his throat and Caleb turned onto his side. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days. Mac had taught him long ago that if he was going to help anyone on a psychic level, he needed to be rested. He just hoped that whoever needed their help had heard him and would let him get some sleep. He was going to need it.

Dean poked his head into the downstairs bedroom and saw that Caleb was fast asleep. After watching the older hunter for a few minutes, he retreated and headed into the kitchen. Lunch was coming up, and he needed to check whether there was enough food for the hungry natives. JT, Max and Ryker could eat a horse, he and Caleb would have a sandwich and chips, and Joshua would have a salad and a cup of soup if one was available.

A cursory look into the fridge and the cupboards told him he needed to replenish the food stores. Nabbing his keys, he was headed for the front door when JT stopped him.

"Is Uncle Caleb all right?"

"Yeah. I don't think he's had much sleep the last few nights, with that dream popping up in his head. But he'll be fine."

"Need some company?"

Dean smiled. "Could use some help carrying the bags."

Once outside, both men climbed inside Dean's well-maintained Impala and headed to the store.

"We're going to work this hunt together, right?"

"Looks like. You're dream, Caleb's dream, Jody calls on the same day. Seems like it's all connected."

JT grinned. "Good."

Dean chuckled. Truth was, he loved hunting with JT. His son had inherited John Winchester's eidetic memory and no-nonsense approach to the job. After so many years of hunting with Sam and Caleb, Dean hadn't realized how much he'd missed the years of hunting with his father. Those first hunts with JT had been surprising and painful, as his son unconsciously mimicked several John-like mannerisms. He even tapped into John's brusque delivery of information, a probable derivative of his mother's dry sense of humor.

While JT may have been all business on a hunt, he was completely un-John-like after the hunt. First, his brusque manner would fall away like rain as he pulled his camera from his backpack. He'd start taking photographs to catalog whatever creature they were hunting so future generations of hunters could be trained. There was no John Winchester brooding, post-hunt; JT didn't pick at each and every incident to see how the hunt could have gone better. His perfectionist streak had him dissecting the action and maneuvers, but he and Dean would talk about the hunt with an eye to improving hunters' odds in winning their own battles. Dean loved the collaboration.

Hunting with James, on the other hand, aggravated him to no end. It reminded him of those early years of hunting with Sam, when Sam would question everything he did, everywhere they were going, whether the technique they were using to eliminate the threat was the best; questions, always questions. In those years he'd come up with several techniques to keep Sam occupied and engaged in learning to hunt, then later in hunting. In helping train James it quickly become clear that his reserves of patience, so endless in the years past, were not limitless.

James was bright, inquisitive and strong-willed, and Dean delighted in everything the young man did. But hunting? While he hunted with his youngest often, he turned much of James' training over to Caleb, who dealt with the young man's antics, questions and occasional insubordination with humor, strength, and wisdom. Where Dean's patience had waned through the years, Caleb's seemed to have grown. As though he were taking a page from Dean's old manual on dealing with Sam, Caleb would come up with reasons on why James should do something his way without resorting to the time-honored, Because I know best, or Because I said so. Dean marveled at his patience. Sam suggested it was because the Knight was like Peter Pan and had never grown up himself, but Dean knew better. To Caleb, working with JT and James was like being with a younger Dean and Sam all over again, and he loved it.

"Why did Pastor Jim contact me?" JT asked softly.

Dean glanced at his son before focusing once more on the road. He wasn't about to tell JT that Pastor Jim had spoken to him first because Dean wasn't listening. For all he knew, past Guardian's appeared to prospective Guardians just as much as with current Guardians. Pastor Jim had spoken to him. Yes, that had been after Jim had been killed and there was no new Guardian, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened before.

"There are many things Guardians need to know," Dean began slowly, "aspects of the position that are only for us." He paused briefly before continuing. "I had my first dream of Pastor Jim before I officially became the Guardian."

JT looked over. "You did?"

Dean nodded. "He told me Caleb was in danger. Caleb had been given a tip about a cult in Riverside, North Carolina. He'd gone to check it out and got poisoned. Sam, Josh and I were able to get to him in time because Jim warned me."

"I don't remember you telling that story before."

Dean shrugged slightly. He had omitted telling the future Triad certain aspects of his, Caleb's and Sam's bumpy journey toward becoming the Triad because he didn't want them to think other hunters might oppose them as they had his own leadership. But maybe it was time for him to be honest with JT, honest about how his Triad had been viewed, and about how JT's own Triad would be different.

"No," Dean said slowly. "I didn't tell you because the tip Caleb received about the cult was a ruse."

JT jerked and swung toward his father. "What?"

Suddenly Dean hesitated. Now that he'd begun, he couldn't help thinking that this wasn't the best time to rehash the past. But he'd stepped in it, hadn't he? He couldn't dangle the carrot just to pull it away again. Sighing, he said, "Before we became the Triad, there was a faction of the Brotherhood that didn't agree with Pastor Jim's choice of future leadership. They took actions to ensure the second proposed Triad would be chosen."

"Took actions," JT repeated slowly. "You mean they tried to replace you and Uncle Sam and Uncle Caleb?"

Dean smiled at the term replace. It was so much nicer than what had happened. "You could say they were … zealous in their belief that we shouldn't be the Triad; that the second proposed Triad should be the ones in our shoes."

JT was shocked. This information was new. Of course, he knew there was always a second proposed Triad. Elijah's son Lane, Ethan's son Gideon, and Silas's youngest son Morgan were the second Guardian, Knight and Scholar. The three had all grown up near one another in Texas in the traditional Triad manner. But once they were old enough to know about it, it had always been understood that he, Max and James were the future Triad. "There are a lot of stories you haven't told us," JT stated. "Stories about this faction of the Brotherhood."

Dean nodded. "This faction had long opposed our Triad. After your grandfather John and Pastor Jim were killed, they began doing more things that would put us in jeopardy."

"More things…" JT echoed. More, in that they'd done things before. There was much more about this that he wanted to know, more than he knew his father would be willing to share right now. "Like?"

Dean didn't want to get into the special children, those like Sam, who had been touched by the yellow-eyed demon. He didn't want to go into Sam's possession and the hunters who had been killed. At this time he wouldn't go into Griffin's continued sabotages nor Ian and Fisher turning traitor and endangering lives and the Brotherhood. Silas, who was a big part of the boys' lives, would be in those stories. No, those would be conversations for another time.

Instead, he said, "Like setting off a device that took down Sam and Caleb when they were psychically protecting themselves against a wraith. They were both in a coma for a few days. Like feeding a tip to a trusted source so that Caleb would investigate a fanatical religious organization thinking it was a cult. Like kidnapping me, Sam and Caleb when we were kids to try and overthrow Pastor Jim. Other things like that."

JT was speechless. This wasn't the Brotherhood he'd known all his life. The Brotherhood was made up of selfless people who fought evil so humanity could live in peace and safety. They would never kidnap or harm children.

Dean knew he'd shocked his son. It had probably been a mistake to fill his children's heads with knights and dragons their whole lives. But Pastor Jim's legacy of knights, dragons and nobility had been a solace for him, Sam and even Caleb when they were children. So they'd carried on the tradition. Caleb had drawn dragons for JT, Max and James when they were kids.

He pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store, shut down the engine but didn't make an immediate move to leave the vehicle. "In most ways those days are a lifetime ago. So many situations converged to make it a turbulent time for the Brotherhood. Julian, Maxim and Victor's Triad ended before they could adequately prepare the next Triad. Julian chose Jim as Guardian before he died, but I believe that was the only appointment he made. I don't know if Victor had a hand in choosing Daniel Elkins as Knight before he retired to Hawaii, but he basically left Jim to assemble the new Triad alone. Jim brought in Mackland after Mac showed he was psychic. When Daniel became unstable, Jim drafted my dad, your grandpa John. And so the Triad was Jim, Dad and Mac. But there were people who thought Pastor Jim shouldn't have been chosen Guardian in the first place, thought that Julian had made that choice in haste and his illness. You know he died of cancer, right?"

JT nodded.

"Since they considered Pastor Jim the wrong choice, then Mac and dad weren't the right choices for Scholar and Knight, and they tried very hard to subvert their authority."

JT had shifted in his seat and was facing his father, listening.

"Pastor Jim wanted to stabilize the Brotherhood for the next generation, so he began preparing us, though we didn't know it at the time. Jim felt when Caleb, then me and Sammy all came to him within such a short period of time, that God was intervening to show him the next Triad. But this faction didn't want us."

JT knew of many of the infamous hunts his father and uncles had been on in their youth, and knew they were legendary. "But, that doesn't make sense," he said. "The things you took on before you were even official is the stuff of legends!"

Dean felt a flood of warmth inside. One of the best things about being a parent was your kids thinking you were awesome. It beat all the other times they were embarrassed by your presence.

"It just doesn't make sense," JT repeated.

"It wasn't what we did," Dean said softly. "It's who we were."

JT frowned. "You mean not legacies."

"Not just that," Dean said.

JT nodded slowly. "You mean Uncle Caleb's grandfather being possessed by the yellow-eyed demon when his father was conceived."

Dean nodded. He knew he was walking on thin ice. He, Sam and Caleb hadn't formally discussed revealing to the boys their troublesome road to becoming the Triad. They hadn't discussed demon deals, his time in hell, nor Sam's being infected with demon blood as a baby. The boys knew about the battles with Lucifer and that Sam had been Lucifer's vessel, thus they also knew about his being Michael's. But the Triad hadn't gone into the trauma and danger of that time. Caleb had chosen to be open about his abilities and where they'd come from when all the boys were over eighteen and were taking more jobs with other hunters. He said those things had a way of coming out, and he didn't want to be in the field with the boys when some other hunter let the cat out of the bag. Sam, however, had chosen to remain silent about his dark past for the moment. He had never used his abilities to anywhere near their full potential again after Ruby. His reasons were complex, with a main one being he didn't think he was meant to have them, and he didn't believe he was fully capable of handling the power. He used his abilities when needed, and that was it.

Of course, the entirety of their past would be fully known once the new Triad took over. At that time Dean knew he would need to be candid about his deals with demons and his time in hell. Those were things JT needed to know to protect himself and his Triad. But now, he was leery of being too forthright with information Sam would view as very private.

"This faction thought your Uncle Sam's abilities might originate from the same source, like guilty by association," Dean said carefully, "and they used that suspicion to blacken us all. After we became the official Triad, those factions dwindled as many more hunters worked with us and saw that we were honorable men. We won them over through the years. Now, the Brotherhood is the strong body of hunters it was in the past, and all members work toward saving people and hunting evil."

JT didn't speak for a long time, just stared at the people entering and exiting the grocery store. Finally, he said, "I know there's a lot more to this than your saying. Maybe I'll know more someday when I read your journals, read Grandpa John's journals. But right now, I want to say thank you for all the work you, Uncle Sam and Uncle Caleb have done to make the Brotherhood what it is today."

Dean suddenly felt like he couldn't swallow past the lump in his throat. Growling a little and clearing his throat, he said, "Yeah, well, I gotta leave you more than a garage."

JT laughed and rolled his eyes.

They sat in silence for several more minutes, neither making a move to leave the car. Eventually Dean said, "We spoke on this once before, but I believe each generation of Triad is chosen for what the Brotherhood needs at the time. Years ago, my Triad was what was needed. The Brotherhood was in chaos, with factions vying for power. Since I was a child those factions worked to overthrow Pastor Jim's Triad and to prevent mine." Dean paused, marshalling his thoughts. "Uh, you know I'm probably not the most diplomatic Guardian there's ever been. I do what it takes to get the job done and don't make excuses for it. I don't care who I deal with to keep my family and the Brotherhood safe."

"Dad…" JT began, a frown on his face.

Dean shook his head, "No, I know what I am. I know I'm not the heroic leader people look up to and aspire to be. But I am what was needed to pull the Brotherhood back together. The Brotherhood needed a decisive leader who muscled, pushed and shoved everyone back together into a cohesive fighting unit. Caleb and Sam are the ones with all the ideals. Caleb is a Knight's knight. You know, he's descended from the legendary Sir Galahad on his mother's side. He truly believes in honor above all things. His super strong psychic abilities, his visions of those in danger, they were needed to keep us, to keep other hunters safe. Sam believes in good winning out, he believes in all the ideals the Brotherhood was meant to protect. His own psychic abilities – which are stronger than most Scholars – are what was needed."

Dean paused for a moment before finishing, "In my time, the Brotherhood needed a bulldozer. Now, they need Captain America. They need a Triad that embodies all the idealism and the nobility of the Brotherhood." Dean smiled at JT, pride in his eyes. "That's you."

JT didn't know what to say. His father was a hero. His inability to see that his own selflessness and nobility were exactly the reason hunters followed him and wanted to emulate him, made him loved. Those ideals are why he wanted to emulate his father; make him proud. His father's penchant for throwing himself into danger to protect any member of the Brotherhood had endeared him to every man and woman who hunted. Even if he hadn't saved them personally, they knew without one iota of a doubt that Dean would. They trusted him with their lives without hesitation.

JT had learned about Brotherhood history and knew about hunting "legacies" and how they'd often been put on pedestals in the past. Despite Grandpa John having been the Knight, Dean wasn't considered a legacy. But that didn't matter to his father. In his world there was no hierarchy of hunters. To Dean, all hunters were equal. All were welcome in his home, he helped anyone who asked for it, and over the years he'd become a legend.

But what his father had said about a Triad for the times was something JT also believed. Dean's Triad was needed in a time of upheaval, when the Brotherhood need his father's selfless heroism to be a shining beacon for the hunters to rally around; they needed Caleb's skill and idealism, and his knightly dedication to training, which was offered to all without judgment. They needed Sam, and his humble brilliance that helped set up a nationwide network of information that any hunter could access twenty-four-seven, and someone would be there to get them what they needed. Dean's Triad brought the Brotherhood back to greatness again, and his Triad would carry on and honor that legacy.

"Your right," JT said slowly. "The Brotherhood needs a beacon of heroism and light for the hunters to rally around during times of turmoil." He eyed his father. "You're that light. What they need from me and my Triad is to carry on all the ideals you, Uncle Caleb and Uncle Sam worked so hard to bring back to the Brotherhood. They need us to work just as hard to fight the good fight." Lifting his chin slightly, he finished, "You've trained me well. I'll be ready."

Dean's mouth dropped open and he felt his face go warm. He was blushing, damn it. He was too old for that crap.

JT took pity on his father and shoved open his door. "Are we going to get food or not? I don't want to face mom with a kitchen that's been torn apart by wolves in search of food."

Dean watched JT walk toward the store and finally pushed open his own door. Damn it, he hated when conversations didn't end up going his way.