The Guard Changed at Dawn

Chapter 10

Dean leaned against the doorjam of Bobby's old bedroom watching Caleb sleep. His friend's face was pale and every once in a while he winced as though in pain.

As soon as the protection circle had gone down, Caleb had stumbled into the master bathroom, slammed the door and thrown up. Dean ordered everyone from the room except Sam so Caleb wouldn't have an audience when he returned. When Caleb came out, he went straight to the bed and lay gingerly down.

Dean went over and knelt down so his friend didn't have to look up. "How are you feeling?"

Caleb swallowed thickly. He considered going for bravado, but he just couldn't work up the energy. "Bad," he murmured. Looking at Dean with heavy eyes, he said, "This is going to sound weird, but I really want Mac right now."

Dean smiled back, but his worry escalated. Caleb wanting Mac was the best indicator of exactly how bad he was feeling. But he understood. There were times, even to this day, when only the presence of his father could make things better. "Not weird at all," he said softly.

There was a touch on his shoulder, and Dean looked up to see Sam holding a mug. "Here," Sam said. "See if he can drink some. It's tea."

"Joshua's here?" Caleb murmured.

"Jody," Sam said.

Dean stood up suddenly. "Damian," he said. "Try to drink a bit of this tea. I'll be back in a minute." Turning, he said to Sam, "See if he'll take a sip of two."

Dean hurried out and jogged down the stairs. He looked in the library and the living room, and found Max in the kitchen. "Max…" he began.

"I'm way ahead of you, Uncle Dean," Max said. "I called dad as soon as the protection circle went down. I'm making his tea to settle Uncle Caleb's stomach and help with his headache right now."

Dean smiled. "Well done," he murmured, giving Max's neck a comforting squeeze.

Max gave his godfather a smile, then turned back to stirring. "Oh, he said he and Ryker will be in Sioux Falls tomorrow morning."

"Great." Dean jogged back up the stairs in time to hear a scrambling of feet. When he stepped into Bobby's room, the bed was empty and Sam's eyes were on the bathroom door.

"He's sick again?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

The bathroom door opened and Caleb stumbled out. Collapsing on the bed, he murmured, "I feel like hell."

"Tell me exactly what's going on," Dean demanded.

Caleb snorted and closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around his middle.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried glances

A minute later Max walked in the door carrying a hot mug. He hurried to the bed and said softly, "Drink a sip of this, Uncle Caleb."

Caleb gave a short shake of his head. He'd already gone that route with Sam's tea, and he wasn't doing it again.

"Its dad's tea," Max explained. "You know the one; the tea that helps your headache go away."

"Josh?" Caleb whispered, then winced.

"Yeah, Joshua," Max said. He held the cup to his uncle's lips. "Drink," he ordered.

Caleb lifted his head slightly and took a sip of the tea. Immediately he lay his head back down, but within seconds a bit of color began to seep back into his pale cheeks. Max smiled and urged his uncle to drink another sip. A short time later Caleb looked better and was asleep.

"Good job," Dean said to his godson.

Sam smiled and gave the younger man's shoulder a light squeeze before he walked out of Bobby's bedroom and headed downstairs.

Max sat back in the chair near the bed watching his uncle sleep. "I never wanted to do crafting, especially not in the field."

Dean sat on the edge of the bed facing Max. "Yeah, your father was the same way."

Max nodded. "I know; he told me. I just didn't understand until now. Crafting can make a difference for my team." Shaking his head. "I guess I just wanted to be like Uncle Caleb, but I'm not. He's an amazing Knight. How can I measure up?"

"You already have," Dean said. "Caleb is a Knight's Knight, with all the skills, heart and courage the job demands. His psychic abilities make him exactly right for the position, and he uses those skills to help others, to help us. Yes, you're different; your skills are different. But those skills are uniquely you and make you exactly right for the position. Learn from Caleb, absorb all he has to teach, but embrace your unique skill set. Use every tool in your arsenal for the good of the Brotherhood and to protect your Triad, and you will be the best Knight of the Brotherhood, just like your mentor."

Max smiled. "I will."

Dean nodded and stood. "You want to stay and keep an eye on him?"

Max nodded. "Yeah. If he can drink a bit more of this tea, he'll be feeling much better"

"I'll call you when lunch is ready."

Yakama Indian reservation, Washington

Onida pushed herself off the balcony floor, panting. She couldn't believe she'd nearly lost her help. Growling, she shouted, "What was he thinking?!"

Dropping into a nearby wicker chair, she reached for a glass of water and drank deeply. Exhausted, she rested her head against the high back of the chair and closed her eyes. She'd just been able to stave off an attack before he'd been captured. At least, she thought so. For a brief moment she could have sworn someone else was there and had given the witches a psychic shove before her piitl'iyawilá disappeared, but she couldn't be sure. She'd been in a panic.

But he was coming, she knew he was coming. This time when she felt him, he was so much closer then he'd been before.

The witches prowling the cage knew, and had grown more vicious. She was exhausted with working nearly twenty-four/seven to keep them contained. She needed sleep, she needed rest, she needed food. She hadn't been able to get groceries for over a month, and had eaten the last of her canned goods a week ago.

Shoving herself out of the chair, she reached for her phone. She needed to replenish her stores, but she couldn't afford to leave. She hit her speed dial and didn't even hear a full ring before he answered.

"Are you all right?"

Onida smiled. "Samuel." She knew she could count on her friend. "I need supplies."

"Text me a list. You'll have them inside two hours."

"Thank you."

There was a brief pause, before he asked, "What's happening?"

She moved away from the balcony and into her home, sliding the glass door closed. Quickly she walked into her kitchen.

"Onida?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Don't worry. It's safe."

Samuel Adcox frowned at the cryptic reply. Instead of asking for clarification, though, he said, "I'm ready."

Onida closed her eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll be waiting for your text. See you soon."

Onida stared down at the silent phone, and after a minute texted her list. Reaching into her cupboard, she pulled out the last of her bread, and though stale, she buttered it and put it in the oven to toast. While she waited, she dumped the last remnants of her coffee into the maker and turned it on.

Soon she was wolfing down toast and inhaling weak coffee. Snatching up her phone, she texted "coffee." She was going to need it.

When she felt steadier, Onida went to the double glass doors and stared out past her canvas into the meadow and forest beyond. She needed rest, but she could wait until after Samuel brought her groceries. She needed to strengthen the cage again before she could sleep. The continual pummeling on the walls was weakening the structure faster, almost, that she could keep it reinforced. Never before had a guardian brought someone else into their enclosure. They were curious, they were angry, they were dangerous.

Pulling in a breath and steadying herself, Onida stepped outside onto the balcony.

Caleb rolled onto his back and immediately groaned at the movement. His head felt like it was stuffed with tacks.

"Drink more tea."

Turning his head slightly, Caleb squinted at a light-haired shape near the bed. "Josh?"

"Max," the shape said.

A few blinks, and the shape came into focus. Caleb gave the young man a slight smile. "Hey." Grunting, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Drink this," Max said, holding the mug closer.

"Naw, I'm good."

"I'm not giving you a choice," Max stated.

Caleb looked up in surprise, then winced.

"Here," Max pushed the mug into Caleb's hands. "This will help, I promise."

Sighing, Caleb lifted the mug to his lips and sipped. "Tastes like crap."

Max grinned. "I know."

"How's he doing?"

Caleb squinted at the door. A blurry shape stood there, but he didn't need clarity to know who it was. "Deuce," he murmured, pushing himself to his feet. He wobbled a bit and heard Idiot, as two sets of hands steadied him.

"Lay back down, Uncle Caleb," Max urged, pushing Caleb back onto the bed. "You experienced a psychic wound. You need to give yourself time to recover."

"A psychic wound?" Caleb repeated. "Seriously?"

"That's what dad said," Max defended. "Whatever you call it, you need to rest."

"We have a hunt, and I'm able to fight."

Dean looked at Max and jerked his head toward the door with a smile.

Sighing, Max handed off the mug and walked out.

Dean dropped into the chair recently exited by his godson. Eyeing Caleb, he said, "Damian, you need to rest. We're here for another day, and I need you at the top of your game when we get to Washington. You're on point with this one; you're the contact with the dreamer. Jackson, Steve and Mark are here to help. We've got the Sam-Jimmy brain trust, JT and I are here, so brains as well as good looks are covered…"

"Just, stop there," Caleb griped, waving a hand in Dean's direction and lying back down. "Even after all these years, still insecure about your looks around the more handsome teammate. Pathetic."

"Drink the tea," Dean ordered. Moving to the door, he gave one more look over his shoulder to make sure Caleb was downing the beverage before he headed downstairs.

"He drink the tea?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded as he stepped into the kitchen. "You making a new batch?"

Max nodded. "Dad said Caleb suffered a psychic wound, and that this stuff," he leaned over and sniffed, making a face as he straightened, "would help lessen the pain and speed the healing."

Curious, Dean walked over to the pot, then quickly backed away. "Excellent. Make sure he drinks a lot."

Max laughed.

Dean smiled and walked into the library where Sam, James and Mark were working. "Where's JT?"

"Outside," Sam said. "His ability to sit still is better than yours, but he needed a break."

James twisted in his chair. "You bring snacks?"

"And he's got your appetite," Sam grumbled. "We had breakfast…" he glanced at his watch and saw it was after one in the afternoon. "Oh!"

James nodded. "Yeah, oh. Slaver driver," he muttered.

"Watch it," Dean admonished good naturedly, giving his son a tap on the head.

"Sorry; slave driver, Sir," James corrected, then ducked his father's hand.

Mark leaned over and absently gave James a whack on the head.

"Hey!" James yelped.

"Nice," Dean smirked.

"Gotta respect your elders," Mark remarked.

"Gee, thanks," Sam tried for sincere but ended up grumbling. He always felt off when someone referred to him as older. Yeah, he was fifty-seven, but he didn't feel fifty-seven. Inside he still felt thirty.

Dean smiled, easily knowing how to interpret the disgruntled expression on Sam's face. He felt the same way. "I'm going to get together some lunch. Then I want to hear where we are with the hunt."

Thirty minutes later Mark, Sam, James, JT and Max were gathered around Bobby's kitchen table eating grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, bags of chips and a plate of carrots.

"Why's that on the table?" James asked in disgust. He hated carrots. "That isn't lunch."

"These," Max said, holding up a carrot, "are what one type of vegetable looks like. This one is called a carrot." He popped the carrot in his mouth and crunched.

James rolled his eyes. "I know what it is."

"Got to have veggies," Mark said.

"We've got tomato in the sandwich," James griped.

"Tomatoes are a fruit," JT observed, talking a bite.

"Where are Jackson and Steve?" Sam asked, cutting off the impending argument.

"On the road. They've got their once-a-month delivery of parts to an auto repair shop in Sioux Falls." Mark glanced at his watch. Standing, he gathered his plate and glass and put them in the sink. "They should be back in a couple hours. And I've got a class in half an hour," he said, heading for the door. "Catcha later!"

Dean finished his sandwich and took his dishes to the sink. "I'll meet you all in the library."

Sam got to his feet and followed.

"Dishes again?" Max complained, rising. "This is definitely a conspiracy."

.

Dean, Sam and the boys spent the next couple hours gathering information, with Max leaving every once in awhile to take Caleb some tea. It was close to four when Jody walked in.

"Gentlemen." The former sheriff took a seat in one of the library room chairs and looked over at Dean. "Thanks for the assignment from hell."

Dean frowned. Tapping official law enforcement channels should have been simple information gathering, especially for someone who worked in the field. "What's up?"

Jody shook her head. "On the one hand, finding out about the tribe, the village and the nearby towns was routine. Finding out the name you want … not so easy. I hit my head on so many brick walls, I've got a concussion."

"What did you find out?"

Jody took a notebook from her shirt pocket. "The Yakama tribe has an elder council." She ripped out a page with names and handed it to Dean. "The tribe's leader is Samuel Adcox. He's been the Tribal Chief for thirty-eight years. The tribe owns and runs the White Swan Medical Clinic, whose chief of staff is Richard Nez, a member on the tribal council. Several doctors, nurses and workers at the clinic are tribe members, though much of the staff is from surrounding towns. The tribe also has a medicine man; Joseph Whitetail. He was raised as the medicine man and is an expert in holistic and herbal medicines. He oversees births, deaths, sweat lodges and soul searches."

"What's a soul search?" Dean asked.

"Soul searches," Sam interjected, "also known as vision quests, are undertaken by tribe members for various reasons, and is accompanied by ceremonies led by the tribal elders. They happen when momentous decisions need to be made, like when a young man comes of age, when the tribe is in need or danger..."

"Okay, okay," Dean said, holding up a hand. "I get it."

Jody smiled. "My former colleague in the Yakima City police department says that the smaller towns have honest law enforcement, and he put me in touch with Erik Olsen, sheriff of White Swan. He was less forthcoming, but confirmed the identity of the tribal chief and medicine man. I thought he was holding something back, but when I pressed, he clammed up."

"You have any idea what he was withholding?" Sam asked.

"Yes, and no. Yes, he was withholding the identity of someone else in the tribe, someone important."

"Who?"

"That's the no part. An American Indian Tribe consists of the Tribal Chief, the elders, the tribal council, the medicine man or woman, and the tribe members. We know all those for the Yakama tribe. So, there's some other person whose position is important, someone we don't know."

"It's Caleb's dream visitor," Dean stated. "They're protecting the dream sender."

Onida refreshed her coffee and walked into the living room. Samuel had dropped off her groceries and tried to find out what was going on. Since she didn't have the time or the energy to explain, all she could do was tell him she would ask when she needed his help. Nodding, he'd been reluctant to leave until she promised to call. She hoped she wouldn't have to come through on that.

When he'd gone, she quickly tossed a frozen lasagna for one in the microwave. While it was cooking, she opened the bread sack and ate two pieces. The microwave pinged, and she pulled out the lasagna and dumped it onto a plate. Without sitting, she blew on the meal and quickly downed the hot food. When she finished, she felt steadier. She took a second lasagna and stuck it in the microwave, then poured herself a glass of milk and placed it on the table. When the ping sounded, she pulled the second container and dumped it on the plate and took it to the table to eat. This time she ate slower, needing the relaxing minutia of the task to calm her down.

Setting her dishes in the sink, she leaned against the counter and sighed. It was amazing how food helped one's spirit. After a moment, she pushed off the cabinets and walked back through the kitchen and living room, and stared out onto the balcony. Eyes closed, she felt for the energy. It was contained, and she needed sleep.

Instead of going to the bedroom, Onida opted for the living room couch. Sluggishly she pulled a blanket over her body, closed her eyes and dropped off to sleep.

.

Six hours later Onida was once again standing at the balcony door. Eyes on the canvas, she checked her work, making sure the containment was in place. Once assured of its security, she lifted her eyes to the meadow beyond. Wild flowers were peppering the green with pinpoints of color. In daylight, the forest beyond looked fresh and innocent; even the shadows looked welcoming to visitors. But they didn't know what she did; that some shadows hid scary things, creatures of nightmares.

It was strange; she had a sensation of ending, and that relieved and frightened her. She'd spent her entire life training and working as the guardian for the Yakama people. She'd spent numerous hours over the last twenty years searching for one to take her place, the one she would train and to whom she would pass all her knowledge. The last five years had been spent searching for someone to help her take on the witches and end them. And he was coming. He was coming and bringing help. In spite of knowing it needed to be done, in spite of knowing this was the right course of action, she didn't know quite how she felt about that.

She refocused her attention beyond the meadow to the forest. When she was young, she had spent hours near the forest hiking, picking up pinecones for her mother, taking photos of birds for Marius. Marius, whom she'd loved with her whole heart and with the innocence of youth. She wondered what their life would have been like now if he were here. Some days she could imagine him sitting there on the sofa, grading student papers and listening to a ballgame. Other days, it was like he'd never been.

.

40 years ago

Onida and Marius were married toward the end of the 20th century, on November 1, 1999; All Saints Day. Álxayx died on December 2, 1999. Onida's plans to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with her new husband, alternating between his and her families, ended. Instead, she moved into the guardian's house and took up her duties as protector of the Yakima people.

During her first few months as the official guardian, Onida was swamped getting the feel of how the landscape worked and learning to infuse her style into Álxayx's. It was a scary and rewarding time. Usually when a Yaotlapializtli relinquished the canvas to the new guardian, a three-to-six month hands on training period followed. Since Álxayx's death was sudden and unexpected, Onida was on her own. Luckily, her training had been thorough. Even still, the canvas was complicated, and there were many times she found herself yearning for Álxayx's wisdom and guidance. Instead, her own training, creativity and adaptive skills were tested to their full measure.

Her work day began right before sunset. She kept a running chart on the sun and lunar cycles. It was important to know the exact time the sun went down, for the blackest time of the night was usually between six to seven and a half hours after sunset. Those windows were when the witches had the most power. New moons were particularly difficult, as they were the darkest nights of the month. Evil loved darkness, and it was those nights she had to work the hardest to keep evil at bay. During new moons she was on duty from sunset till dawn.

The turning of a new century pulled Onida from her work, and she and Marius celebrated with their families in White Swan. They celebrated again at the tribal festival for the New Year, with dances and the ancient custom of offering flowers, breads, spices and wines to the Great Father God, asking Him to bless the new era. Marius and Onida followed up both celebrations with a more intimate one of their own, drinking Quilceda Creek wine made in Washington and watching the sun rise on a new year; a new century. She felt the world was laid out before her like a carpet, and she was excited to start walking into the next millennia.

Managing hers and Marius' schedules and getting comfortable with her new position meant the days flew by, and soon they were celebrating their first Valentines. Onida had recently discovered some wonderful news and couldn't wait to tell her husband. After an intimate dinner full of laughter and heart-shaped chocolates, she reluctantly went to work.

As usual, it was after three in the morning before she was able to go to bed. In the early hours just before Marius needed to be up for work, Onida whispered he was going to be a father.

Marius' eyes widened, sparkling with excitement. "We're having a baby?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Boy or girl?"

Onida laughed. "I don't know. I didn't know whether we should find out, or wait and be surprised."

Marius pretended to think hard about that. "I don't know. Waiting would be fun, but knowing would mean getting the nursery colors right straight out of the gate. Then the fun we could have picking out baby names and…"

"Okay, okay," Onida grinned. "Let's find out."

"You're going to have to move your pictures," Marius whispered gleefully.

"What do you mean?" Onida mumbled between placing kisses on his neck.

"Soon we're going to need room on the fridge for crayon drawings, not pen and inks of birds."

Onida gave a delighted laugh. "I think I can find places for both."

Five days later it was a new moon, another night of intense work for Onida. Marius didn't fully understand what she did to help the tribe, didn't know the evil that lurked in the woods at the base of the mountain. For him, the mountains were a wondrous place of hikes and meadows and birds, though at Onida's request, he didn't go into the forest near their residence. He was a keen advocate for endangered avian species, namely the rare Swainson's Hawk, the Merlin Falcon and the Golden Eagle. As a competent artist, he spent many hours sketching several bird species for nature magazines and ornithology clubs. Onida had several of his drawings tacked up all over their kitchen and refrigerator. But for Onida, new moon nights were intense. Marius usually stayed with his parents in town, so as not to distract her. This month he hadn't wanted to leave her alone because of the baby. He did, however, stay in their bedroom while she worked on the deck.

It was just after two-thirty in the morning when Onida felt a wobble in the containment energy field. Frowning, she stepped toward the balcony railing and closed her eyes. Reaching out, she used her energy and felt a bow, a warp in one small corner of the cage. Stepping to the left, she touched her canvas lightly, letting her fingertips move across the intricate painting. But the familiar touch of darkness, the crawling of witchcraft was fainter than usual.

An escape.

Her eyes popped open. Quickly she grabbed some herbs from the table, took a large pinch and rubbed it vigorously in her palm; two fingers on her right hand rubbing into the palm of her left. She didn't know how many witches were out, and the first order of business was to prevent another breech. Snatching her knife, she cut her left palm, letting her blood mix with the paste. Then she slapped her hand on the canvas and rubbed once. Immediately the canvas glowed and ate the paste. The barest hint of a dark energy fluttered behind her, and had her turning. Quietly she moved to the side of the balcony door, slid the glass open a fraction and stepped inside.

Cautiously she crossed the living room to hers and Marius' bedroom. Opening the door, she peeked inside and saw her husband's familiar shape lying in bed. His shoulders were moving as he breathed and she felt a sigh of relief. Closing the door, she laid her left palm on the hard surface and murmured a few words. Stepping away, a bit of the paste and blood she'd used on the canvas stayed on the door. Inside their bedroom, Marcus would be protected.

Turning, she was headed back to the deck when she heard the noise. It was faint, just the barest creak in the wood, but she knew every squeak and crack of this house. Instead of stopping, she forced herself to continue her casual walk to the balcony. When she neared the kitchen pantry, she darted to her left and swung open the pantry door. Inside she was just able to grasp a walking stick carved with ancient runes and magical sigils when the witch attacked.

Onida swung her staff with all the force of a pro ball player and managed to block the witch's knife. The black-hooded witch was knocked off balance and fell to her right, stumbling into the oven and knocking pots and utensils to the floor. A second witch with a brown cloak covered in sticks and leaves blurred into view on her left. Onida pulled energy from inside her body and hurled it outward, tossing the witch into the living room. By this time the black witch had recovered and, faster than the eye could see, she was nearly at Onida's side when the guardian shoved an energy spear into the witch's side. An eerie howl went up; part hoot, part scream.

Onida knew she needed to get to the balcony. There she could enact the protocol Álxayx had explained for whenever a witch got free. Stumbling to her feet, Onida ran into the living room, shoved a ball of energy at the twig and leaf witch who was scrambling to her feet. Snatching her staff from off the floor, she slammed it into the floorboards of her home and the ground rumbled. The witch stumbled. Onida murmured a few Yakama chants and the sigils glowed ruby red. In a fraction of a second the five sigils climbing the front of the staff blew scorching red hot fire at the witch, who howled and dropped where she stood.

"Onida?"

"Back in the bedroom!" Onida shouted.

The black witch who'd been heading in her direction pivoted in the blink of an eye and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Nooo!" Onida shouted, as she changed direction. A blur slightly to her right had her swinging her staff. The connect was solid and satisfying, and the brown-cloaked witch dropped again. She reached the kitchen and pulled more energy into a ball and hurled it at the black-hooded witch who shoved an inky black fog of energy directly at Marius' body. Screaming, he flew backwards, hitting the floor near the refrigerator.

Onida stumbled as the brown, leafy witch tackled her from behind, driving her forward onto her knees. Almost hugging Onida, the witch extended clawed hands and racked them across her belly and chest with razor sharp talons. Screaming "q̓ínu-šana maš, Áan, ku pá-iyawi-ya!," a shell of energy blew out from Onida's body. The witch was hurled upward and hit the ceiling, then slid ten feet away and dropped, unmoving, to the floor. "Áan, pá-iyawi-ya!" she screamed at the black-cloaked witch near Marius, and fiery red light flew from her hands, wrapped itself around the witch and shut off the scream that had started to climb up the witch's throat. She dropped unmoving to the ground.

One hand went to her wet, shredded stomach while the other pushed against the ground so she could stand. Breathing through the pain, Onida stumbled slightly, but she needed to get to the picture. If she didn't, these witches would continue to fight until she'd expended all her energy reserves or bled out. Then the pair would kill her and Marius, and they would all be free. Turning, she shot another narrow beam of energy at the feebly stirring witch nearest Marius and headed for the balcony. The screech in her wake was satisfying.

She felt one behind her, and before the thing could attack, Onida pulled a dark red ball of anger and rage from her body and hurled it. The ball connected and spread like ants across the brown witch's body, crackling and glowing with fire. The creature screamed in agony and dropped to the ground. Onida raced forward and hit the sliding glass door hard. Her hand fumbled for the handle. She pulled it open a mere six inches and slid through. Blood loss caused her to lose her balance and she fell to her knees. Smacking the ground with an impatient hand, she pushed herself into a kneeling position. She didn't have time for this crap.

Suddenly the sliding glass doors exploded outward and both witches were there facing the canvas. Onida closed her eyes and focused. In the blink of an eye she brought forth the spectrum of her energies; white for purity, yellow for energy, green for creation, blue knowledge, and red for rage and coiled them within her body. Instantly there were swirls of color in her palms and she hurled them at the witches. The explosive impact knocked her on her butt and shoved her closer to her canvas. Without checking the see the damage she'd inflicted, she flipped back onto her knees and scrambled for the painting. There was no time, there was no energy left. Pulling forth every last ounce of strength she had left, she placed both hands right in the middle of the painting, shoving energy through her palms and through her blood into the canvas. She felt the cage snap upward and solidify, but it was too slow and she was too weak. Screaming inside in desperation, she suddenly felt a curl of bright, sweet pure light come up through her belly and out through her hands. A sob tore its way from her throat as she felt her daughter die and give her energy to the enclosure. Sobbing out her grief and heartache, she felt the witches in her home disappear back into the enclosure and the gate slam shut.

Immediately she grabbed the phone to the right of the canvas and hit speed dial one. "Yiút," (earthquake) she barked and dropped the phone to the floor. The SOS word for a catastrophic event had been delivered, help would come.

Drained, Onida collapsed onto the balcony floor and cried her heart out. Vision still blurred with tears of sorrow, she pushed herself laboriously onto her knees. Hand to her stomach in a feeble attempt to stymie the blood flow, she crawled into the house. Vaguely she was aware of glass slashing her hands and knees, but Marius was in there, and she needed Marius. Pain was the only sensation she felt as she crawled through the living room and into the kitchen.

He was there, lying near the refrigerator. His hair looked blacker against the cream tile of the kitchen floor. A hand lay casually on his chest and his eyes were closed. He looked relaxed as though he were sleeping. Sobbing, Onida used the last of her strength to crawl to his side. With a trembling hand, she touched his soft cheek. It was cool. She couldn't see for the tears. "Marius," she wept. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me." Gently she laid her head on his quiet chest and whispered, "Aštimná, ašátawit, ašlákayxit (My heart, my love, my light)."

Samuel Adcox broke into the house five minutes later.

Onida opened her eyes. The room was white and there was a beeping sound off to her left. She could smell healing herbs and spices in the air and she knew where she was; in the Reservation clinic. But she couldn't find it within herself to care.

"Hey," came a soft voice off to her right.

Turning her head, Onida saw her mother and father. Her lips trembled as tears flooded her eyes and escaped onto her cheeks.

"Oh, baby," Angeni murmured. Gently she caressed Onida's hair, every once in a while wiping the tears from her face. Onida's father held her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly back and forth across her palm.

Onida just cried. She had no words left, no thoughts in her fractured mind. Sorrow was the cleaner and it had wiped her brain dry.

When she woke again, her mother was gone and her father sat by her bed reading his favorite Walt Whitman book, "Leaves of Grass." She didn't move, didn't call out. She simply watched this comforting tableau of life. Eventually her father felt the inspection and looked up. Smiling, he put his book aside and leaned forward. Carding his fingers through her hair, he murmured, "Hello, sweetness."

Onida's lips trembled slightly before she murmured, "Marius."

Johan nodded in resignation. "We buried Marius in Swan Lake near his family."

Onida looked away. Unconsciously her hand touched her stomach.

"The baby's gone," he murmured.

"I know," Onida whispered. "I felt her go."

"A baby girl?"

Onida nodded, and though she tried as hard as she could, the sob forced its way from her throat. "Can we have a grave for her near Marius? Her name is Angel Maria Marius Rosten."

"We can, baby, we'll make it happen."

The door opened and Samuel walked in. Slowly he approached the bed. "Onida, I am so sorry."

Onida pulled herself together as much as she was able, and nodded.

"I know this isn't a good time, but there never will be again, will there?" he stated, knowledge and sorrow written on his face. "So I ask for the sake of the Yakama people … are we safe?"

Johan stood and moved between Onida and the tribal chief. "Samuel, now is not…"

"Daddy, it's fine," Onida said. Samuel's question more than anything since she'd opened her eyes in the Reservation Clinic steadied her. "How long have I been here?"

"A week and a half," Samuel said, moving around Johan and coming nearer the bed.

Onida nodded. "The containment is secure. When will Joseph get here?"

"He's been here every day since I brought you in. The first four days he didn't leave your side. Since then he's come in at ten in the morning and again at six in the evening." Samuel looked at his watch. "He should be here in another hour."

The door opened again and Angeni entered. Seeing Onida's eyes open, she hurried forward. "Baby. You're awake again. Let me get you some water."

Onida nodded, suddenly very thirsty. She took a couple sips of cool water before nodding she was finished. Clearing her throat, she said, "I want to know how I'm doing and when I can go home."

"Onida," her mother began.

"I ... have a job to do." She looked at Samuel. "After Joseph gets here, please inform Richard Nez I would like an update on my injuries and an ETA on my release."

Samuel nodded and left the room.

"Onida, baby…" her mother tried again.

Onida shook her head. Forcing the tears from her eyes, she continued, "Could you and dad please go to the house, pack up Marius' … things," she choked slightly. "…and take them to his parents? Please box up…" she swallowed again, "the drawings, pictures … our … wedding things," her voice broke, and her mother wiped at the tears that refused to be contained. Her father brought a cup of water to her lips so she could drink. When she could, she swallowed again and murmured, "Sorry. Please take those to your house. I can't … I can't do my job with those memories around."

Angeni stared at her daughter.

Johan nodded his head. "We'll make sure the place is as Álxayx," he stressed, "left it."

Onida swallowed again, trying feebly to get the lump in her throat to go away. "I would also like to arrange … for all my accounts to be returned to my maiden name. Could you do that for me?"

Tears leaked from her father's eyes as he nodded. "Yes, baby, I can do that."

Onida nodded, her eyes on her fathers. "Thank you."

The Present – Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Dean rose from his chair and stretched.

"Going to check on Caleb?" Sam asked, concern on his face.

"Yeah."

Max had taken some tea upstairs an hour ago, and hadn't returned. Dean was concerned. When he got up to Bobby's room, he found Max sitting beside Caleb's bed, watching his uncle sleep.

"You all right?" Dean asked softly.

Max turned and gave Dean a weak smile. "Yeah. Got him to drink more tea and that's helping. But he still looks like he's in pain." Sighing, he looked back at Caleb. "I wish dad were here. He'd know what to do."

"You're doing what he would do," Dean said.

"But he'd know how to tweak the mixture to help more. I didn't pay enough attention, and now I don't know what to do." He held up his phone. "I tried texting and calling, but dad is probably in with the coven elders, and they don't allow phones. No signal."

Dean reclaimed his prior seat next to Caleb's legs. "You see this?" he pointed to the sleeping man. "That's because you made the tea that helped. You'll learn more. But right now, he's asleep and recovering, and that's a good thing."

Max nodded.

Dean knew Max needed a distraction, so he asked, "How far have you gotten on weapons that kill owl witches?"

Max pulled his eyes from Caleb's face and nodded. "Aside from manmade means like bullets, knives, arrows, owls die by natural viruses; Avian Pox, Canker, Aspergillosis, other viral infection. But I don't think we want to get our hands on the West Nile virus in order to weaponize it to kill witches." Breaking off a moment, he pondered, "Though I'd bet anything the West Nile virus has already been weaponized."

"Why don't we avoid adding to the world's problems by weaponizing West Nile," Dean remarked dryly.

Max gave his godfather a quick smile. "Agreed. The best plan is to stick with what we know will kill witches; silver, iron, holy water being the most popular. Witches are tough and can take a lot of punishment. They'll recover from most wounds like bullets, knives and swords. The weapons will need to be silver or consecrated iron. In studying what we know of these witches, it's their mystical energy manipulation that is formidable. If they're faster than the eye can see, will we be able to see them to kill them? Dad can probably come up with some potions that may be effective. Maybe this dream lady will know a better way to kill them, but at this moment I'd say take their damn heads off."

"Are you saying off with their heads?" came a voice from the bed.

Dean turned to see Caleb's eyes open and watching them.

"You're quoting Alice in Wonderland?" Max laughed.

"Having spent far too many hours entertaining Josie and Mary growing up? Of course. And you know where the quote came from, so no stone throwing," Caleb retorted.

"Got it," Max smirked. Pointing to the mug on the nightstand, he said, "Drink," before leaving the room.

Caleb shoved at Dean to get off the bed and pushed himself up. Picking up the mug, he grimaced and downed the remainder of the liquid. "So, why do you have Max researching how to kill witches when we already know how to kill witches?"

"There's always more information to be had," Dean said with a smile. When Caleb gave him the raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "I don't want them to feel complacent since we're here. Usually when we hunt with the boys, we carry the load and they're in training mode. This time it's a hunt, real-time. I don't want them going into this thinking we'll be doing the heavy lifting. They need to take it seriously and carry their own weight."

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. He hadn't really looked at the current situation in that light, but what Dean said made a lot of sense. This hunt was dangerous, and everyone needed to be on their game.

"How's the noggin?"

Caleb looked up and gave a slight lift of his shoulders. "Feels like my head is full of cotton and tacks. But my stomach feels better." Seeing Dean's face he added, "Deuce, I'm fine. My abilities are still there and the walls will heal."

Dean felt the guilt of forcing Caleb into the position of making himself vulnerable; and he felt even worse knowing that in the same circumstance, he'd do it again.

Caleb knew Dean better than he knew himself, and he knew exactly what his friend was feeling. "I didn't want to do it, but it needed to be done. Now we know the witch showdown happens in White Swan, Washington. Thanks for giving me a push."

"Thanks for finding me at Rockefeller Center," Dean said softly.

"I got your back," Caleb said. "Always."

Clamoring on the stairs saved them from falling further into sentimentality. JT and James shoved at one another to get through the door.

Dean rolled his eyes. Sometimes his kids still acted like they were under ten, and damn if he didn't love them more than life.

"Are you feeling better?" JT asked.

James elbowed his brother in the side, eliciting a grunt. "Dinner's on. Jody says no shop talk till after we've eaten."

Caleb felt his stomach rumble and got to his feet. "What's on the menu?"

"Spaghetti and garlic bread," JT said, moving to the door. "Come down when you're ready!"

.

Dinner was a casual affair, with a large bowl of pasta making its way repeatedly around the table. Jackson and Steve gave a rundown of their day, and Mark had them in gales of laughter with tales of his online classes. When the last of the spaghetti, bread and salad had been devoured, everyone went into the library, pulling in more chairs from the kitchen to accommodate everyone.

Without any preamble, Dean said, "Where are we?"

Everyone looked to Sam to kick things off. "I believe you heard what Max had to say about the weapons, but to sum up, at this point using silver or consecrated iron is best, but cutting off their heads is the sure-fire way to kill a witch."

"And the metaphysical stuff?" Dean asked.

"That's the difficult part," JT said. "We all know metaphysical is using abilities that aren't human normal. We have our share of paranormal abilities, but we know what those are. We don't know what these witches can do except the myths which say they move very fast and possibly fly. If we go into the woods after them, I suggest we have spotters far enough back to be an asset in taking out the witches if they can fly. As for moving really fast, there's no weapons for that. I thought about seeing if Joshua could make a potion that would allow us to see their movements. Otherwise, we're relying on spotters, or Uncle Caleb, Uncle Sam or Jimmy to sense them in enough time so we can react." Looking over at Caleb, he said, "I'm counting on your dream connection for more data. If she's been fighting these owl witches, then she has some skills we can use or copy."

"Nice work," Dean said, and Sam echoed that sentiment. "Jimmy?"

"I confirmed much of the same information as Jody. The Tribal Chief is Samuel Adcox, the Medicine man is Joshua Whitetail. There are around three thousand, five hundred tribe members living on the res at this time. A few live in White Swan or any of the other surrounding towns, but the reservation population has been shrinking as members leave for better money or better work options. They still have tribal meetings once a month, and the new moon is coming up."

Max frowned. "The new moon? Why do you bring that up?"

"New moons are the darkest night of the year," Sam said.

James nodded. "And the tribe has the new moon on the tribal calendar. The darkest night of the month is good for lurking evil and sneaking around," he finished with a grin. "As far as this mystery person no one will talk about, all I got was Tunweya Najin which means guard or protector."

"You got more than I did," Jody said.

"Good," Dean said, thinking about the hunt. "We need to get to White Swan asap." Looking to Max, he confirmed, "Joshua and Ryker are in tomorrow morning?"

"Dad said he had an eight AM flight. They should be here by eleven-ish."

"The Ames jet can take us on to Yakima," Caleb said.

"Flying?" Dean said, with what he thought was a degree of nonchalance.

Sam grinned. "It'll be the fastest way there, and I think this dreamer needs our help."

Dean sighed. He'd only flown a handful of times, and only since he and Juliet had gotten together. "Fine, we'll fly. Once we get there, Sam, I want you and JT to visit with the tribal chief. Max and Ryker can get us settled into the nearest hotel with multiple rooms available. Joshua and James can check in with the sheriff of White Swan."

"Why do we need to do that?" James asked.

"We've got eight men coming into a very small town, men who look like they know how to handle themselves. It's always best to check in with local law enforcement so they know we're not going to cause trouble."

"I'll call Eric Olsen," Jody said, "let him know to expect you."

"Thanks," Dean nodded. "Caleb will go with me to visit the dream sender."

"We don't know where she lives," Caleb pointed out.

"I'm counting on you being able to sense her once we're there. We can always get the tribe's chief to take us, but I'd rather we make first contact without her having backup. If she can send dreams to Fort Knox, here," Dean pointed to Caleb, "and she's been protecting the Yakama people from witches, sounds like she's a badass." Dean eyed the others, his expression fierce. "I want to see what she's got."

TBC