I'm not too sure on medical stuff, so appologies in advance it if all seems a little off ... but hopefully this chapter will tie in with Alan's first vision! I got visited by the Angel of Continuity ... its a first.

Naturally, their destination that night was the bridge.

They had driven out of town for the day, lying low and attempting to catch up on lost sleep, one of the elder boys always acting as a sentry. Gordon had slept at once, and no one wanted to wake him, still far too pale for anyone's liking, and understandably shattered. Scott, suffering from a bout of insomnia, was wired, too keyed up to sleep and John never seemed to snatch more than four hours at a time, so Virgil opted to close his eyes first and set an example for Alan. The twelve year old did not want to settle down, not even when John offered himself as a pillow and wrapped a firm arm around the squirming boy while Scott went to stretch his legs.

"Close your eyes, kiddo," he murmured. "Lie still a moment and you'll sleep."

"I can't," Alan complained. "Virgil's snoring too loud."

"He can't help that, Sprout," John laughed. "Scott broke his nose when he was your age and it's never been the same since."

"Scott?" Alan exclaimed.

John nodded. "The year before you were born," he confirmed. "You probably won't believe this, but those two used to fight like cat and dog."

"Scott and Virgil?"

"They didn't always get on like they do now. They were forever arguing and one day, Scott took a swing at Virgil."

"Wow," Alan breathed, trying to picture his brother's fighting. "What did Virgil do?"

"Nothing," John remembered. "He was too shocked to cry and I think that's what got to Scott more than anything else, that sad, hurt look. He's never raised his fist again, as far as I know, and while Virgil was walking around with two black eyes, Scott couldn't do enough for him. It certainly brought them closer."

Alan peered around the headrest to look at his sleeping brother. He'd always been aware that Virgil's nose was slightly crooked, but it wasn't something he'd ever paid attention to before. It had simply always been there, like the sun or Saturday morning cartoons.

John pulled the boy close again. "C'mon, kiddo," he said. "Close your eyes."

Alan obediently did as he was told, although he was determined not to fall asleep. After what he'd experienced the night before, Alan wasn't keen to invite dreams inside his head.

"Maybe I'm like you, Johnny," he sighed, after waiting a full sixty seconds. "Maybe I can't sleep either."

John smiled indulgently. The youngest Tracy had never shown any signs of being unable to sleep, almost as famous as Virgil for wanting to stay under the covers. "Maybe," he said, diplomatically.

Alan sighed again. He wriggled. He stared at his brother. "Why don't you sleep, John?"

"The world thinks too loud," he answered, tapping the side of his head.

Alan's eyes grew wide. "Can you really hear everyone?"

"I can hear a murmur, mostly," John replied. "People tend to babble in their own minds."

"If you wanted to," Alan pressed, lifting himself up onto his elbow, "you could know what we're all thinking, right?"

John shook his head. "I don't go looking, Sprout. I don't want to invade peoples privacy."

"Unless we're in trouble," Alan told him confidently, a child who'd always been cared for and couldn't see a reason why he shouldn't be.

"Yeah, I guess I'd do it then," John agreed.

"What about accidentally?"

John smiled. "I catch little things, every now and then. Like how much you're hoping I won't do this!"

He tickled Alan's sensitive ribcage suddenly, making the boy laugh and squirm as Scott opened the door.

"You're supposed to be getting him to sleep, not winding him up," he noted with a smile, sliding behind the wheel. As sentry, it made sense for he and Virgil to swap places while the younger man slept. The two blonds became quiet once more and Scott picked up the copied files to read through again. Alan rolled onto his back, feet resting on Gordon's lap. The red head didn't stir. Alan pulled a few faces at his only blond brother instead.

"Alan, we're going to be busy tonight and I know you didn't sleep last night," Scott called from the front. "I really need you to go to sleep now."

Alan rolled his eyes as Scott slipped into parenting mode and John joined him, going so far as to cross his eyes. Scott didn't glance up from his paperwork.

"Don't make me come back there, guys."

Alan and John froze, before breaking into laughter at each other's expressions. Scott sighed and John sobered once more.

"Alright, Sprout," he said. "Why don't I tell you all about those lectures I attended? Close your eyes and you can picture what I'm talking about."

Within fifteen minutes, the pre-teens breathing evened and he slept. John met Scott's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Should I be insulted that he thinks I'm boring, or honoured that he trusts me?" he chuckled.

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Virgil woke when Scott started the engine.

"Where we going?" he asked groggily, cuffing at his eyes.

"Nowhere special," Scott replied. "Just been here too long, gonna move us on is all. Go back to sleep."

Virgil yawned, scrubbing at his face. "Nah, I'm awake now."

He glanced into the back seat, smiling at his sleeping siblings. Even John had finally dozed off. They drove in silence for a while and Virgil used the opportunity to assess his older brother. He had decided long ago that since Scott had appointed himself responsible for his brothers' well being, Virgil would be the one to look after Scott. He looked tired but tense, in control and alert but in need of some rest himself. Virgil was just about to tell him so, when Scott spoke.

"I'm glad you're awake, actually," he said, as if aware of Virgil's thoughts and keen not to hear them. "There's some things we need to discuss."

"Such as?"

"We need to be smarter. We were lucky the Sheriff didn't impound the SUV, those guns aren't exactly hidden in the boot."

Virgil nodded, unsurprised his brother was thinking ahead again. "I can rig something up for them," he offered. "A hidden panel or something."

Scott nodded his acceptance. "We also need to go over our ammo. It's been a while since we used this stuff and I'm not sure how well it's kept."

"Scott, it's rock salt and iron. That stuff doesn't tend to go off in a vacuum sealed vault."

"All the same," Scott replied, adamant. "It won't hurt us to go over it and it'll double as an exercise in getting our hand back into the game. We were kids when Dad gave this up."

Virgil snorted. "And you were top of his class, big brother. Don't worry, we'll be fine. I wasn't exactly a slouch myself and John was showing quite a bit of interest."

"Johnny was ten, he could barely lift the shot gun."

"But he was amazing at the research. He knew more than we did." Virgil twisted in his seat to face Scott as the man pulled over again. "Dad always said to play to our strengths. You're a great shot and I can dig a grave like no one else, we'll use John as our bookworm, just like the old days."

Scott nodded with a tired smile. "Fine. I'd still like to run through the weapons with him."

"Fair enough," Virgil agreed. "What about Gordy?"

"He'll have some good weapons knowledge from WASP," Scott pointed out. "I'm not too concerned about him. But he was small when Dad was doing this and he was sheltered from a lot of it."

"This is Gordon we're talking about," Virgil reminded him with a smile. "There wasn't much you could hide from him, not if he was determined. And he was."

"Still, it'd be in our interest to run down the basic do's and don'ts. Alan too."

Virgil lifted an eyebrow. "Really? You think the Sprout's ready for this?"

Scott shrugged a little helplessly. "He's already involved, Virge. I'd like to arm him with just enough knowledge to keep him safe. Besides, you're forgetting the demon. He's back for the kid and that scares me no end."

It scared Virgil no end that Scott was scared enough to admit it, but he kept his opinion to himself and nodded thoughtfully. "This evening, then," he agreed. "But first, you're going to get some shut eye. I'm prepared to knock you out, Scott," he added seriously when his big brother opened his mouth to protest.

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By the time they reached the bridge, it was nightfall. To Alan, it looked very different in the dark, something sinister in the framework, more threatening in the absence of sunlight. The other boys must have felt it also, the brothers exiting the car slowly, looking around for signs of trouble. Virgil, bereft of the coffee he craved, turned his attention back to the car and its new mud and scratches paintwork.

"You didn't consider the dent overkill, Johnny?" he grumbled gently.

Scott moved in to pacify his next youngest brother, the familiar territory comforting to all the boys. "You said yourself it was a good idea."

"Dents, Scott?"

"Let it go, Virge," Gordon advised.

John called their attention away. "Ah, guys?"

Alan had stepped forward, ignoring his brothers. It was dark out, cold. The pavement glistened with recent rain, the air smelled of thunder. Ozone, his mind supplied. Glancing heavenwards, Alan frowned. The earlier rain clouds had been swept away, leaving only wispy counterparts hanging in their wake, certainly not thunderstorms. The stars glittered between them, frozen in the dark sky, watching with icy distance the actions of man.

Alan shivered, drawing his coat about him tighter. It was too big for him, borrowed from a much taller brother, rock salt bullets in the pockets, Alan knew, should he care to look. His attention moved back to his brothers, now standing beside him. John and Scott flanked him, Virgil and Gordon on their other sides, each man's gaze riveted on the woman who stood on the bridge's railing. Her white dress fluttered in a breeze only she could feel, her dark hair lifting slightly also as she stared back. With an almost casual grace, she turned away and let her body fall forward.

Each and every Tracy took a step forward, as if to catch her, pull her back. Alan was aware of Scott saying something,

"Catch her!"

of Virgil replying with a shake of his head,

"There's nothing to catch!"

but he ignored them, his attention focused on the spot he'd last seen her, his mind conjuring a face, a man, someone she had known, he felt. He was dead, Alan was sure of it, although how he could have known this stranger's fate was beyond him. Then memory returned, the man solidified into a figure, as real as those of his brothers. It was Jeremy Allain, the spirit who'd found him at the wall while he had been vision questing back in Boston. His expression was twisted, pain and fury and something dark Alan couldn't identify.

Eyes glittering angrily, he moved forwards menacingly. "You have to stop her."

Alan cowered under his wrath. This was the first time this spirit had spoken to him and thinking back on the lecture Scott and Virgil had given him earlier, Alan realised he had died here, his energy stronger near the site of his death.

"Why are you doing nothing?" the spirit demanded.

Alan floundered for a reply. This was new, he'd never been forced to interact before, having previously been a passenger in someone else's memories. "I'm sorry," he whimpered.

The man's voice was a hiss, as cold as snake venom. "I was never unfaithful. I didn't deserve to die!"

Jeremy vanished and shaken, Alan joined his brothers at the spot the woman had disappeared, trying to keep calm and already knowing before they did what they'd find.

Nothing. Not a glimpse of the white figure appeared in the water below. Alan had known that, because she hadn't really been there in the first place. Not tonight, at least. She was long since gone. The smell was still strong, however, the cold still present and once more Alan hugged himself. He found himself turning towards a sudden, bright light and the engine of the car roared into life.

"Virgil?" Gordon's voice wavered just a little bit. Silently, the brunette held up his hand, keys dangling from one finger. The SUV lurched into motion.

"Run!" Scott ordered and the brothers turned, fleeing before the speeding car, forced to one side and against the railings of the bridge. With nowhere else to turn, and the thought of being trapped between speeding car and unresisting metal unappealing, the Tracy's leapt over the guardrail.

Scott and Virgil managed to distance their jumps right and each caught hold of the bridge. Virgil reached out a hand as his brothers fell past him, crying out in pain as their weight landed on his mind, their bodies caught by his hastily constructed energy field. Dangling from one arm and trying to maintain the force which held his brothers, Virgil scrambled to swing himself up so he sat on the support beam next to Scott.

His youngest brother always at the forefront of his mind, Scott used his own talents to lift the boy towards him, reaching out to tug Alan securely into his arms. To Alan, Scott felt as strong as the steel they sat upon and he was more than happy to let Scott hold him in place. He watched fearfully as Gordon and John dipped towards the river beneath them, Virgil uttering a soft groan. Scott, worried his brother could suffer a subdural haematoma, attempted to lift Gordon away as he had done with Alan, but the teenager was much bigger than the little Tracy and he was so far away he couldn't maintain his grip. Scott dropped Gordon as gently as he could, reaching one arm out to stop Virgil from toppling off his precarious seat even as the energy beneath the other boys blinked out of existence. With yells and splashes, John and Gordon fell into the river.

"Gordy!" Scott bellowed. He tugged both Virgil and Alan closer. "Are you alright? John?"

"We're fine!" John called back, much to his brother's relief.

"Oh yeah," Gordon agreed. "Just peachy."

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"But you like the water," John said, minutes later once he and Gordon were back on dry land. He was attempting to check on Virgil, who was insisting on checking the car, while trying to pacify Gordon. He wondered if this was how Scott usually felt, juggling brothers like some crazy circus act.

"Yeah, I like water," Gordon agreed. He shook his hands, scattering droplets of mud to land with a sodden splat on the asphalt. "This is not water."

John was equally messy and smelly, and Virgil was glad he'd not ended up getting wet too. He had Scott to thank for that. He glanced up. Scott stood silhouetted against the moon, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place and Virgil's mind conjured apt phrases without his say-so. Scott was a soldier of the night, a guard for the dark mistress, a jailer where moonbeams were bars and his very presence a chain. A force to be reckoned with. It was clear Virgil was going no-where until Scott said so, but the other man wasn't going to back down without a fight.

Virgil pushed the blond away gently. "I'm fine, Johnny. It's just a nose bleed."

John sighed, sitting back on his heels. He glanced up at Scott. "I'm not an expert," he reminded his older brother. "But I think he's got away with this one."

Scott was still a moment more, before he nodded slightly. Virgil climbed to his feet.

"Good. Now check out Captain Stubborn before he collapses while I take a look at what that bitch did to my car."

John sighed again. He hated getting in the way of his older brother's bickering and he'd have felt more comfortable if Virgil had looked Scott over, but he knew better than to mention it. Jeff Tracy had always insisted on his sons being able to perform basic first aid, and John was probably as qualified as the others, but Virgil had taken it that one step further. To him, the body was the same as an engine and being able to fix both was of vital importance to the mechanically minded Tracy. He glanced at Scott, wondering if 'Captain Stubborn' was going to live up to his moniker. Virgil had probably noticed something off about him, but had deemed it not serious enough to warrant his immediate attention.

Scott endured the invading penlight without fuss, grunting slightly when John diagnosed him with a mild concussion.

"How's the car?" he asked, moving towards the SUV.

Virgil straightened from the engine, turning to lean against the rim of the machine. "Well, whatever she did, its fine now."

Scott joined him, ruffling Alan's hair, who'd stuck his nose under the hood also, keen to learn more about the car. He'd shown a lasting interest in cars lately and Scott wouldn't be surprised if he'd soon be tinkering with them the way Virgil did.

"Good," he replied quietly, squinting against the headache that pounded the base of his skull. "Lets get out of here."

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Gordon drove them to the next town, away from the Sheriff and his wild theories. It was a quiet ride, Scott sleeping lightly in the backseat - the concussion not being too serious - Virgil sitting next to Alan so the boy wouldn't have to press up against John's wet clothing, leaving the stargazer riding shot gun, content with his own thoughts for company. Or someone else's, Gordon chuckled to himself.

He found his gaze drifting to the rear-view mirror, positioned not so he could see traffic behind him, but so he could watch his younger brother. There had always been something different about the kid, the way he would always know things, like when the toast was about to burn, but since this had started, there'd been something more. Something stronger, something that Gordon couldn't identify and that puzzled him.

He'd known Alan since birth, he knew every quirk and habit, he could almost predict how the boy would react in any given situation. They'd all had a hand in raising the child, they'd all left their mark on his developing personality in such a way that he seemed to encompass all of them, the best and the brightest of their own characters melded into a new form. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Alan was coming to the end of his childhood, on the edge of teenagerdom and pushing the boundaries of his own being and his brother's patience that was throwing Gordon off centre, but there was something that nagged at him.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to relax. The kid was sill Alan. He hadn't changed, he'd simply become ... more. Gordon wondered if this was how his Dad felt as his sons moved into the next stage of their lives and pitied the man, having had to sit through it four times before. Naturally, thinking of his absent father brought his mood down.

Where was he? Had he known this was going to happen? With the discovery of the wall, it appeared less likely he'd been taken away against his will, and while that was a good thing, it brought it's own troubles. Why in the world would Jeff Tracy, doting father and businessman of the year four times running, abandon his youngest son and successful company to scribble on walls in a dump like Jericho?

Gordon's eyes flickered briefly back to Alan. Had he done it simply to push Alan out of his locked down state, like some mad butterfly Dad ripping open it's offspring's cocoon ready to push the poor brat off the leaf, determinded to see his son shine and fly?

John turned to glance worriedly at him, and Gordon wondered just how much his brother had caught of that thought. He always said he didn't like reading other people, but Gordon accepted that stray bits and pieces got through time and again.

He sighed. Great. Now John was going to tell Scott he was going bananas.