Author's Notes:

I'd like to give a big shout out to Ridley's card campaign.

Second, I'd like to thank everyone for the reviews both good and bad for the last chapter. I know I said I'd be responding but between the flu that just wouldn't go away, a lightening strike that took out my cable internet connection for a couple of days, the anti-virus software from hell, and tech no-support. It's been a lousy couple of weeks.

Dedication: I'd love to say Jim's wise words in this chapter about truth and wisdom are all mine. They're not. I'd lovingly dedicate this to the wisest man I know. Not as lean, still as mean, always and forever a Marine. Happy Veteran's Day, Grandpa!

Mitakuye oyasin.

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Caleb glared.

The short Arab doctor chortled, "Should I try to pretend to be frightened?"

"It would make me feel better, Doc," Caleb retorted dryly.

"You hardly resemble a fearsome Knight right now, my friend," Mujib replied his dark eyes dancing in amusement. "In fact it looks like your temper and pride are the only things keeping you upright."

Caleb's only response was to stick his chin out and stubbornly ignore the fact the doctor was probably right.

Mujib chuckled and they both headed for the kitchen. The doctor motioned for him to have a seat. Caleb took the offered bar stool at the breakfast bar as Mujib poured them both a large cup of coffee. The doctor then placed a large plate of fresh fruit and what looked like some sort of yogurt dip in front of him.

"Here eat. Getting some calories in you will help with your headache," Mujib stated. The doctor then added a bowl of spiced nuts to the food in front of Caleb. When Caleb shot him a questioning look Mujib continued, "Psychic powers burn up a lot of energy. The more psychics use their powers the more calories they need to consume. It's the basic rules of biology."

Caleb gave the doctor a thoughtful look. He had never quite thought about psychic talent in terms of physics and energy requirements before. It was an interesting angle. He'd have to mention it to his father. "What happens if a psychic can't consume enough calories?"

"Maxim," Mujib replied and shrugged over his shoulder as he walked in another room for a moment, "Always theorized blinding migraines and weight loss at first. Next step would be increasing emotional instability leading to a complete physical collapse as the body eventually gave out." Reappearing with a book the doctor sat down across from Caleb. "But I believe Maxim's theories on psychic abilities are not the topic you truly want to discuss right now."

Caleb practically purred as the hot coffee danced across his tongue. They really knew how to make coffee like the old Turkish proverb, 'Black as hell, strong as death, and as sweet as sex' in this part of the world. "What can you tell me about the Muninn?"

Mujib took a sip of his coffee. He studied Caleb over the rim of the cup for a few moments. "We're not exactly sure what the Muninn is or how it came in to being. Its origins are completely shrouded in mystery. By legend hinted it was forged by the rings and it was the Brotherhood's equivalent of seeking the ancestors."

The doctor opened his book to a specific page and handed it to Caleb. "Vague mentions in ancient Scholar's journals state that seeking out Munnin involved a very sacred ceremony. The Guardian would ingest a mixture so he would 'have death within him'. That would then allow the Guardian to 'wade through the veil' and see events of the past. Much like hitting the play button on an answering machine analogy I used earlier."

Caleb read over the ingredients quickly and decided Deuce was never going anywhere near this shit. His ancient Latin was a little rusty but the doctor wasn't kidding when he said it was toxic. This stuff was pure poison. One miscalculation in the dosage and it would be fatal.

"Remember Caleb," Mujib added quietly, "The facet the Guardian brings to the Triad is sacrifice. To perform the ceremony, to ride the Munnin, was for the Guardian to offer the one gift that was most meaningful; himself. It was a symbolic act of sacrifice. To demonstrate the Guardian was willing to face death itself for the good of his people."

"So how did Dean manage to tap in to this thing without the ceremony and drinking this crap?"

Mujib sighed, "I truly have no idea."

Caleb narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling looking in to the doctor's dark eyes Mujib was hiding something. "So speculate, Doc." Caleb knew he was being rude and didn't care. This was not a culture that believed in ever being confrontational and direct. It was very different from the West that way.

Mujib licked his lips nervously. "Caleb…"

"I see Mujib finally moved the dead body off his dinning room table." Jim's tired voice suddenly interrupted.

"Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, show me the steep and thorny way to heaven," Mujib retorted with a smirk that didn't quite meet his eyes. Jim limped over and took a seat on a stool across from Caleb. Mujib then grumbled at the pastor, "And leave Yorick out of this."

Yorick?

Caleb groaned.

First Dean with Macbeth and now Mujib with Hamlet.

He was riding spread eagle on the luge ride straight to Shakespearean hell.

"Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar," the Pastor retorted as he looked in the direction of table with a grimace. "The dining room table is no place for that type of thing." Jim then looked at Mujib and asked, "Would you mind…"

"Leaving you two alone for a few moments?" Mujib finished. "Not at all. I need to go check on some test results."

With that the Doctor was gone.

Jim looked down at the food in front of him for a few moments. He looked up and his blue-grey eyes met Caleb's. "I overheard your phone conversation with Samuel. Don't you think you were a little harsh?"

Caleb's crossed his arms over his chest. One of the many shrinks Mac had forced him to visit as a teenager would have said he was being hostile, closed-off, and uncommunicative.

Fuck them.

"No."

The pastor then got up and motioned towards the doors leading to the garden, "Walk with me Caleb."

Caleb sighed.

He knew a command from the Guardian when he heard it.

They walked in silence, Caleb taking in the lingering scents of exotic blooms hovering in the night air. It really didn't surprise him when Jim headed straight for the fountain in the center of the garden and gestured for Caleb to have a seat next to him.

"You know? It's said that Merlin designed these gardens," Jim stated softly. "That Galahad, on his quest in Holy Land, got homesick for the green, lush, gardens of Britain. Merlin took pity on the boy and designed this desert oasis especially for him." The pastor gestured towards the fountain. It was a beautiful golden apple tree with a serpent wrapped around its base. "The more I see of Merlin's work, the more I think he and Dean would have gotten on splendidly. They both seem to share that blasphemous, impudent sense of humor."

Caleb chuckled.

He had to agree.

It did take a certain amount of Deuce level gall to put the Tree of Knowledge in the center of Eden.

The pastor stuck his hand under the fountains gentle flow. His silver ring and hair softly glowed with the waxing moon's reflection. "We have no proof your father even knew about the potential implications of his heritage much less lied to your mother about it, Caleb."

"We don't have any proof my father didn't either," Caleb fired back quietly.

"No we don't," Jim agreed gently. "But judging your father or Samuel through the lens of your anger isn't going to help the situation."

"So you approve of Sammy lying to his girlfriend about us?" He demanded.

"I never approve of lying." Jim replied calmly. "Do you remember the gully at the farm?"

"The one you ordered me not to cross?" Caleb asked raising a questioning eyebrow. Trying to figure out where the pastor was going with this.

"Indeed," Jim nodded, "We had a lot of snow that winter and you wanted to take that shortcut to get home faster. I ordered you not to and you took the short cut anyway."

Caleb nodded, "I thought since the rabbits had no problem crossing the gully, I wouldn't either. I ended up sinking in the snow over my head and you had come and pull me out with a rope."

"Do you remember what I told you after I pulled you out?"

"That I had taken my first steps towards wisdom that day," Caleb replied.

"Wisdom knows what to do with what you know, when to do it, and how to do it." Jim stated softly. "Other times wisdom is about knowing when to do nothing despite how difficult it might be. I recognized you were going to take that short cut no matter what I said, and so I didn't try to stop you. I knew it was an important lesson you had to learn for yourself."

"You did pack a rope though," Caleb sighed.

"Exactly," Jim said. "Sometimes packing a rope is all we can do. Truth is the marker along the roads we walk in life. The result of the difficult lessons we learn along the way." Then the Guardian shot him a soft look, "The worst thing about learning to yell is you lose the ability to listen, Caleb. Don't let anger take that precious gift away from you. It has taken so much away from us already." Jim looked up at the moon for a few moments before sighing, "It may take more too."

Caleb ran a tired hand over his face, "John."

"I'm afraid so," Jim replied sadly. "That's why it's vital that cooler heads prevail right now."

Caleb took a deep breath, "We are in serious trouble, Jim, if I'm considered one of the cooler heads around here. I am so pissed at both Sammy and John right now I want to hit both of them."

Jim smiled, "All I'm asking, my dear boy, is when the time comes, pack a rope."

"Yeah, but I might be more tempted to strangle both of them with it."

Caleb felt Dean's return to consciousness skip across his mind like a stone across a pond.

Then Dean's scream pierced the night.