Author's Notes:
Again I'd like to give a big shout out to Ridley's card campaign.
Be sure to spread the holiday cheer!
I'm also breaking this chapter up because it's a monster.
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Leaving Jim and Caleb alone for a few moments as requested. Dr. Mujib Raji headed for his study and the telephone. He closed the door, so he wouldn't be disturbed. He then dialed a well memorized long distance number.
"I received your earlier message, Mujib" The weary voice of Dr. Mackland Ames, the current Scholar of the Brotherhood, came on the line. "Are you sure after what happened everyone is alright?"
"Perhaps," He replied cautiously. "Are you on a secure line?"
"I am now." The Scholar sounded slightly annoyed at the secrecy.
"Where are you?"
"Kentucky," Mackland informed him. "I'm at the farm scanning old hunter's journals."
"I need you in New York first thing in the morning to receive a parcel I overnighted to you. The package contains various blood samples. You will understand why I'm being cautious once you see who the blood belongs too," Mujib informed him. "We're being watched here, and I don't have the proper equipment to run the necessary tests. I didn't want to risk an outside lab."
"Exactly what should I looking for in these blood samples, Mujib?"
"Death within," The Arab doctor answered grimly. "For Jim's sake, I hope I'm wrong about this."
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The dungeon stank like a choking combination of old blood, pain, and fear.
His body was a mass of agony. His tormenter's cold eyes look down at him. His half ruined face only made him look more sinister. "Tell me where the Staff of Isis is." The ropes around his wrist and ankles tighten more as the rack once again threatens to pull him apart.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." he gasped as he fought down a scream. "I know nothing of a staff."
"You're a liar, heretic, and a witch, 'Guardian'."
His only response was to spit in his captor's general direction.
The other man smiled menacingly, "Should I add enjoying being the guard's bitch to your long list of sins? Maybe I can take you off the rack and give you back to them to enjoy for a while longer? Maybe that will loosen your tongue."
"Go to hell."
The priest leaned in and whispered softy. The tone was oily, and tainted with evil. "I know you have the Staff of Isis. I know you and your men found it buried deep in the ruins of King Solomon's Temple." The priest pulled on the lever and he heard the sickening sound of cartridge giving and a joint popping. "End your torment. Tell me where you sent the Scholar to hide it."
He remained deathly silent.
His tormentor gave him that chilling smile again. "Somehow, I knew that would be your answer." Then the priest barked out to the guards on the other side of the door, "Bring him."
The bottom of his stomach fell out when the guards dragged in the struggling form of the Knight.
Soon the stench of burning human flesh became gagging. The screams of the Knight intermingled and merged with Jim Murphy's and Caleb Reaves's.
Blood flowed like a river.
Dean Winchester bolted awake screaming.
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Caleb was the first to reach Dean's room.
Dean was sitting upright in the bed. Caleb quickly scanned the dim room for hidden threats and found none. That didn't make him feel any better. Dean was hyperventilating and completely unaware of where he was. Bruises were standing out in spectacular array on one side of his pale face.
Shit.
Not good.
How hard had Dean hit his head?
"Deuce?" he called softly, hoping to reach the figure in the middle of the bed. Caleb approached carefully. He knew Dean had his knife stashed somewhere within easy reach. The kid felt naked unarmed. The last thing Caleb needed was for Dean to lash out in his dazed condition and try to slit his throat.
"Watch the hands. Hands kill."
John Winchester's voice rang through his head as he wearily approached his best friend. Dean's hands were deadly and lightening fast as a cobra's strike. When Dean was in this state you approached warily. Twenty-six stitches had taught him that lesson the hard way.
"Deuce?" he tried again as he got a little closer. "Can you hear me?"
The flat green eyes blinked and the hyperventilating stopped. "Damien?"
"Yeah," Caleb replied as he oh-so-carefully climbed up on the edge of Dean's bed.
Dean started shaking. He hoarsely muttered, "No. No. I saw them burn you. They wanted to know where the Staff of Isis was hidden. I couldn't tell. I watched them burn you alive." Dean gagged, "The smell… Oh, God…it was like the night Mom..."
"Deuce." Caleb carefully reached out and grabbed Dean's chin. The icy chill from his friend's skin frightened him a little. "Look at me. I'm right here. It was all a bad dream."
"Dream?" Dean's green eyes blinked again.
He nodded. "Do I look dead to you?"
Dean shivered, and shook his head.
Caleb let go of Dean's chin. Then he, cautiously, so as not to make any sudden moves, carefully pulled the blanket up around Dean's shoulders. "Do you know where you are?"
"Not in the prison?"
Prison?
Okay. He definitely needed to check for a concussion.
Caleb tucked the blanket around Dean's shoulders a little tighter and checked his pupils. They were both even. No signs of a concussion. But damned if the kid wasn't so pale he was practically translucent. "No, you're not in the prison. What's the last thing you remember?"
Dean had to think about it for a few moments, "Glowing rings and a bright light?"
Caleb nodded, "Anything else?"
Dean took a deep breath, and his jade green eyes suddenly came totally back to life, "No, just the giant bug zapper and your usual pansy-ass whining. Dude, have you never heard of personal space?"
Trying not to let the relief filter into his voice, Caleb beat-hell to the edge of the bed before this situation became a blackmail-able chick-flick moment. "What is it with my bad-ass vibe lately? First Mujib and now you."
"It's the hair, Damien," Dean informed him tiredly. The kid was really trying to put up his normal cocky front. "No one's scared of a want-to-be 80's reject. Everyone knows it's the decade where wuss met rock."
Yup. It was nice to have Deuce, slayer of awkward moments, back.
Jim appeared in the doorway with Mujib following right behind him. The pastor scanned them both with his eyes and quickly asked, "Are you both all right?"
Caleb nodded, "Took you long enough."
The pastor shrugged as he slid his gun away, "Don't get old."
Dean looked at Jim. Then he turned and glared at Caleb. He caught Deuce grimacing and slightly favoring his left side when he did it. Caleb made note to check that later. Even if he had to hold Dean down and tie him to the bed to do it. "Why isn't Jim wearing his knee brace?"
Caleb shot Jim a curious look, "How can you tell?"
"By the way he's limping, Dumb-ass." Dean smacked him weakly. "I told you to watch him like a hawk and make sure he wears the damned thing."
Jim scowled and his blue-grey eyes got stormy. "Don't start, Dean. And stop redirecting from you."
Dean's eyes flashed emerald fire right back, "Then wear the brace. Mac said you need to start taking better care of yourself."
Kettle, I'd like you to meet Pot. Pot, I'd like you to meet Kettle.
Dean must have read that thought plainly on his face because Dean smacked him again, "Not one word, Damien."
Caleb glanced over at Mujib who must have been thinking the same thing. Mujib, on the other hand, was being very unsuccessful at hiding his amusement. Jim shot his friend a warning look, "Not one word from you either."
"Now, why would I say anything?" Mujib responded innocently.
"Exactly why do I put up with you, Deuce?" Caleb griped good-naturedly as he reached out and pulled the blanket around his friend a little tighter. "You puked on me while we waited to board our plane."
"How is getting puked on abnormal for you? It's the common reaction once people get to know you."
"Boys, don't start." Jim interjected.
Ignoring the pastor Caleb continued, "Then you unapologetically passed out and drooled all over me for the ten hour plane trip over here."
"Hey Fucktard, you're the one that slipped me the damned roofie," Dean countered saluting him with his middle finger.
"Dean! Watch your gestures and the language," Jim ordered.
"Oh, I haven't heard anything like this since Julian and Maxim together." Mujib managed to choke out to Jim through his mirth. "You always played very unsuccessful referee for them too." There were tears rolling down his face.
Jim glared at Mujib. "What did I say about not one word?"
Mujib's only response was to laugh harder.
Caleb then added, "You never listen to a damned word I say."
"Huh?" Dean said innocently. "What did you say? I wasn't paying attention."
Caleb heard a body hit a wall and slide down to the floor laughing. He was pretty sure it was Mujib. Especially since he heard the Pastor growl, "What part of not one word didn't you understand? And it's not that funny. Get control of yourself."
"To top that off, you hired me Genghis, the secretary from Hell." Caleb accused.
"Boys!" Jim snapped. Then once again playing referee,"Caleb, Jan's a very sweet person. That's not nice."
"Excuse me?" Caleb fired back. "My entire construction crew and half the Brotherhood is terrified of her. She is a six-foot, tattooed, ex-biker grandmother of two. I'm almost positive she was a Hell's Angel enforcer."
"Jan is an ass-kicking secretary," Dean responded indignantly. "She has hands-on work experience at dispensing with unwanted distractions quickly and effectively. And I didn't hear any complaints about me hiring her or her skill at responding to high-stress situations with a 9 mm when the zombie tried to eat you."
"She blew the zombie's balls off." Caleb raised an eyebrow, "Who the hell lists, labels, and color-codes by order of importance besides socially inadequate, control-freaks? That only proves the woman is a psychopath."
A choked, "Please stop" came from the floor.
"Mac does," Dean answered matter-of-fact. "Your father thinks she's a miracle worker. Since we actually could find your desk after she was finished with your office."
Caleb snorted, "That's only because she rats out my activities to him constantly and Dad didn't read her résumé. Under future goals and aspirations she wrote 'Killing my Ex-Son-in-law'."
"She plots downsizing moves carefully."
"Boys!" Jim barked.
"All I know is she worships you. That should have been my first clue she was a list-wielding, office-organizing, peanut-butter-cookie-baking, artistic-vibe-destroying ball of pure malevolence," Caleb deadpanned as he watched Dean shiver. He placed his hand on the side of Dean's face to check his temperature.
"Damien, what did I tell you about personal space?" Deuce croaked as he squirmed out of reach. "If you want to embrace the Haiku-spewing, touchie-feelie crap go pull out your inflatable girlfriend."
Jim must have caught Dean's shiver too because he roared, "Enough!" Caleb swore the walls vibrated. The room suddenly became silent.
"Are you done?" Jim asked, exasperated, to the figure on the floor.
Before Caleb could blink, in one smooth move, Mujib was on his feet.
Caleb did a double take at the Doctor's speed. It was the first time Caleb had really seen the hunter carefully hidden behind the Doctor's cheerfully, easy-going, academic exterior. He remembered vaguely Jim telling him about how presenting a cheerful front was a cultural thing here. It was rooted not only in the dessert tribe's hospitality traditions, but was also considered a vital part of Charity, one of the Five Pillars of Islam. They firmly believed you should never burden another with troubles if you could help it.
It suddenly occurred to Caleb that since he had regained consciousness the Arab doctor had been working awfully hard at being cheerful.
Without a doubt, Mujib was hiding something from them.
Continued in Part B- Coming Soon