Author's Notes:

It's been a LONG time between updates. I know it. And don't worry I've heard about it too. Right Rid?

All I can do is apologize and say there was a VERY good reason for it. My Beta and I have been scratching around for a MAJOR plot point in this story trying to be original. We're not MD's and it took us some time and research.

Decanus- Dean's name in Latin.

I'm tagging a language warning on this chapter. There are a few nasty words in here.

The fountain turned out to be nothing but a pit of frustration.

With Zack's tweaking and ground penetrating radar we could see underneath the dragon fountain and the entrance to something.

The problem?

We still had NO idea what the hell it was or how to access it.

That's how I ended up glaring at the lab computer screen cursing a blue streak that would make my veteran Marine mentor proud. I'm a competitive bastard. I'm a damned fine architect. I know it. I hate to lose and Merlin's design was kicking my ass.

It pissed me off.

Fuck the Sorcerer of Camelot.

It was time to go for the explosives and to play a little 'Open-Says-Me' with that fountain.

A sudden warning itch between my shoulder blades caused me to look up from the screen to a set of blue eyes studying me.

I glared at Zack.

I wasn't in the mood to be nice or even mildly polite. I was still mad at Deuce for not cluing me in about his suspicions Zack was Jim's son. I was honest enough to know the blue-haired image specialist was probably getting the blunt of that displeasure too. "Yes?"

Something about Zack bugged me. I couldn't put my finger on why. Jealousy at the fact Deuce finally found a friend his own age? No. Yes. How the fuck should I know? Zack just set off this low grade buzz of warning. It made my skin prickle. He gave me a headache.

Zack licked his lips. Then he shot a nervous glance over his shoulder. "Dean made me promise not to tell the Guardian. He doesn't want Jim to worry."

"Promise not to tell Jim what?" I was suddenly feeling very cold.

Zack ran a hand over his face and looked at the door again. "Dean has a scrape that's still bleeding from your throw down with Nate. Dude, I've caught him changing the bandage twice."

My earlier annoyance with Zack suddenly evaporated. And I did a quick mental inventory of the injuries I had seen when I had helped Dean get dressed earlier. Nothing but some bruising and some minor cuts and scrapes as far as I could see. "Did Deuce forget to mention he needs stitches again?"

"No." Zack shook his head. "It's just a scratch on his arm. You wouldn't think anything of it glancing at it. It just hasn't stopped bleeding yet." Then he looked at the doorway again like he worried Dean could walk in at any moment. Who knew? Zack could be sneaky. There might be something that didn't annoy me about the boy. "But you didn't hear it from me, Dude."

I smiled. It wasn't nice. "You've got a minute to get clear."

Zack grinned back and grabbed his Mountain Dew on the lab table. "Don't have to warn me twice. I'm getting out of the fall out zone." Then the younger hunter bolted up the cellar stairs.

I silently counted to ten.

If I hadn't been so worried about Dean I probably would have marched in and throttled him on the spot. Deuce was always pulling this shit. The problem was I WAS worried. Dean had felt off for a while. Add that in with the flu Deuce couldn't seem to shake, the favoring his side, the bruising. It was all pointing to something bad.

Very bad.

I stood up, took a deep breath to center myself, and then roared.

"Deuce!"

"This is your fault."

I grunted and shrugged at my best friend who sat on the hospital bed. The allegation rolled off my back like water off a duck's. I wasn't going to deny it. It was true and sometimes it was best to let Dean rant.

It made life simpler.

Stealing a glance at the clock and wondering where the hell the doctor was with those test results made me wonder if 'simple' was a word we were going to be associating with life ever again.

Dean hugged his knees to this chest. He hymned a tune I didn't recognize under his breath. It was odd. It sounded almost medieval. The melody for some reason made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Deuce gave his IV and the bag of blood dripping in to his arm a disgusted look. "I'm fine." I wondered who Deuce was trying to convince us or himself.

Jim glanced up from the book he was reading. He sent Dean a scathing look that had sent John Winchester scrambling for cover more than once. "Your red blood count is dangerously low. That's hardly fine."

When we arrived the doctors had taken one look at the red cell count and tried to figure out how Dean could still be on his feet. That's why the easy bruising was happening. It was also why his scratch wasn't clotting. Deuce simply didn't have the red blood cells to do the job.

The question we were sitting around waiting for the doctors to answer was why?

Did the Muninn do this or did the Muninn sense something that was already there?

It was a moot point about piling us all on to a plane back to the States anyway. It was my first instinct. Get home. Go to ground. Find Mac. But as low as Deuce's blood count was he wasn't physically fit to fly.

Dean opened his mouth to say something.

Jim intercepted by jerking his hand up. It was a signaled take cover because old Astorim was about to toast someone. "Not one more word Dean Matthew. You're staying put. I could give a flying dozen FIGS about how John Winchester would handle the situation. I'm here. He's not. Is that VERY clear young man?"

That pretty much summed up Dean's entire life, I thought bitterly.

Sometimes that was the wonderful thing about Jim, other times it was the most annoying. Once the Guardian had his mind set, fighting with him was like standing on the beach yelling at the tide. Trust me. I've tried it. Jim wouldn't be turned back. Fighting with him didn't do you any good.

While I was at it, I sent a few nasty thoughts John's way about him not picking up his fucking phone.

I maliciously hoped I managed to give him a head-splitting migraine too.

The Bastard.

Petty? Me?

Nah.

An infuriated green gaze settled on me. I was Dean's easiest target and someone was apparently getting very restless. "Assume a virtue if you have it not."

I shot Deuce an amused smile. "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

"Boys," Jim sighed.

"Thou art like the toad, ugly and venomous." Dean fired back.

"Oh that stung, Deuce." It's sad. Deuce and I have insult theme weeks and we have the nerve to call Sammy 'geek'. "Thou mammering tardy-gaited bum-bailey."

Mujib looked up from the book he was studying. His dark eyes danced with amusement at the Shakespeare. "Oh, that was a good one."

"Please don't encourage them." Jim pinched his nose tiredly. "I barely made it through Haiku week."

That's when Zack walked in to the hospital room carrying some beverages. He shot everyone a concerned look. "I brought tea." He announced as he handed each of us a paper cup.

I took the offered cup.

Hospitality customs and all that crap.

People in this part of the world didn't appreciate that coffee wasn't just a dessert but a lifestyle. They saw coffee as an after dinner treat and not as a beverage of choice. Tea was their first choice. It was a custom I did not embrace. Jim and Mujib on the other hand took a big sip with appreciative smiles. I'd play nice and ditch the tea later.

Dean sighed, hugged his knees closer and laid his head on top of them. Then he started hymning that strange melody again.

"You okay over there, Deuce?"

"Peachy," Dean grumbled not bothering to lift his head. "I feel like shit. Thanks for asking."

Zack shot Dean a look of pity. "I got Mountain Dew, Man. You want some?"

"Oh, God no," Dean moaned.

I knew that sound.

I jumped to my feet. I grabbed the basin right next to the bed. I stuck it under Deuce's nose just in time as what little in his stomach came back up. Blood transfusions always made Dean nauseous. The only bright spot was at least this time he was coherent for the transfusion.

"You want me to go find something to settle your stomach?" I asked softly.

Deuce shook his head. Green eye filled with misery met mine. "No. I want you to hold still so I can aim for your boots."

"Your ability to think of others first never ceases to amaze me," I replied sarcastically.

"You always want me to share, Damien."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to go look for your doctor."

It was Deuce's turn to snort. "You're ditching me to find coffee in teetotaling hell. You better bring me some back. While you're at it, bring me back a red-head and two blondes too."

Only Deuce would be demanding coffee at a time like this.

"Ah, I can see those rising blood levels are finally hitting your brain."

"Tell me about it," Deuce groused. "My caffeine levels are tanking as we speak. I don't think my system will be able to cope."

I patted him on the shoulder and handed the basin to Jim. "I'll see what I can do."

As I walked out of the room I caught sight of Sal out of the corner of my eye. He nodded to me in acknowledgement as I passed. Seeing the big burly Jewish weapons master standing guard made me feel better. Jim wasn't taking any chances. I didn't know Sal personally but he was one name John gave me as an emergency contact just in case. Muscle is muscle. It's like extra ammo in a shoot-out. You can never have too much.

Sal shook his head as I happily dumped Zack's tea down the nearest water fountain.

There was one thing about this part of the world I loved.

Their beverage of choice might suck but no one gave me any second glances as I strolled down the halls looking for Deuce's doctor.

Despite how many people think 'Creole' and 'Cajun' is the same thing. It's not. My mother's family was originally from Haiti. That heritage was reflected in the faith my grandmother practiced and my olive skin color. In some parts of the States you take me out of a designer suit and put me behind the wheel of an expensive car and I went from Caleb Reaves respected architect and CEO to 'probable cause'.

John got it right with Sammy. One thing I couldn't fault his parenting style for. Sammy had traveled so much and seen so many different kinds of people in his life he never noticed. It was a blessing and a curse. Sam never saw skin color, only people, but he never saw how some people got treated differently because of their skin color either.

Deuce saw it.

He always had. The hypocrisy made Dean mutiny against 'normal'. It also caused him to be a little too wise and a little too jaded for his years. I was the reason for more than one beat-each-others-head-in fight between brothers about Sam's envy for 'normal' through the years.

I honestly wondered if it was a chasm the brothers were ever going to be able to bridge.

I had just spotted Dean's doctor and was about to turn a corner to follow him when my ring started to vibrate.

I stared down at the ring on my finger. A cold shot of horror ran up my back.

Nate!

I spun on my heel and bolted down the hall towards Deuce's room.

Sal's body was the first sight that greeted me. I knelt down and checked for a pulse. I knew it was a wasted effort. Sal didn't have any visible weapon wounds but the dead staring eyes and the blood leaking from the nose and ears told me everything I needed to know.

Damn it!

I closed his eyes as a final gesture of respect to a fellow Hunter.

I didn't even bother to draw my gun as I headed in Dean's room. I didn't worry about trying to cloak my presence either. Nate had already demonstrated it was a useless waste of energy. Nate knew I was here and he knew I was coming. Besides you don't want bullets flying around near civilians unless you can possibly avoid it. Bullets traveled through plaster and bounced off concrete walls too damned easy. The last thing you want to do is kill someone innocent who happened to be unlucky enough to be in the crossfire.

I did a dive roll in to the room.

I landed on my feet in a crouching position and took stock of the scene in front of me.

Jim and Mujib were both on the ground not moving but they were breathing. Kudos. Zack was trying to hold down a struggling Deuce. Dean's IV was on the ground dripping. Nate was calmly standing there studying my entrance.

"Damien run!" Dean shouted at me.

Nate shot me a look like he tasted me and loved what danced across his tongue. "Such power. John Winchester has trained you well, Hound."

"Let Dean go, Zack," I ordered. My gun wouldn't work against Nate but I had no problem putting a bullet between Zack's eyes.

Nate tilted his head. "Would you honestly kill another member of Brotherhood that coldly?"

"Read my mind, Asshole and find out." Then I gestured down at Jim and Mujib. "Did you kill them too?"

"No," Nate replied amused. "Zack merely drugged them. I got what I came here for. I plan to leave them for Janfar."

Suddenly that warning tickle I always got from Zack made sense. "You mind fucked Zack royally didn't you? Mind wiped him and sent him in as a sleeper to kill Jim. Everything else was a ruse to cover your real plans."

"Yes." Nate's lips tipped upward. I felt myself get lifted off my feet and pinned against a wall. "Guardian must kill Guardian for the Brotherhood to truly die. I planned for James' return for a very long time."

It seems that Deuce wasn't the only one that had thought Zack was the next Guardian and Jim had hidden him away here for safety.

Gee, sometimes life royally fucked the best laid plans.

Nate stared at me. It was more the gaze a leopard would give you from behind the bars of the zoo. A look that said he didn't even see you as human just a threat to deal with or something to snack on.

"But my net caught something much more interesting, however. Didn't it Decanus?" He gave Dean a look a man dying of thirst might give a desert spring. Any sane person would have run screaming in the other direction. With a quick twitch of Nate's head Zack let go and Dean levitated off the bed. "The first true Munnin rider in over three hundred years."

"Let me go, "Deuce growled. "And I'll show you how interesting I can be."

"Temper, temper," Nate mocked. "I have need of your services."

"I'm only helping send you straight to hell." Then Dean looked Nate straight in the eye and gave him an icy smile. Then he said the formal words, "The Right of Vidar no longer protects you Natas St. Clair. Before the Brotherhood and by the power of the Triad, as a wearer of the silver band, I declare and claim the right of self defense. In other words, Asshole, I'm now free to kill your sorry ass anyway I see fit."

Nate threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Dean you truly are a delight. I understand why James holds you in such high regard. A long awaited breath of fresh air the Brotherhood so desperately needs. For that alone I'm going to let the young Knight live. But now I need you both to sleep."

I felt the over-powering mental command slice through my shields and drag me down towards unconsciousness.

Oh yeah, we were so screwed.