Chapter 5 Preparations for a council

I'm back. Usual disclaimers apply. This might be a little slow-paced at the start. Apparently, I can't stop analyzing what's in the characters' heads instead of focusing on action. Prepare to meet some familiar and original characters. Enjoy.

Jody Mills' place

"What the hell, Sam?"

Well, it wasn't as if Sam hadn't expected some kind of explosion. Dean might have been less inclined to overreact – or, maybe, he trusted Sam more these days – but his little brother confessing out of the blue his psychic abilities might be returning was something Dean would never take lightly.

"I mean – visions? How can you be having visions now?"

Sam could read between the lines. If his visions had come from Yellow Eyes and the demon blood – how could he be having them now?

"Maybe it's got something to do with that Mark of Cain thing," Sam said musingly. "Maybe it's latched onto me."

Dean's eyes turned hard.

"Why would it?"

Sam smiled tersely.

"I was Lucifer's vessel. I doubt this is the kind of stuff that ever goes away. And if this guy is so deeply into dark stuff – maybe we're latching onto each other without even realizing it."

Dean studied Sam for a while, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the whole truth. Eventually, he looked away.

"Well," he said in the end, "This guy is Ivan Lukassen and, according to Garth, even before the Mark of Cain he was a total dickwad."

Dean filled Sam in on what happened at Garth. To his surprise, Sam was not as horrified about Ivan's actions as Dean expected him to be.

"I don't know, Dean," he said at length. "I mean, yeah, Ivan wasn't exactly perfect, but they haven't made the person who's never made mistakes."

Dean snorted.

"We've made mistakes, Sam. We've always tried to fix them."

Sam was silent for a very long time. Dean thought he had made his case. Then, Sam frowned.

"Maybe that's what he's trying to do,"

Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"He made a mistake. He killed his brother. Now he's trying to fix that. Whatever it takes."

Sam stared long and hard at Dean. This was something Dean could understand. He who spent his entire life trying to keep Sam safe and alive could surely understand.

"Maybe," Dean said uncompromisingly. "Either way, he's going about it the wrong way."

Sam refrained from pointing out that so had they, countless of times. Instead, he decided it was time to change the subject.

"So," he said, clearing his throat. "A Hunter Council. Hasn't been one in a hundred years. Think we can get them here?"

"Garth can pull it off," Dean said convinced. "You'll see. We'll have as many Hunters here as possible by Friday."

Orion 7

The hotel room was dark and quiet. Max let himself in, trying not to make too much noise. It was imperative for him not to be discovered. His life depended on it. He held his breath, but he could not hear anything. Relieved, he took a few steps forward. He was in the middle of the room when the lights turned on, nearly blinding him.

"Really, Max? Did you seriously think you could get away with that?"

Max took a step back.

"Alicia, I can explain."

The girl sitting on one of the beds tilted her head, her eyebrows raised.

"You don't have to explain – I know exactly what happened. You took my ship to impress some dude. Now, what would he say if he knew it actually belongs to your sister?"

Max shrugged, grinning cheekily.

"He'd thank you for your part in tonight's entertainment."

Alicia looked mildly horrified. She lifted her palms in an I-positively-absolutely-do-not –want –to-know gesture. Max chuckled.

"What are you doing up anyway? I thought you'd be sleeping by now."

"Oh, I was. Then Garth called."

Max went to hang his coat.

"We have a case?" he asked distractedly.

Alicia smirked. This was going to floor her brother.

"Actually, we have a Council," she said, and then paused, for effect before declaring. "The Winchesters are calling us."

Max stopped in his tracks.

"The Winchesters? Aren't they retired? They're practically civilians now."

Alicia rolled her eyes.

"You just keep telling yourself that." Her smirk faded, and she looked worriedly at Max. "Garth would not give details, but he did say it was about…well, about Ivan Lukassen."

Max stiffened, his eyes growing dark. Alicia sighed.

"If you want to talk…" she began haltingly.

Max snorted.

"What is there to talk about?" he exclaimed. "That I liked someone and now he's dead, and I'd really like to wring Ivan Lukassen's neck? That's what you want me to say?"

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. Alicia remained staring after him.

"That would be a start," she said softly.

Drazi homeworld

Phil Wilson ran through the stony landscape. He heard a loud boom at one point, but did not look back. He knew what that meant – he had succeeded in blowing up the cave that bound the vengeful spirit to that place. The problem was, when the Drazi authorities found out, there was bound to be retribution. Drazi were fond of their caves, called them sacred. Phil scoffed irreverently. These aliens were all the same –superstitious and irrational to a fault. And ungrateful. Phil didn't even bother, usually, with supernatural events on non-human worlds. He thought it was their mess to deal with. But he owed a favor to another hunter. Plus, he liked blowing things up on alien worlds. It reminded him of the good old days.

His ship was waiting for him in the clearing. He jumped in and took off. He was relieved to see the planet growing smaller under him. Unnatural places, alien planets were. Phil could not wait to be back in human-controlled space. Of course, there was nothing completely human-controlled anymore, was there? Not with the bloody Interstellar Alliance, sticking its nose in everything for all their claims to allowing sovereignty. You could not have independence with the blasted Rangers breathing down your neck all the time. He gritted his teeth. Thinking about Rangers brought an entirely different anger in him. He still could not get over the betrayal of his own flesh and blood joining a Minbari-led organization.

Only when he had already set the coordinates for Orion 7, did he notice he had an incoming message from Garth. He played it, listening to it incredulously. Then he played it again, to see if he heard correctly. Then again, just to vent his anger at it. He could not believe his ears. He had half a mind to call Garth and tell him he could go to hell and the Winchesters could stick their council where the sun did not shine. They weren't Hunters anymore. They had no right to call for a Hunter council.

But he didn't do it. He scoffed at his own sentimentality, especially for someone who did not deserve it. But…Sam and Dean Winchesters were Rangers, too. They knew about Ralph. Phil had lost track of his son a few years back – did not know if he was alive or dead. Maybe…well…maybe they could give him news. For all he told to anyone who would listen, he had no son anymore…he still wanted to know.

He cursed his weakness. Ralph did not deserve his concern. That did not stop him from changing the destination to Mars.

Mars. Jody Mills' place

Dean talked to Ralph on Jody Mills' communicator. Reports from the Anlashok front were disconcerting. Things were quiet since Llewellyn was killed. No other strange deaths had taken place – as far as they knew. The quiet, Dean thought, was not good, and Ralph agreed with him.

"There's something beneath all this," Ralph said. "People are worried – those who know a thing or two about what's out there. They say something's moving. Not just one thing, though. It's like the entire supernatural world is gathering its forces. Like they know a blow's going to fall and they want to be ready to move in quickly."

Which tallied with what Cas and Crowley had already said. Dean was not pleased.

"The Council might help, I suppose," Ralph said uncertainly.

Hunters working together on a large scale was not common. Most had strong personalities and stubborn characters. They did not take orders gladly and they did not like to be contradicted. Not to mention that they held plenty of grudges among themselves.

"I want you at the Council," Dean told Ralph. "Be here on Friday."

Ralph's eyes widened.

"But…I'm not a Hunter, Dean. I've never been much of one."

Dean waved that aside.

"We need a liaison. Someone who knows both Hunters and Rangers. You're it. Sammy's squaring it with Delenn, in case you're worried you might be overstepping anything."

Ralph hesitated. Dean saw the pinched look on his face and guessed the question the young man did not dare to ask.

"Phil Wilson hasn't confirmed he was coming, Ralph," Dean said cautiously. "He hasn't said he wasn't, though."

Ralph's face grew even tighter. Dean wondered if Ralph had any idea what he wanted – for his father to be at the Council, or for him not to be. Either way, this was bound to be hard on him.

"Look, man," he began, "I'm guessing this isn't going to be easy for you and we have no right to ask…"

But then he stopped, seeing Ralph's previously lost look vanish, determination taking its place. Ralph had his own brand of stubbornness, Dean remembered. He had even as a kid – probably that was why he had taken to the Winchesters so quickly. He served the Rangers without complaint. If Dean thought him being there would help both Hunters and Rangers, he would damn well be there – at whatever personal cost to himself.

"I'll see you and Sam on Friday," he announced, ending the transmission.

Dean stared at the blank screen. Sam was not there, so he could allow his mask to slip for a little while. He could allow himself to worry – and wonder. He wondered which of them would be alive at the end of this current crisis – and hoped very much he could be able to hold on to his circle of friends and family, both old and new.