Hope you're all enjoying the rest of your weekend (or that you had a great one, depending on where you are in the world). Only two more chapters to go without this one. I'm telling you, this story took on a life of its own and took control of itself long ago. I'd actually had something entirely different planned at the beginning. But this works better.

Chapter 21

Something was happening. They could both feel it. Their sister had been hidden from them, but now she was close by.

"In the hands of the guardian," the fox demon muttered. "Our poor sister is in the hands of the guardian."

"If we are not careful…" the snake demon hissed.

But they had to be careful. And they had to be smart. Things were suddenly not looking good for them, but that did not mean the Guardian and the Men of Letters had won. No, there were many things the two of them had up their sleeves. And they were sure the shaman was the key to them. If he fell, the Guardian would be lost. And they would be free.

xxxXXXxxx

Gwydion took the four back to the Bunker. Dean noticed Sam watching him uncertainly. He ignored him. He did not want to hash up Lisa and Ben with Sam while they had an audience. Hopefully, Sam would understand and simply drop it – for now.

Sam was not one to drop something, though. He waited until Dean had gone to clean up and shower. Once he was back in his room, Sam was there.

"Listen," Dean said. "If I want to find someone in my room after I come back from the shower, it's usually a cute redhead, not you."

Sam, however, did not want to take the bait. He did not even crack a smile at Dean's quip.

"Dean…" he began.

The pain in his voice, the compassion, angered Dean. What right had Sam to show him any of that when he had been the one to hide something so monumental from Dean in the first place?

"Don't, Sam," he said harshly. "You really don't want to hear what I've got to say right now."

Sam shook his head.

"Dean, I know this must have been…"

Dean took a few steps until he was in Sam's space.

"Must have been what, Sam? How could you hide this from me? You should have told me the moment you found out."

Sam turned away and mumbled something. Dean frowned.

"What?"

He saw Sam's shoulders tense. Something was telling Dean to drop it, that it didn't matter, it wouldn't bring back Lisa and Ben, and with the Trials Dean didn't even know how much time he had with Sam. So why waste it like this? But the part of him that had always bristled at betrayal, that had expected 100% loyalty from those around him, could not let it go.

"Exactly what reason did you have this time for keeping things from me?"

Sam turned to face him. There was no expression on his face.

"You weren't there," he said. "When I found out about Lisa and Ben. You were in…I thought you were dead yourself."

This again? Dean thought wearily.

"Well, you must've noticed by now I'm not. What stopped you from telling me the moment you saw me?"

Sam looked at him pointedly.

"Do you remember how you were when you first got back?"

The question angered Dean even further.

"So what? You thought I was too fragile? Really, Sam? Was that why you made decisions for me without my permission?"

Sam recoiled.

"As if you've never been guilty of that yourself," he accused.

Dean shook his head.

"This isn't about me and you, Sam."

Sam scoffed.

"That's the thing, Dean," he pointed out. "It always is. And I was going to tell you."

"When?" Dean insisted. "When you could decide if you trusted me enough?"

The question seemed to deflate Sam's anger. He looked hurt.

"It was never about trust, Dean."

But Dean was on a roll. He could not forget the image of Lisa and Ben and what they might have gone through – and no one had known.

"Then what was it about, Sam? You ask me to trust you – and how can you have the guts to ask for trust when you go behind my back like this? Again? It's like the return from Hell all over again, Sam. You keeping secrets."

Sam's face grew stony.

"Is that what you think?" he asked flatly.

"Well what else am I supposed to think? You want me to give you the benefit of the doubt, Sam, then earn it!"

He shook his head and strode out of the room, glad that Sam was not following him. He had not missed the flash of hurt on Sam's face. He knew he would be sorry about it later. But he could not feel anything now.

xxxXXXxxx

Back in the library, Blair was sitting in a chair, stunned by the news that he would have to die. He wanted to deny it, wanted to say it might be a mistake, but he knew better. Something – maybe his shaman's instincts – were telling him plainly that there needed to be a sacrifice. And, apparently, that was him.

"He knew," he said. "My grandfather knew."

"Probably," Jim agreed curtly.

"That is why he cut contact with Mum."

Jim nodded.

"Quite likely."

The thought made Blair feel even more shell-shocked.

"He was trying to protect me."

Jim scoffed.

"He didn't do a very good job, did he? Otherwise he would not have given you that warehouse."

That was the part Blair did not understand. What made his grandfather change his mind?

"We have the boxes," he said. "I suppose we've got to do what we're supposed to do. Right?"

Jim glared at him.

"Sandburg, I swear to God…"

"Don't," Gwydion interrupted, sounding bored. "He doesn't like it when you swear to him."

Jim turned his anger on him.

"You said you had a way to make sure Sandburg didn't die."

Gwydion shook his head.

"You misunderstood me, champ."

Jim clenched his fists.

"Don't start with me, Gwydion."

He made a move towards the demon, but Blair grabbed him and held him back.

"You don't want to antagonize him," he warned.

Gwydion smirked in his direction. It reminded Blair of the spiders. He did not think he would ever be able to tell Jim about that – not that he was going to be given too many chances, he was supposed to die soon, after all.

"Blair has to die," Gwydion said. "That can't be helped."

Well, he'd done it once already, Blair thought morose. How bad could it be a second time?

"However, he won't stay dead. Not if we do this right."

Blair felt a small hint of hope.

"So, you mean Jim could bring me back? Like last time?"

He noticed Jim's discomfort and shook his head.

"Hey, you did it once, man."

Jim grimaced.

"I don't know if I really did anything."

"You used your animal spirit," Blair reminded him. "And you called forth mine. And we…I don't know. Merged."

Jim snorted.

"Sandburg, if you keep talking like this, you'll fuel all the rumors at the station. Vera in records already thinks we're a couple."

Because what else was she supposed to think when Jim informed her Blair's name was now on the deeds of his apartment?

Blair recognized Jim's need to deflect – as if by pretending the situation did not exist, it would have made it any less real. But what had happened at the fountain had been real. And Blair needed Jim to recognize that. It was his only chance in what was to come.

"Listen, Jim, I know you usually reject this kind of stuff…"

Jim made a swift movement with his head.

"I don't take gambles with your life like that, Blair," he said, and by the use of his first name, Blair understood just how frightened Jim was. "Whether I really tapped into some mumbo jumbo power or it was just luck – putting my faith in it again, when it comes to you, is not something I'm comfortable doing. What if this time I can't bring you back?"

Blair took a deep breath.

"I'm sure you'll do your best. Jim, I trust you."

Jim frowned.

"My best won't be enough if I can't bring you back," he said.

Blair glanced at Gwydion, who was surreptitiously ignoring them.

"What do you have to say to all this?" he challenged.

Gwydion looked up puzzled.

"What do you mean? I'm waiting for you to be done with the syrupy stuff."

"Cut the crap," Jim snapped. "You're the one with the weird powers – couldn't you bring Sandburg back from the dead? You're more likely to succeed."

Gwydion raised his eyebrows.

"I could. But you might not like what I bring back."

Jim frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Gwydion shrugged, as if it was no big deal to him.

"It means I'm a demon. If I bring back Sandburg from the dead, it will come with strings attached – and with consequences neither of you might be willing to face."

Blair shivered. He did not want that kind of life. He glanced at Jim and saw his face was blank.

"How about you let us make that decision?" Jim suggested to Gwydion.

Blair straightened up then.

"No, wait. Not us. Me. The decision affects me first and foremost."

He noticed Jim's agitation.

"Sandburg…"

What is he trying to do? Blair wondered. Convince me that making a deal with a demon so I could come back twisted and not me would be in my best interest? Or even in his?

"Jim," he said soberly. "I don't want something to be done to me that might change me."

Jim drew in a deep breath.

"Even if it means you get to stay alive?"

They had discussed this before, in a different manner. Not long after the drowning, Blair had sat Jim down and had talked about resuscitation and extreme measures and when he thought it would be necessary for Jim to let him go. Jim had been predictably reluctant to hear anything of the kind, he had fought against Sandburg's precautions and called them unnecessary. Blair had insisted, though, telling Jim that they both took risks and had come close to death more than once. And Blair had made his decisions, but the only thing he wanted was the knowledge that Jim wouldn't allow him to live on in a coma or so brain damaged he could not recognize himself.

It had taken a long time for Jim to agree. Even so, Blair had privately contacted Simon Banks and both had made arrangements. If worse came to worse, the final decision to pull the plug on Blair would rest in Banks' hands. Not Jim's.

"You're a good friend," Blair had told Simon. "But you can also be objective. You can make the choice and let me go. Jim won't be able to. You know it. You've seen it."

Banks had accepted, reluctantly, making Blair promise that he would never have to make the choice. Well, Blair thought wryly, here was one promise he would not break. Because Simon Banks was not there, and their arrangement had not included being brought back to life by a demon anyway.

"Understand this, Jim," Blair insisted. "I'd rather come back as me – or not at all."

Jim was not looking at him.

"And what makes you think I'd be able to have you come back as you?"

Blair did not hesitate.

"Because I trust you," he insisted. "Even with this decision, I trust you. And – I think my grandfather did too."

Jim's head snapped up in surprise.

"What makes you say that?"

Blair had been thinking about it for some time. If Aaron Sandburg had been doing everything possible to keep his family away from the boxes and their involvement, why leave the warehouse to Blair? Unless, this explained another strange behavior of his: the way he had followed Blair's life, his interest in sentinels, his meeting and association with Jim. He must have guessed Jim was a guardian. And he must have known that it would lead to this very moment.

"The way he kept tabs on me," Blair said. "On both of us. I think that was what it was about. He saw you save me once – and he was sure you could do it again."

Jim still did not look convince.

"You're putting an awful lot of faith in someone you don't even know, Sandburg," he said harshly.

But Blair was not going to allow himself to back down.

"No," he insisted. "I'm putting a lot of faith in you."

He saw Jim pale, his jaw clenching, and felt rather annoyed that Jim always refused to accept the trust he had in him.

Gwydion cleared his throat then.

"Alright, folks, this is getting awkward."

"But I'm right, though?" Blair asked. "Jim can bring me back. With the spirit animals."

Gwydion hesitated,

"Chances are high that he can. But he needs to be careful."

Jim scoffed.

"Thanks. I'm always careful with Sandburg."

Gwydion cast him a derisive look.

"You know, when I heard you were a guardian I thought you would be…different. But you're really like one of those Winchesters. Ready to sacrifice everything for each other. It's not Sandburg you need to be careful with. You have to be sure that when you bring Sandburg back, you bring just him. Not any of the demons."

And that, Blair thought, that was the sound of the other shoe dropping for them.

xxxXXXXxxxx

Aaron Sandburg was the last. He had kept his word and stayed close to Arthur Ellison, making a pretense at partnership, even though he sometimes suspected Ellison knew he was doing his best to end the strange connection between them. Then, Ellison had received the second box, but thankfully, Aaron had not needed to steal the other box from the Men of Letters. Ellison had died, soon after. Aaron did not know if it had been connected to the box or not. Perhaps, the box had recognized that, even though someone from Arthur's family was going to be that fabled guardian, it was not Arthur. And that was the price Arthur was paying for his greed. Poetic justice at its finest.

Henry had still put the warehouse in Aaron's name as well as his.

"For the future," he had said.

Then Henry had vanished and the Men of Letters were all either dead or gone to ground. Aaron was the last one standing. He had found himself in similar situations back in Europe. The last survivor, the one left behind. He was used to it, he told himself. But it still left a bitter taste in his throat.

Over the years, Aaron had done everything he could to protect his family – including dooming his daughter and grandson to a hard life. But it would keep Naomi and Blair safe. That was all that mattered. He still kept tabs on them. At first because he greatly missed Naomi – and regretted not being in his grandson's life. But then…then Blair's interests turned to anthropology, and to Sentinels – and Aaron could not miss how those Sentinels resembled the guardian that was supposed to lock the demons in the box for good. Destiny was coming for Blair, despite Aaron's attempts to protect him. He knew then who Blair was. The shaman. The wolf. The one that was supposed to die.

xxxxXXXXxxx

The atmosphere was awkward and tense. It was not only Gwydion's presence – although it did not improve things by a longshot. Jim and Blair also seemed to have their problems – not surprising considering the revelation concerning the death of the shaman. As for him and Dean – Sam knew Dean was in the right. He should have told him about Lisa and Ben immediately after Dean's arrival from Purgatory. But he had not known how.

At any rate, Dean was all business like. He was giving Sam the cold shoulder, but he still collaborated with him, because that was how it had always been. Even when they were out of sync on a personal level, as hunters they were still a formidable team. Sam supposed there was some hope in that. But it had been a long day and he had been through a terrible time, and, childish as it might have sounded, he wanted Dean the big brother, not Dean Winchester the hunter by his side. Of course, Dean had no idea what had happened during his absence except for some very vague details.

"So, what about the boxes?" Dean said. "We have the three of them, what now?"

"Now we have to put the two demons that escaped back in their respective boxes," Sam said.

Dean huffed.

"Funnily enough, I worked that bit out for myself."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying what was on his mind.

"We can do that bit ourselves," he said instead. "Like this, Jim and Blair will be safe until the showdown."

Jim frowned, leaning forward to have a better look at Sam.

"I thought that was our showdown. Putting the demons in the boxes."

Sam shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's only a temporary fix."

Jim huffed.

"Fine. Then let's fix this temporarily. It will keep Sandburg alive, will it?"

Sam nodded reluctantly.

"Yes, but…"

"But nothing," Jim interrupted. "I'm all for the temporary fix. Then you guys can guard the boxes in this Bunker or whatever it is."

Gwydion chuckled and Jim glared at him.

"What?"

"You obviously don't know the Winchesters. They'd be very unsuitable guardians. They put each other first. Then comes the rest of the world."

Sam said nothing. If a demon of all people was calling them out, though, didn't it mean they needed a change in priorities? He glanced at Dean, but his brother's face was still stony. Sam looked away. Right. Even without Lisa and Ben, Dean was still sore about Sam's supposed abandonment of him in Purgatory. Not that Sam could blame him. If he had known then what he knew now, he would have torn down the world for Dean's sake. And this was why Sam thought he needed to be taken off the board. One Winchester the less would do the world less harm, wouldn't it? Especially if that Winchester was Sam.

He cleared his throat.

"It appears that the demons need to be completely sent back to the spirit plane for this to work," he said. "The research from the Men of Letters said they talked to a shaman who knew a ritual. But there has to be a guardian present to fully lock the door, and a shaman to guide the guardian through the spirit plane and back."

Jim shook his head.

"Haven't we done this before? And if Sandburg is to guide me back, that means he doesn't have to die, does he?"

Blair shifted in his chair.

"No, Jim," he said and he could not quite contain the trembling in his voice. "Because there is only one way to get the demons to the spirit plane. You have to allow them to possess you. And I have to take you to the spirit plane and convince you to let them go."

Jim looked confused.

"And where in this does it say that you have to die?"

Blair smiled sadly.

"Jim, you'll be possessed by three demons bent on murder. You'll kill me yourself."

Sam nodded grimly. Apparently, the Man of Letters who had done most of the research on the box thought things would go like this, too.

xxxXXXxxx

As soon as he heard that particular revelation, Jim grabbed Sandburg and led him further inside the Bunker, muttering to the others that he needed some privacy. No one opposed. Jim had Sandburg by the arm, and he was being none too gentle as he dragged him along the corridor. Finally, he deemed he was far enough from the Winchesters so he could shout Sandburg's ear off without fear of the others interfering. He stopped and pushed Blair against the wall.

"Hey, now Jim," Blair said, slightly nervous, "Do you think it's the right time for us to rehash our greatest hits? I mean, I know you used to love slamming me into walls, but still…"

Blair had taken it all in his stride: Jim dragging him down the hall, his sudden need the talk, the idea that Jim was going to have to kill him. Jim swallowed harshly at that. He felt like he was going to be sick at any minute.

"Sandburg, what the hell?" he ground out.

Blair shook his head.

"Jim, don't shoot the messenger, man. I don't make the rules."

"Well, who does?" Jim snapped. "Who decided it was going to end like this?"

Blair sighed. He looked suddenly immensely tired. He reminded Jim of Sam, and that was not a good thought, since Jim already knew Sam was ready to sacrifice himself. And, apparently, Blair was just as ready.

"Who decided you had to die by my hand, Blair?" he repeated tightly.

Blair shook his head.

"I don't know. Fate. God. Karma. Take your pick."

"Unacceptable," Jim said. "I make my own fate."

Blair nodded.

"Yes. Of course you do."

Jim grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

"So let's get out of here. Ask for more time and wait for the Winchesters to go to sleep so we can sneak out. They'd do the same for each other. Don't deny it."

Blair smiled slightly.

"I won't. But Jim…"

Jim turned away from him, his fists clenched.

"But what, Sandburg? You're asking me to kill you?"

He heard Blair's huff, but could not bring himself to turn around and face him.

"No, I'm not. I'm saying it's inevitable that you – well, the demons that will have control of you – will. I'm your shaman. As long as I'm alive, I'd never allow them to be your host. And they'd know it. They'd sense it."

Jim did not answer for a long time. Nothing of what Blair was saying made sense.

"Why would they want me as a host anyway?"

He heard Blair shift away from the wall and come closer.

"Because of who you are, Jim. The sentinel. The ultimate weapon, if used rightly."

Jim shuddered. He hated being referred to as a weapon. He would often have nightmares about the CIA or another government agency finding out who he was and forcing him to use his senses for them. If the military had gotten wind of his senses, surely they would have dragged him right back into service.

Still, that would have been different. That would have still been a situation from which Jim could have gotten out of – he had rights, after all. But demons did not care about rights. And the fact that they would want to use him like this made his skin crawl.

"Sandburg…" he began.

Blair fastened his hands around Jim's arms.

"I know," he said quickly. "I know, Jim."

Jim shook his head.

"I remember the wekufe…The helplessness…the loss of control."

Sandburg's hands tightened around his arms.

"I know," he repeated. "If there was any other way, I would not have you go through this."

Jim grimaced. Sandburg was the one who was supposed to die by his hand. What was he doing, comforting him?

"What about you?" he said pointedly. "Blair, you can't expect me to… You're saying I'm going to kill you!"

Even saying it made him feel sick, and yet Blair looked so maddeningly calm.

"The demons are going to kill me," he corrected. "You're going to bring me back."

And again with the maddening faith in him. Blair must have sensed his doubts. He smiled.

"Remember the wekufe? You fought him. You fought off Alex's influence, too, when it was needed. You can fight them as well. That's why they fear you."

Jim raised his eyebrows.

"If they fear me so much, why do they want to make me their host?"

"Because they think they can control you," Blair said.

Jim shook his head.

"And you think they can't?"

Blair nodded.

"I think you can fight this. You just need to allow what has to happen to take place."

Jim lowered his head.

"Kill you, you mean?"

Blair snorted.

"I don't like this any more than you do. I've already died once. Trust me, I don't want to do it again. But that's the only way to get the demons in the spirit world and keep them there."

Jim took a deep breath. This was happening. He did not want it, but it was happening.

"Do you have any idea how all this will go down?"

Blair shrugged.

"I assume the wolf will take over once I'm…you know. Dead. You just have to follow the wolf – and trust your own animal spirit. Just like last time."

I can't wait for the next chapter. I already have lots of angst and danger for all four of the boys. Hopefully has fixed its issues (there were some with blank pages earlier this week as well), but in case things are still going downhill here, just remember I also update my stories every Sunday on AO3 as well (under the name Star_Wanderer), so if you can't read an update on ff., you can read it there.