Death in the Mountains

“What the fuck do you mean you were the one who tied me up?” Sam bellowed loud enough for half the campground to hear. Dean was glad they were in an isolated part of the campground and it was still nearly empty. Sam had thrown his empty plate off the porch and broke it. Dean was pissed that he had broken Nora’s plate. So much for Sam hearing him out before he lost it.

“What is the last thing you remember before waking up?” For once Dean was trying to stay cool.

Sam stood up; Dean noticed he was still wobbly on his feet. Good. He was strong as a friggin’ bull these days but he could take him down again if he needed to.

“What does it matter?”

Dean stood up as well. “It matters because you lost it last night. You went into shock, puked, and tried running out of here like a friggin’ maniac. I’ve spent most of the last day trying to find someone that could help you!”

“I don’t remember any of that.” Sam snapped. “Was that before or after you drugged me?” His voiced crackled with bitterness.

“Before. Sammy, you’re sick ‘cause you’re a psychic, a strong one. You’re out of control ‘cause you didn’t learn to use it when you were a kid!”

“What do you mean I’m sick?” Sam’s face was a mask of fury.

“You told me stuff last night.” Dean’s voice had dropped to an intense near whisper as he closed in on Sam and stood almost nose to nose with him. “About being freaked because you were dreaming about having sex with men. You told me how you thought you were feeling other people’s emotions. How you felt like people are watching you or laughing at you…” Dean didn’t get any further because Sam shoved him and tried to turn away.

Dean wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed Sam’s arm and nailed him in the face. Sam fell face first on the rough wooden porch of the cabin. When he tried to get up Dean shoved him over on his back with his foot.

Dean knelt down and grabbed the front of his shirt with both fists and half lifted him from the porch. He stared down into Sam’s eyes with no mercy.

“Shut up and listen to me or I’ll nail you again.” Dean snarled. “Do you think I wanted to drug you? Do you think I want to wrestle you down in the middle of the night to keep you from running out into the woods? Do you think I’m having fun when I tie you up and go talk to weird old people? Or being scared half to death by some kind of spirit giving me advice on what to do with you?”

Sam’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something. Dean shook him hard. “Don’t even try it. Not a sound.” Dean’s voice sounded low and deadly.

“If someone had called the cops last night when you were screaming your head off they probably would have dragged you off to a psych hospital and there wouldn’t have been a fucking thing I could have done about it. You’re pretty damned strong right now ‘cause of all the work you’ve been doing and I could barely control you. You’re going to listen to me. I got some stuff today that can help you. You are going to shut up and do what I tell you to do until you get under control. If you don’t, I’ll let ‘em call the cops on you next time and wait until you get out of jail or the psych hospital and then we’ll try this all over again. Do you understand?”

All Sam could do is stare back at Dean with his mouth gaping open. Dean shook him.

“Do you understand Sammy?” He asked him a little more gently.

“Uh, yeah, I mean yes.” Sam finally got out.

“Are you going to listen to me now?”

“Y-y-yes” Dean let him go and helped him up.

Sam stared hard at his face for a moment, noticing the bruise on his left cheek. “Shit Dean, what happened to the side of your face?” Dean looked down and half turned away from him, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You. Last night. Let’s sit back down and don’t make me hit you again.”


An hour later, Sammy was having another breakdown, but of a different type.

Sam was crying while sitting on his bed, rocking back and forth.

“Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t Dad tell us about the other Hunters? We didn’t have to be alone…” His plaintive questions ended on a keen as he began sobbing harder.

Dean was standing over Sam at a loss of what to do. He wished Nora or Rattler had phones. Yeah, he wanted to get in touch with these other Hunters, but he’d just assumed Dad had a good reason for not hooking up with them at the time. He should have realized that it would hit Sammy harder because of he wanted a “normal” life. Shit. A revelation struck Dean. If they had hooked up with one of these families, Sammy could have had the life he wanted without having to pretend their world didn’t exist. He could have been with people who understood, could have trained him and kept him safe as a kid. Sammy wouldn’t be freaking out right now because of his abilities. Dean always enjoyed hunting, he lived and breathed it. Dad, Sammy and he could have had the best of both worlds. Friends to fall back on that understood and Sammy could have gone to college without having to pretend his previous life didn’t exist. You didn’t have to go all one way or the other.

Looking at Sam’s near hysterical grief, Dean questioned Dad’s decisions for the first time in his life.

Dean sat down and pulled Sammy into his arms. “I know you’re upset, but you’ve got to calm down. Don’t cry yourself sick. We know about them now and we’ll go find them after we get you fixed up. We’ll try to find one you like so you can settle down if you want to and I’ll have people to Hunt with. You won’t have to lie or pretend Hunting doesn’t exist and we can still do stuff together.”

This only made Sam cry harder, and Dean could make out a few broken worlds like “could have” “wanted” and “why”. Shit, what was he going to do with him? Nora Bonesteel didn’t want him drugged with those leftover painkillers. Then he remembered earlier today when he had pressed his forehead to Sammy’s and it was like he could feel his emotions. That seemed like years ago. He was feeling other people’s emotions. Could he use that to calm him down?

Dean gripped his brother’s head with both hands and pressed his forehead to Sammy’s. Once again, he could feel his grief. It was very far off, very faint, but it was still there. Dean tried pushing calm thoughts into Sam’s mind. Almost immediately he began calming down, so fast it was scary. No wonder Nora and Rattler wanted him kept away from people until she had a chance to see him.

After Sam stopped crying Dean got up and tossed a roll of paper towels onto the bed to clean up his face. Touchy feely time was over.

“Okay Sammy. Here’s the plan. We go watch some TV in the lobby, after a while you drink some of this stuff Rattler gave me, and you go to sleep. We get up tomorrow and you work your ass off all day until you’re ready to drop. Then we do the same thing the next day, but we go see Nora Bonesteel and Rattler that afternoon, and you’re not arguing with me over it.” Dean was much more comfortable giving orders than being a shoulder to cry on.

Sam took a few deep breaths. “Does the cabin feel different to you?” He asked tentatively. Dean started to scowl and stopped. He needed to let him talk about this stuff or he’d close up again like he did before. Then he remembered the note and the other things he found when he came back.

“I noticed some stuff outside; tell me what you’re feeling. It could be important.” Rattler said to listen to and encourage him. He and Nora had been right about everything so far.

“It just feels…I dunno, cleaner somehow, and safer, like bad stuff can’t get in.”

Dean nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “I think Vera from the library came up here and did some stuff to the cabin. That line of salt across the door is supposed to keep the nasties out. I’ll call her tomorrow and find out what’s up with her.” Sammy seemed relieved. Good. That should keep him from thinking he was going crazy.


Sammy didn’t bitch too much about the tea or going to sleep, much to Dean’s relief. He was kind of glad that Sam was being cranky. It was better than him bawling his eyes out or sleepwalking. After Sammy settled down for the night, Dean sat on his bed, back against the wall with the shotgun across his lap and turned on the small electric lantern they had bought. All the stuff he got from Rattler, Nora and Vera made sense and they all seemed to be saying the same thing, but he needed to be sure. He let himself settle into a light doze and hoped that it would be a quiet night.


Sam arched as he felt a soft hand rub down his spine, stopping to caress his ass. Hungry lips latched onto one of his nipples and flicked his tongue over it, and then gave the other nipple the same treatment. He felt himself being pushed over on his back while his lover straddled his hips, rubbing his cock against Sam’s. Sam reached up and pulled his lover down for a deep and passionate kiss. Sam broke the kiss to nibble down his lover’s collarbone. This time the man in his dream was dark haired. Sam pushed the brunet over on his back, wanting to be more aggressive than in his last dream. His lover allowed him to do so with a delighted little laugh. Sam ran his hands over his lover’s chest and down his legs then back up to his groin, enjoying the fact that the brunet was willingly turning his body over to him to explore. Sam stroked the other man’s cock and massaged his balls, doing so gently out of fear of hurting him or being rejected.

“It’s okay Sam, you’re not hurting me” his lover whispered. Sam began licking his cock, exploring it with his tongue, letting it dance over bulging veins.

“Oh, fuck yeah” his lover moaned, reaching down to rub the top of Sam’s head, encouraging him to continue. With this reassurance, Sam gingerly started sucking the head of his cock. The brunet thrust slowly into his mouth a few times, giving him time to adjust. Sam began to start sucking harder and stroking his lover’s balls. Almost immediately the brunet came, spurting his seed into Sam’s hungry mouth. He pulled Sam up to lay besides him. Sam’s cock was hard and needy, leaking precum on his belly. The brunet pulled him close and stroked his cock.

“What do you want?” He asked Sam, still rubbing his cock and stroking his back in encouragement.

“I-I want to try anal” Sam whispered, still fearing rejection. He kissed Sam gently on the lips before getting up and positioning himself on his hands and knees, giving him easy access to his ass. Sam nervously positioned himself to penetrate the ass in front of him. He stroked the globes in front of him gently before pulling them apart. He was already lubed. Sam put the head of his cock at his entrance and slowly began to push in, his lover murmuring encouragement to him. Sam pushed all the way in and felt the brunet’s hot, tight ass envelope his straining cock, and far too soon Sam felt himself having an explosive orgasm.

Dean woke up immediately when he heard Sammy moving around in his bed and whimpering. He turned the little electric lantern up on high to see him clearly. About that time Sam moaned softly and writhed sensually. Dean smirked and leaned back against the wall. He didn’t know if he was grossed out watching his brother have a wet dream or ready to laugh his ass off. Either way, he didn’t look like he was having a nightmare, so he stifled his snickers so he wouldn’t wake him up. After about three minutes, Sammy gasped and opened his eyes.

“Was it good for you?” Dean snarked. He knew he shouldn’t be making fun of him, but this was just too good to pass up. He couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. Sammy groaned and covered his beet red face with his hands.

“Are you ever going to let this one go?”

“Nope. Now that you’ve had your fun, clean up and go back to sleep.” Even if he was going to give him a hard time about the dream, he was glad he told Sammy that he didn’t care if he was gay.

*

Ashera sat cross legged on her back porch. The moon was waxing and would be full in a few nights. She had cast a Circle, once more needing the advice and assistance of the Gods. She had chosen the Chinese I Ching, or the Book of Changes as the oracle she would use. The I Ching was one of the most complex forms of divination she knew, and included advice and commentaries on how the future may change if certain actions are taken. She had two books on this oracle with her into the Circle since it took a lifetime to learn all the subtleties. Ashera began casting the coins and carefully began building the hexagram.

She bit her lip and began sweating. There were four shifting lines out of six. The situation was very fluid. The base hexagram was hexagram 3. One translation was “Difficult Beginnings” while the other was just “Beginnings”. Clouds over Thunder. Birth of new beginnings, a single misstep can mean disaster according to one translation. Beginnings, and “movement in the midst of danger” according to another.

Wonderful. Ashera had certainly made a major misstep in the beginning. She looked to see what the second hexagram was. It was hexagram 30, The Clinging in one translation, Brightness in the other. Fire over Fire. When two things approach one another to accomplish far more than they could alone. Co-operating with and dependence on one another. “During times of darkness and danger people should cling to one another. When they do, things become brighter.”

Clouds and Thunder, Fire joining Fire. Ashera shuddered, suddenly cold. The situation could be salvaged, but at what cost?

She was beginning to see the gathering storm that Nora Bonesteel had been aware of for over a month.

*

Much to Dean’s relief, Sammy had a quiet night and slept well besides waking up that one time. That morning he was quiet, but Dean put that down to him having a lot to think about. They ate breakfast in the cabin that morning since Mrs. Rice was in Johnson City that morning taking Mr. Rice to a doctor’s appointment. Sam went off to get the last of the mulching done before starting to open up the cabins to see what repairs they might need. Dean was watching the office until Betsy got back.

As Dean was coming back from the showers he stopped dead in his tracks. On either side of the porch were small piles of stones that he knew weren’t there when he left for Nora’s the day before. Was this something else that Vera had done? After dropping off his clothes in the cabin he came back outside to take a closer look at them. As he was looking at one of the piles, he saw a glimpse of pink under the porch. As he moved the dirt and old leaves away he found a five inch tall rose quartz crystal. He was careful not to touch it or the cairn of rocks. What the hell?

He slowly walked around the cabin. Scratched out in the dirt or laid out in small, ordinary stones he found a whole series of symbols. Some were Norse runes, others were Kabalistic symbols and he found a pentacle behind the cabin where it couldn’t be seen from the front. Some he had no idea what they were. There were other stones. He found amethyst, a large silvery rock, several ordinary quartz crystals, a yellow crystal, and small octagonal muddy red stone as well as a polished, reddish lump of rock. The quartz crystals were all at least four inches high. All of the symbols and stones had been carefully concealed by leaves or brush and you couldn’t see them easily. It was almost like there was some sort of magical camouflage on them that made them hard to see. Dean was careful not to touch any of them.

Did Vera do all of this? If she did, who was she really? Not a timid little librarian, that was for sure. All of these stones must have cost hundreds of dollars. And what about the quilt? It looked hand made, did she make it herself? If she were some type of magician or witch, he didn’t blame her for keeping a low profile. They might understand about ghosts and psychics up here, but a full blown magician of some type? He dashed back inside to grab Dad’s journal before heading up to the lobby. This was another mystery to solve. Dean was getting rather sick of them. He missed the good old days when you just blew the shit out of something and then burned it to a crisp.

While he was watching the desk in the office Dean looked through Dad’s journal trying to figure out what some of the symbols were. A few more he identified, some of them were used by a ceremonial magical group called The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. A few of them were similar to Freemason symbols, but not exactly. He identified the Eye of Horus as well. He took out the lap top and started trying to find some of the others.

Dean was amazed. Some of the symbols were ancient Egyptian, others were ancient Sumerian. One was the Knot of Isis and another was the eight pointed star of the Sumerian goddess Inanna. Some were Native American symbols of Southeastern tribes, and a few were from a group called the Fellowship of Inner Light that was started by a woman called Dion Fortune. A few were Chinese symbols from something called the I Ching. All of them were either protection or healing symbols.

Then he started looking up the stones, both to identify those he didn’t know and to check on their mystical uses. The small octagonal red stone was a raw ruby! Another was a gigantic citrine crystal. The silvery stone was something called hematite, which had “grounding” properties to help psychics from getting overloaded. All of them had strong protective and healing properties.

Shit. If Vera did all of this, what was she? She had made the cabin into a fucking psychic Fort Knox. Between what she did and the advice from Nora and Rattler no wonder Sam was acting better. How had she learned it all? She had used at least 10 different types of symbols, most of which weren’t in Dad’s journal, and it took him almost four hours to research the others. He still didn’t know what some of them were.

Dean always thought Dad knew everything about Hunting, all the tricks and symbols, all the weapons and techniques. He slammed the journal shut.

How much did Dad really know? Sammy was fucked up, and it was probably because Dad wouldn’t have anything to do with other Hunters. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was sure some of the people that sought Dad out on jobs were other Hunters. Maybe they knew Sammy was psychic and that was what they were talking to him about. Nora said that most hunting groups had at least one psychic. Could they sense one another? He had met three people in the last two months that seemed to know more than Dad did.

Had they been just blundering through jobs? Were there things they could have learned to make it easier for them? Would Dad still be alive if he’d made contact with other Hunters?

Then a thought struck Dean over the head. What if Sammy stopped hunting not because he was selfish or didn’t want to get what killed Mom, but because these monsters were slowly causing him to lose it? And Dad refused help for him, either because he thought he didn’t need it or because he didn’t know?

After Betsy got back he was calling Vera and asking her to meet with him and Sammy. He was going to start getting some answers out of her.


Sam dumped another wheel barrel load of mulching on the trail and began to smooth it out with the rake. He was glad for the work, it gave him something to do while he thought. Dean called him about every half hour to check on him. He did have to admit that he felt better today than he had in weeks. More rested and in control. Before he felt mentally exhausted and like pieces of him were scattered all over.

Dean certainly had plenty of bombshells to drop last night. Sam had felt his whole life rearrange.

Now that he knew that there were other Hunters and Hunter families, Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet any of them, at least not right away. He didn’t want to see what could have been.

*


After Betsy got back to the office Dean went to the cabin to have a private place to call Vera. The first number he called rang unanswered. He got a shock when he called the second.

“Thank you for calling the Wake County Library. This is the line of Dr. Vera Kesterson, Director of the Library and Curator of the library’s special collections. I am either away from my desk or on another call. Please leave a message or press zero for immediate assistance.”

Dean quickly pressed zero.

“Thank you for calling the Wake County Library’s Circulation Desk, Pamela speaking. How can I help you?”

“I’m calling for Dr. Kesterson.”

“I’m sorry; she just stepped out for lunch. Is this Dr. Mallory?”

“Yes” Dean replied. He wanted to get some more information on “Dr. Kesterson”.

“She said she’s sorry, but she’s not going to be able to make the deadline for her article on the conservation of Wake County’s pre-Civil War documents because of a family emergency. She says that she should have it done for the next journal. She’ll call you either later today or tomorrow.”

Dean thanked her and hung up. Is she the scholar that Ravenmocker was talking about? She had let them spend days in the library doing work on what looks like a dead end case while Sammy was losing it under her nose? Could she have been helping them all along and had been just playing with them?

Screw calling her back. Dean was going to have a heart to heart with her. Today.

*

Nora Bonesteel sat on her porch, a worn Bible in her hands. The young ones were beginning to come together, but their first meeting would be violent and blood would be spilled. Blood calls to blood, and the blood would be the first step in healing the breach that had already came up between them and washing away the rage and anger.

Another trouble was on her mind. The leader of the new Guardians did not follow the faith of these mountains. She had the ability to be a good Guardian if she would just admit it and accept her responsibilities, but would the community accept her?

“Good Lord,” Nora murmured “give me a sign to guide their way.

Bible cracking had never failed her when she was unsure of the Good Lord’s intent. She opened her Bible and looked at the first verse she saw on the page.

It was Matthew 12:25

“A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good things; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things”

*

Sam shifted restlessly in the car.

“I thought that I wasn’t supposed to go back in to town until I saw Nora.”

Dean’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

“How are you holding up?”

“I don’t like it, but it’s not too bad. Now I know why I feel this way, I’m not freaking. That seemed to make it worse. Why do we have to see this librarian today? Why can’t it wait?”

“I’m making a point.”

“Why are you so pissed at me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

Dean drove in silence of a few more moments until he found a place to pull off the road. He undid his seat belt so he could turn around and look directly Sam.

“Why do you think I’m pissed with you?” Dean said this very carefully, Sammy had been doing much better today and he didn’t want anything to drive him back over the edge.

“I can feel it. Now you say you’re taking me to town to prove a point.”

“I’m mad, but not at you. I’m pissed at Vera because she’s been jerking us around for a while now. I think she knew you were having problems and didn’t do anything. Now she regrets it and I’m going to make the bitch guilty as hell so she’ll get off her ass and help you. She did a lot of things to the cabin, but it was almost too little too late. I want her to see what her string pulling bullshit has done to you.”

Sam looked confused. “What about Nora Bonesteel?”

“I know she can help you, she already has, but Ravenmocker told me we need Vera for some reason. Nora lives on a mountain top by herself and only comes into town a few times a week. I think Nora can only teach you so much but you have to get the rest from Vera.” Dean quickly told Sam about the layers of protective and healing symbols he found around the cabin and the crystals.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Shit, what is she? Some type of female Merlin?”

“Little bro, that’s what we’re going to find out.”

Sam knew the type of mood his brother was in. He almost felt sorry for Vera.

*

LeDonne was on patrol when he saw the ’67 Chevy Impala. He decided to follow the car. Most of the rest of Wake County might think the brothers were harmless, but he wasn’t too sure.

*

Vera was at the circulation desk when Sam and Dean walked in. Before Dean could say anything she told them to follow her to her office. Once inside she closed the door and drew the blinds for privacy.

After she drew the blinds, her appearance changed slightly. She was still the same person, but her hair darkened slightly, her eyes were a lighter green, her cheekbone became higher, she appeared about 10 years younger and 15 pounds lighter. Her skin became much tanner, as opposed to the almost pasty look she had before. She was taller as well. Dean was surprised to see that she was a little taller than he was.


As soon as they crossed the threshold of her office, Sam immediately felt the psychic pressure lift off of him. Except for Dean’s, all of the other people’s emotions he had been feeling were gone. After seeing her change, Sam had to touch her cheek to see if the texture of her skin had really changed, to reassure him self of what he had just seen. He looked into her eyes and she smiled kindly at him.

Dean was at a loss for words. Sam reached out and touched her cheek, as if confirming what he was seeing. The innocence of Sam’s gesture almost broke Vera’s heart and made tears come to her eyes. What a fool she had been.

“Please, sit down” she asked the two of them. “I’m afraid I have an apology to make and some explanations are in order as well.” Her voice carried almost none of the mountain accent she had spoken with earlier. There were still traces of it there, but barely. She motioned them to take two chairs in front of her desk. Sam looked around as he was seated. The walls were a cheerful mint green with framed prints of places like Stonehenge and Greek temples on the walls along with a few diplomas. There was a small fridge in a corner behind her desk. Her desk had several silver framed photos placed around the edges. Sam could almost see something else out of the corners of his eyes, but as soon as he looked it was gone. They seemed to be some sort of symbols floating just off the walls and small creatures moving around the office. They didn’t scare him but he was intensely curious about them. He was almost about to get up to try to touch them as well when he heard Dean’s voice.

“Start talking. What the hell are you?” Sam’s attention snapped back to the confrontation playing out in front of him.

Vera raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, what am I?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No” Vera said calmly, “I am afraid I do not.” Vera knew that she appeared to be baiting Dean, but she had to be sure that he understood. She knew that this was a confrontation, not a discussion. She had neglected the situation for far too long. Dean needed an excuse to vent his anger and rage at her before they could progress any further. Besides, she had her own bone to pick with them that would be out before this was all said and done.

“We know that you’re some kind of psychic, witch, magician or something. You’ve let us sit here in the library doing work for you while Sammy was losing it, then you show up and do all this weird magical stuff to the cabin. What the hell are you??!!” Dean was almost yelling the last sentence.

“Ok, I am an eclectic Neo-Pagan high priestess whose main inspiration comes from the syncratic faiths of Late Antiquity. I practice a combination of theurgy, ceremonial magic, folk magic, Hermeticism, Neo-Platonic magical philosophy and Appalachian granny magic. Does that answer your question?”

Dean scowled at her for a moment, but it was apparent that this didn’t intimidate her.

“You knew. You knew all along that Sammy needed help and you didn’t do anything.” Dean’s voice had dropped, but it throbbed with rage.

Vera sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. “I wasn’t sure. I should have realized that there is no such thing as a free lunch.” She opened her eyes again. “I thought you were someone else when you first came, then I was angry with you for my own reasons. By the time I realized that you were also the Hunters I had called for, I knew that your brother desperately needed training. I was afraid if I came to you directly you would leave town before Sam got what he needed.”

“Cut all the bullshit” Dean growled. “I am tired of every fucking body talking in circles. Tell me what is going on.” Vera could see the tension in almost every line of Dean’s body. She steeled herself for what she knew could be coming at any moment.

Sam was startled. He could tell that Dean was about to attack this woman at any time. He could feel Dean’s rage and fear for him radiating out of his brother like a painful heat. He almost moved his chair away from him to get away from it.

Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Calm down!” He pleaded. Dean didn’t need to get thrown in jail on an assault charge. Besides, who knew what this woman, or creature, or whatever she was could do to him. This just seemed to piss off Dean more. He jerked his arm from Sam’s grasp and stood up. Vera stood up as well. Sam was glad that at least her desk was between the two of them.

‘Fine!” She let her own anger flare. “Something evil is killing people up here. I can’t take it by myself! The rest of my coven is gone and can’t run home right now, and even if they did I’m still not sure we could handle it! I put a psychic call out for help. I was hoping to get a Hunter group up here to help me. I know they exist, but not how to contact any of them! They’re so secretive! There doesn’t seem to be an active Guardian up here as far as I can tell! I’ve lived here for less than a year and can’t get much information from the sheriff’s department! Then you two show up. You’re the same guys that got my nephew expelled from college! I’ve pulled strings all across the state to keep him out of jail and now I am trying to find another university to take him! Sam was obviously a psychic and heard my call, but I didn’t think you were up to what is going on here so I tried to keep you both safe and out of harm’s way! I know Sam needs training, but I had my hands full trying to figure out what the hell these things are! By the time I realized how bad Sam was, I didn’t think you would believe me! I train people all the time but I had too much going on all at once!” Her voice rose throughout this entire tirade, but unlike with Dean, San didn’t feel any of her emotions. That scared him worse than feeling Dean’s. Sam realized how long he had been feeling other people. Vera just didn’t seem to be there, it was like she wasn’t real.

“But you knew!” Dean raged. “You still knew! I almost took Sammy to a psych hospital and who knows how bad that could have fucked him up!”

Vera almost sneered. “What? Do you think I have the time to run an orphanage for wayward psychics as well as…?”

This pushed Dean over the edge. Vera didn’t get the chance to say another word. Mom was dead. Dad was dead. He was an orphan before he was thirty. He’d almost lost his little brother as well because this woman didn’t help Sammy when she knew he desperately needed it. He snatched up one of the framed photos on her desk and threw it as hard as he could at her.

Vera dodged it, but only barely. The frame hit the wall behind her and the glass shattered. She had turned to avoid it, and now glass shards were flying back at her. She raised her hand to shield her face.

The room went silent except for the tinkling of glass. Vera lowered her hands.

The door burst open and revealed a very aggressive Deputy LeDonne. He scowled at the tableau in front of him. The two transients were here in Dr. Kesterson’s office. He couldn’t think of a more unlikely conversation.

“Are you alright Vera? I heard shouting and something hitting the wall.” LeDonne was glaring at Sam and Dean. Sam knew that this guy was just looking for an excuse to come after them. She could have them arrested right this second and he was sure they wouldn’t get bail, even with the Rice’s help.

“No, no, I’m fine LeDonne, thanks for asking.” She managed to smile. “These are some friends of Jay’s. We were just having a” she paused, “spirited conversation”.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, we just need to finish up and then they’ll be leaving for the day.” LeDonne glared at then one last time before closing the door quietly behind him.

“Crap, I’m sorry...” Dean began, appalled at what had almost happened and grateful that she didn’t have them thrown in jail. The frame was heavier than he thought and could have done serious damage to her if she hadn’t ducked fast enough. Vera acted as if she hadn’t heard him and picked up the broken frame. She stopped as she turned back to the desk, never taking her eyes off the photo. Dean noticed that she was bleeding from a small but deep cut on her forehead. The blood was trickling down into her eyebrow.

Sam felt a feeling of grief and loss crashing over him like a tidal wave. He almost fell out of his chair.

“Dean!” he gasps. Right as he said his name Dean could feel an echo of Sammy’s panic.

Just as suddenly as it began, it ended. Vera looked at Sam.

“I’m sorry for that.” was all she said. Sam realized that he had felt her emotions for a moment. Sam and Dean both noticed that the palm of her left hand was slashed and bleeding profusely over the frame and dripping onto the desk.

“You’re bleeding. We need to get you to a hospital. You might need stitches.” Dean said quietly. She waved her uninjured hand at him in denial and then laid the badly dented and blood stained photo and frame face down on her desk.

She gave him a strange, distant smile.

“I’ll heal. Could you run down to the bathrooms and bring back some paper towels? I need to clean up. I have a first aid kit in my desk. I’d rather the staff didn’t know I was just assaulted in my office.” Dean nodded and slipped out of the office. Sam came around the desk and carefully swept shards of glass out of her chair.

“Here, sit down” Sam said quietly. “Let me check to see if you have any glass in your hair or any more cuts.” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a large first aid kit and told him there was water in the ‘fridge.

Sam found several more small cuts and a few pieces of glass in her hair and scalp. He was pulling out the first aid kit’s tweezers as Dean came back in with most of the paper towels from the men’s restroom. The room was silent except for an occasional question for several moments as the brothers cleaned and bandaged her cuts. Dean looked closely at the gash in her left palm as he cleaned it. He was surprised to see her hands were heavily calloused for a woman’s. It looked like she did a lot of manual labor. The calluses were probably the only thing that stopped any really serious damage to her hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” He asked anxiously. Vera flexed her hand and made a fist.

“Everything seems to be in good working order. It will heal.” She took a closer look at the cut. Her heart line had always been deep but short. The gash began near the end of her heart line but branched out almost across her palm. When it healed she would have another deep heart line, indicating a second deep and long lasting romantic relationship. Vera laughed bitterly as she glanced at the back of the broken frame on her desk. Dean looked at Sammy but he didn’t seem to notice. He was pulling a large piece of glass from her hair. Were all psychics a little crazy?

“Yes” Vera said. “We are. That’s why we either withdraw or need other people to help keep us grounded.”

“How did you know…” Dean began.

“It wasn’t hard to tell what you were thinking by the look on your face, but I also got a hint of what you were thinking because you are touching me.”

Dean hesitated. “I can feel when Sammy is upset sometimes or is having problems now. Am I psychic too?”

Sam finally looked at him.

“Yes” Vera said, still in the same subdued voice she had been speaking with since he had thrown the photo. “Just a little, just barely. Probably all you ever will be able to do is feel Sam. You need to do some training with him so you can use it. You’re brothers. Blood calls to blood.”

Dean was amazed. “That’s what Nora Bonesteel said.”

“Nora Bonesteel is wise, far wiser than I am.” Vera said softly.

“We’re going to see Nora tomorrow afternoon. Come with us. You know you need to.” Sammy said firmly. Dean was amazed. It sounded like he was giving her an order. She was about 15 years older than him and obviously a powerful woman, both in the local community and psychically. Dean had the sudden feeling that she was afraid for some reason. She and Sammy were looking at each other. There was no challenge or fight for dominance in their gaze. It was more like they were trying to see who the other one really was.

“Yes.” She said. “I’ve needed to for a couple of weeks now. But I’m driving. Meet me here at one.”

The two translations of the I Ching I used are:

Huang, Alfred. The Complete I Ching. Inner Traditions, Rochester VT
1998

Wing, R. L. The I Ching Workbook. Broadway Books, New York, 2001