jai guru deva om: All Together Now (chapter 10)

[sharlot1926]

"We got you."




A/N: My undying thanks go to NongPradu, Tifaching and Emmessann or all of their help with this story. Sue, Ginger, Penny, Amanda and Deb all rocked my world with comments and suggestions along the way. I'm in their debt!

Jai Guru Deva Om

Chapter Ten
All Together Now
**ॐ**"We got you."
Words without meaning droned around him, murmurs Dean could neither bat away nor break into manageable parts. The voices didn't belong to Father; they weren't offering his teacher praise or chanting his sacred name, so they scarcely mattered, anyway. They were like bees, a nuisance, and their buzzing made him wince and flinch and paw at his ears.

Dean tried to drown out the unwanted babble by chanting to his guru, himself. When he opened his mouth, though, nothing came out except the sound of his teeth chattering. Trying to purse his lips didn't work. They had no feeling, and he wondered if maybe his lips were gone. Perhaps they'd burned away-small casualties of Father's fiery grace and love. Dean trembled with the memory of his teacher's life force flowing through him, burning his pain and care away. He ached for another febrile brush of Father's power to soothe his spirit and make the voices stop, but he perceived nothing of the sage. There were only the voices and the cold. He shivered, the frigid air an unpleasant shock to his system after being so long in The Kiln. He'd grown so accustomed to its scorching heat against his skin it that he now missed it. The air was cold. It was so, so cold.

"He's burning up, poor kid," a senseless voice said.

"He was in there so damn long. It's no wonder. Man, he's filthy. Here, we're gonna have to get him out of these clothes before we head up there. They're nothing but shreds, now, and they reek. Hand me those right there, Jason. We'll get him cleaned up a little before the ceremony. Once Father heals him, he'll be glad that he's not in these rags."

Dean felt hands moving him into a sitting position, pulling up his shirt. The touch startled him, and he whimpered and bucked in fear and pain.

"Whoa Dean, relax. It's us-Brad and Jason. We're just getting you fixed up. You're going to be all right." He felt a soft touch on his head. "You did it, man. You made it through your Ordeal. Took you long enough. You outlasted Maureen-set a new record, you stubborn sonofabitch. Show off." There was laughter in the air, and Dean shriveled away from it. Father. He needed Father.

"I don't think he's hearing anything, Brad. Let's just get him changed and up to the orchard. The faster we do this the sooner he's going to be back with us." Hands lifted his shirt over his head and the cold air hit his burnt flesh. He folded in on himself, seeking the warmth of his own body heat if nothing else.

"He's a mess. Half his skin's blistered, the other half's peeling right off. Forget this, let's just clean his face and get him dressed. Father needs to fix the rest. This isn't something we can handle."

"We could take him to the shower."

"No, that would freak him out. He's out of it, but he's aware enough to feel fear. Father will revive him better than any shower could."

All attempts to pull away from the wet rag they dragged over his face failed, and he eventually surrendered, moaning and shivering under its touch. They passed a shirt over his head and drew light trousers up his legs and over his ass. The friction of the light material against his skin sent jolts of agony through him and he gasped.

"Easy. Easy, Dean. Drink."

Someone placed a cup against his lips, but he clamped his teeth and turned his head.

"You've got to drink this before we take you to the Sacred Haoma Ceremony, Dean."

He couldn't fight the hands off, and he was thirsty-he was very, very thirsty-so he made an attempt to swallow the licorice water.

"Good job Dean, keep going. Don't forget to take yours, Brad."

"I got it."

"Just a couple more sips, Dean, come on." He heard some shuffling and the hollow sound of empty paper cups dropping to the ground. "We're good…grab him…easy now!" Arms threaded themselves under his armpits and Dean felt a sudden altitude shift that had his stomach threatening to reject the ayahuasca he'd consumed.

"Easy now, Jason. He's lost all his color. Maybe he's gonna hurl." Several seconds passed as the hands paused, waiting.

"I think he's okay, now. Here, shift him, I can't hold his arm like that, I'm ripping the skin. Get it over my shoulder. There, like that. That's good. Come on, everyone's waiting. Let's get our boy up there. We're taking you to see Father, Dean."

Father. It was the one word Dean understood. The rest spilled on the ground around him, and Dean let them lie.

The hands shifted him a couple of times as he floated along, his legs skimming the ground. When he heard chanting in the distance, he tried to move his legs, wanting to get closer, wanting to sit among the words-to let them wash over him-let them carry him to Father.

"He hears that," one of the voices said.

"That's right, Dean. You're almost home, buddy. You're almost there."

**ॐ**The air reverberated with beautiful voices chanting praise to Father. He struggled against the arms carrying him, desperate to get close, but the sound of chanting was soon swallowed up in the blinding majesty, the pure magnificence of Father's light emanating from the center of the prayer circle. Dean needed no eyes to see his teacher standing before him, arms outstretched, welcoming him into his aura of clean, perfect love, offering redemption and forgiveness. Placed on the ground at his teacher's feet, he groped out, unable to resist touching the source of the light that now poured like a spate upon him, prostrating himself, murmuring garbled, inarticulate words of worship and adulation.
"Adept! Adept!" voices cheered. After a moment they hushed, expectant.

"To whom do you belong, Disciple?" Father asked when all were silent.

Dean strove to open his mouth, but his lips barely moved. "Yuuuuhh" he managed to get out with effort.

"And your family?"

Dean felt arms on him again, raising him up, helping to support him.

Speaking was near impossible, though he tried his best. "Deny'em. Jus' Kinnn'red. Kinn'red!" he cried out, hoping that volume would make up for clarity. "Father," he reached out a hand, charred to the bone. "Father." He could say no more than that. His body was faltering, and his mouth wouldn't work right. He prayed that Father would understand and accept his proclamation.

"Yes, my son. I hear you. Well done." Father bent in close, placing his hallowed palms on Dean's face. The guru parted Dean's lips with his own, melting into him, breathing life back into his body-mending puckered, weeping flesh, repairing sight and restoring normal organ and brain function. The young Adept's body jounced and reeled as Father's power renewed each and every cell, and Dean became aware and lucid again. And still the power flowed into him.

In the next instant Dean's spine stiffened and his world transformed as Father knitted The Kindred's energies through his own once more, threading communication lines with such delicate complexity that when their essences flooded his mind, they were not mere impressions or vague sensations only; they were thoughts and words fully formed, telepathically transmitted from Adept to Adept. And each thought and word was exuberant and full of love. The Kindred were ecstatic to have him back among them. Shouts of welcome and joyful greetings reverberated through his brain. Brad's, Jason's and Gypsy's voices were the loudest among them, easy to recognize amid the happy din.

We told you! We told you you'd make it, Sweetie! We missed you so, so much!

It's about time, Dean. I missed you, man! The cottage has been too quiet without your snores!

Finally! You stubborn sonofabitch, welcome back!

Father's light continued to penetrate him, and Dean flung open all of his doors, allowing the teacher access without reserve, humbling himself before his guru, grateful for the bounty he'd provided, thanking him for healing the wounds caused by his own ego. He shivered thinking how close he'd come to blowing it-winced with shame at remembering how he'd run, how he'd fought-how he'd let trivial possessions and attachments get in the way of his spiritual growth. Nothing would ever come between his duty to Father and The Kindred ever again. What a fool he'd been-an ungrateful, selfish fool.

The sage broke away, gazing upon his student, his eyes purling with mercy and grace, caressing Dean's cheek. The new Adept reached up, touching the back of Father's hands in awe and love.

"Thank you Father," Dean said, knowing it was a feeble gesture, nothing close to expressing the love and adoration he felt. The teacher kissed his brow and helped him to his feet, though the assistance was unneeded. Dean felt as though he could fly. Father smiled and pointed to the amulet hanging around Dean's neck.

"A small toy for Father, yes?"

Without a word, Dean took the amulet off and gazed at Father with a shining smile. "For you, Father." He passed the necklace over his guru's head.

"I shall wear this as a token of your love Adept. It will bind us and serve as a reminder of the path we traveled together throughout your Ordeal. When your father abandoned you, I was there to shelter you. When your brother chose another path, I dried your tears." Father said.

Honored that Father would want to wear something of his, Dean flushed, overcome with emotion. All he could do was kiss his teacher's hand. "Yes, Father," he said, near tears. "Thank you. It's a gift I give with all my heart."

"Return to your family, Adept. Join with them and continue to please me until I call upon you to complete your journey as an Enlightened One."

Dean took Father's hand and kissed the palm. He wished he could be as eloquent as Jason had been, but all that came out was, "I'm ready, Father. Whatever you want or need, I'm there. I got your back, I swear it." Dean turned and ran into the open arms of his friends, feeling more alive, more loved, more a part of something than he'd ever felt in his entire life. This was his family, and he was home.

They spent the rest of the Sacred Haoma Ceremony in ecstatic worship. Fairy became a Disciple and both Kimo and Dante received their Blessed Transformations and became Enlightened Ones. The ayahuasca coursed through Dean's veins; only this time not once did he withdraw into himself. There was no sense of separateness, no hell, no isolation-just a perfect synthetic fusion of spirits, a beautiful blending of hearts and minds.

And he rejoiced and celebrated alongside his brothers and sisters until the sun was on the horizon.
**ॐ**Dean moved someone's arm off his neck, lifted his achy head and peered around the orchard. He was in the center of a mass of bodies, snuggling for warmth like a litter of puppies, huddled where they dropped, too exhausted, too intoxicated with Father's spirit and caapi root to make it to their cottages. Dean scratched his head and ran a sleepy hand down his face, puzzling out how he was going to extricate himself. With a small woof, he let his head fall back for a moment. The ground was cold and damp, but warmth radiated off of his brothers and sisters and he took refuge in them, relaxing into their pleasant heat with a contented sigh.
Twelve days.

Dean turned his head in the direction of Brad's voice but noticed that they boy's eyes were closed and his mouth still.

Twelve damn days.

Dean lifted his brows in surprise. Brad said nothing, but his thoughts were as clear and loud in Dean's head as if they'd been spoken right into his ear.

Brad snickered. "Twelve days," he said again, aloud this time, opening his eyes. "That's how long you've been gone. You crazy bastard."

"Why go when you can go big?" Dean snorted dryly, shifting as he tried to slip out from under one of Gypsy's legs that she'd draped over his waist. He didn't want to disturb her, but nature was calling. The girl made a sleepy murmur and opened her eyes.

"Dean," she stretched and reached for him, hugging his neck from behind, her head resting by his ear. "Good morning sunshine! We missed you so much."

Dean gave her a lopsided smile. "I missed you guys, too."

"How was it? Was it everything you thought it would be? Did Father's love protect you?"

He leaned against her, remembering the darkness that Father had expelled. "It was a beautiful experience. Father was with me the whole time. His patience saw me through."

"I was afraid for you. It took so long, Dean. I was worried you weren't coming back."

"What? And miss your hugs? Though, you're kinda chokin' me," he said with a gasp as she squeezed him harder.

"Oh, sorry!" she said, easing her grip. "We were thinking of you all the time, though. We were afraid something had gone wrong."

"Nothing but my big, fat ego. You know what I was like. It's all good. Father saved me."

"And do you feel different?"

Dean had to think about her question a moment. He did and he didn't. The change was hard to pin down or articulate. He was still himself, of course, but he no longer felt the fear and worry that he once did. After having gone through his Ordeal, his priorities had shifted. Everything made perfect sense to him, now. He'd been egotistical and selfish trying to hold onto John and Sam. Father had been wise and right to insist that he let them go, he could see that now. There was no way for him to walk this path with Father while attached to John and Sam like he'd been. They had their own paths to follow, and now he had his. He loved them still. He just didn't need them. He certainly didn't need them to love him, didn't need their approval-another manifestation of his out-of-control ego that Father had tamed.

"Of course," Dean said at last.

"You ran. It was awful, Dean. My heart ached for you," Gypsy said.

Brad chuckled. "You sure gave us a run for our money."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Dean said, his face flushing red. He hated to think what would have happened had he gotten away, but then again, he realized, Father would never have let that happen. His teacher had been watching out for him, keeping him from doing damage, saving him from himself. "I'm not going anywhere, now. I was being an idiot."

Gypsy nestled in close. I'm so glad, she said into his mind. I missed you, so.

It surprised and delighted him to feel her presence so strong and vibrant.

He tested his own abilities. I missed you, too, he shot back telepathically, and Gypsy laughed aloud.

"You're getting it!" She kissed his cheek. Dean patted her arm and rose from the pile of bodies as the others began to stir.

"He rises from the ashes," Jason said, cracking an eye. "Hey, we should call you Phoenix," he suggested.

Dean snorted and stretched. "I'm not taking on any pansy-ass nickname unless Father gives me one," he said, wincing as his joints creaked and popped. His teacher had healed him, but he was desperately thin from his Ordeal, and there was no longer a buffer between him and the hard ground. His hips jutted out like handlebars. He'd be grateful to get off the ground and sleep in his cot.

"Party pooper," Jason joked.

"You should talk. I don't see you taking on any names like Sun-muffin or Rainbow-lollipop."

Jason scoffed. "Don't need to. Jason is a badass name, like Jason and the Argonauts and his quest for the Golden Fleece."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Brad interjected. "That Jason was married to a shrew, too. Medea. Kind of fitting, wouldn't you say?" Jason's face fell at that. Mei was obviously still a touchy subject. "Sorry man," Brad said. "That was insensitive of me."

"No, you're right. She's out of control." Jason turned to Brad.

"Out of control?" Dean asked. "What's happening?"

"Mei's been picketing our recruitment drives and now has about twenty family members involved. Marc's been filing petition after petition to get the harassment to stop. Things have been busy since your Ordeal began," Jason said.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry," Dean said, and then he slumped a little. "Listen, I'm also sorry about what I said, before-back before my Ordeal. About Mei-I was out of line, man. I get it now. I do."

Jason nodded and gripped Dean's extended arm, accepting the helping hand. "Don't worry about it, Dean," he said, getting to his feet and brushing off his trousers. "She's kind of moved into creepy, crazy wife territory. Don't worry, though. Marc will help take care of it. Father said he'd get involved if he had to, so it'll all get sorted out one way or another."

"You ready for some breakfast and meditation?" Brad asked, also getting up and stretching.

"Hell yeah," Dean said. "Bathroom and shower first, though." He sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

There was a flash of movement as a body scurried off to the side and ran into the bush. Dean looked over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows at the other Adepts. "Fairy?"

Jason grinned. "She's yakking her brains out. Ayahuasca virgin."

"Disciples," Brad said with a saucy grin. "Y'gotta love ‘em."
**ॐ**
As an Adept, Dean now enjoyed all the rights and privileges that went with the title. He was free to move about the compound, free to come and go as needed in order to carry out Father's wishes. He'd also earned the right to accompany the Community Outreach Team by working the farmer's market and taking part in recruitment drives.

Things were definitely different as an Adept. Physical hunger had completely disappeared while his spiritual appetite had grown insatiable, and he meditated and worshipped ravenously, never able to get enough, stopping only when Father compelled him. He ate, drank and slept only to keep his body alive-the rituals no more satisfying than any other physical chore like brushing his teeth and taking cold showers. He spent time on his physical needs in order to serve Father better, and that was it.

Yes, Father had helped to conquer his ego, but Dean was not the mindless zombie he mistook The Kindred to be when he first met them. He was able to think for himself. Father had helped him to prioritize better-nothing more. One thing that hadn't changed at all was the love he had for his family, but again, Father had helped him realize who his family truly was. His family was right here with him, embracing and accepting him. There was no baggage with these people, no struggle, no having to prove himself, no fears that they would leave, no nagging self-doubt that he wasn't good enough. The Kindred loved him. Their energies flowed through him like blood: thick, purifying, and sustaining.

And the genuine camaraderie, fellowship, love and humor shared between them was more satisfying than anything he'd ever known. They wanted him; they valued him; they even poked good-natured fun at him, and, of course, he always gave back as good as he got.

Life was perfect within The Kindred. Communication with them now was more intimate and genuine than when he'd been an Initiate or Disciple. Speech was not necessary, and yet they took delight in talking with each other, verbalizing their thoughts so that Disciples and Initiates would not feel marginalized. This was a wise choice, since Fairy was getting twitchy and anxious, already experiencing the beginnings of her ego's rebellion. Dean kept a close eye on her. She was vulnerable now. She needed him even if she didn't realize it or want his help.

Dean could hear her thoughts much of the time. Her fears and attachments played out before him in flashes and snatches. The connection between them was not as strong as it was between Adepts, perhaps, but he was certainly able to pick up on her thoughts better than she could pick up on his. It was by Father's grace that he had given Adepts this gift, and Dean was grateful for the ability. He was better able to anticipate her questions, her moods, her needs even before she knew them herself. Father would help her through her Ordeal when the time came, of course, but it was his and The Kindred's privilege to help her make it to that point. He wouldn't let her or Father down. Adepts took their responsibilities toward Disciples and Initiates very seriously, and he went out of his way to make her feel loved and needed, sending out his energy to her, letting her know how important she was to them.

The best part about being an Adept, though, was his one-on-one training sessions with Father. Being in the sage's presence and receiving personal instruction energized and thrilled him. Adepts had weekly sessions with Father, and this was Dean's third session since his Ordeal.

"Preparing your soul for full symbiosis is essential, my son," Father said as he moved his arm in a sweeping arc.

Dean mimicked the movement, mirroring Father's motions precisely, opening himself enough to predict what gestures or movements Father would make, aping them at the exact same time. The sage bent his head forward with a quick thrust and stuck out his tongue. Dean's cloned movement was flawless, his concentration acute.

"Yes, Father."

"Your anticipation of my choices is strong, but you must evolve from anticipation to syncopation, from syncopation to unification, yes?" Father moved his hands faster and faster while Dean matched every motion without faltering.

"Yes Father."

"As an Initiate you fought your heart, and you learned to love me. As a Disciple you fought your ego, and you learned to obey me. As an Adept you must prepare to your soul for your Blessed Transformation, my obedient child. As a Master-as an Enlightened One-your soul will express its love and obedience by nourishing Father, yes? A perfect symbiosis! Do you desire to nourish me, Warrior?"

"More than anything, Father. There is no me, Father. There is only you," Dean said, following the guru's rapid movements.

"You are learning fast, my child. Your loyalty is unparalleled."

Dean smiled. "Really?"

"It's true, you know," Father continued. "Not every Adept is fit for blending. Some are better suited to serve as workers and recruiters. But you, my son-" Father eyes swept over him from head to toe. "You will not long stay an Adept. I feel it strongly. Your soul shines too bright to remain autonomous. I need your light within me."

Dean flushed with Father's praise. The teacher performed an intricate set of hand gestures and facial expressions that Dean matched with no lag or delay. Father dropped his hands. So did Dean.

"Well done, my Warrior," Father said, releasing him. "We will stop for now. Continue to prepare your soul for The Blessed Transformation. I believe it will happen sooner rather than later. You are special, and I hunger to share eternity with you."

Dean slipped to his knees and bent, kissing the hem of Father's tunic. "I look forward to that day, Father."

The guru reached out his hand and placed it on Dean's head. "I know you do. In the meantime, you will prepare your vehicle-your automobile-to be sold, yes? When next The Kindred venture out into the world to find future Initiates, you will take your toy and place it conspicuously with a sign showing your intent to sell. Are you agreeable?"

"Of course, Father. The Outreach Team will be going into town tomorrow. I'll get it ready and take it with me," Dean said.

Father toyed with the amulet around his neck. "Your loyalty pleases me greatly, Adept."
**ॐ**
"Mind if I ride along?" Brad asked.

Dean peered around the open trunk where he was removing the last of his old hunting equipment "Not at all. I'll be ready in just a sec. Here," he said. "Give me a hand and set this stuff in the corner over there. I'll sort through it when we get back."

Brad shook his head at the miscellaneous items as Dean filled his arms. "Salt? What did you need that for?"

"Protection. Repels nasties-ghosts, demons, black dogs-a crap ton of creatures."

"You're kidding…" Brad said, incredulous.

"And," Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "It always came in handy when they'd forget to salt the fries at a drive-thru."

"Damn, what a crazy life you lived before coming here. What're these?" Brad held up a couple of flasks.

"That one is holy water-another repellant. It can also serve as supernatural Bactine for bites and cuts from the evil sonsabitches. Some things can poison you if they break the skin. Holy water helps. It purifies and cleanses the body of supernatural toxins. Saved my life a couple of times."

"And this one?" Brad wiggled the other flask.

"Another lifesaver," Dean said with a grin. "Whiskey!"

"Heh," Brad snorted.

Dean dropped the lid to the false bottom and closed the trunk. "Come on, move it. Put that stuff down and let's go. The others will be there already."

"You do realize that passing out flyers isn't all that interesting, right?"

Dean slid into the driver's seat. "Maybe not, but I kinda want to stretch my legs. I haven't been off the farm since I got here. I've been an Adept for weeks now. "

"Right. Well, don't expect too much. Most people don't want anything to do with us. And Jason's wife might be there with her group to heckle and harass us." Brad slid into the passenger seat and closed the door, his hand patting behind him, fingers searching for something they weren't finding. "Dude, where's your seatbelts?"

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. He put the key in the ignition and then stopped. "Crap. Just a sec," he said, getting out and heading to the workbench. He moved a few things around and grabbed his cellphone and charger. Getting in the car, he gave Brad a sheepish grin. "Thought I'd have a little cellphone-release party at the nearest trash bin in town."

Brad gave him a proud nod. "Sounds good, man."

Dean flipped open the cellphone to turn it off, but then stopped. "Huh," he said, staring at the display.

"What?"

"My fa-my dad called a few days ago. Left some coordinates."

"Coordinates?" Brad asked as Dean scrolled through the display, not paying attention to him. "Coordinates?" he asked again.

Dean reluctantly pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Uh, yeah," he said. "That's how he always sent me on jobs." He continued to scroll through the list. "Bobby called too-last week."

"Who's that?"

"Another hunter."

Brad sat a moment and then twisted in his seat. "I thought you wanted to go, man. Come on. There're going to be no more flyers to hand out if you don't move your ass. I know how much standing on a street corner, drumming up business appeals to you. Shoulda gotten you a boa."

"Hilarious." Dean gave the man sour smirk. He dropped the cellphone onto the seat. "Okay," he said. "Let's go meet ‘Joe Public'."

As Dean pulled out and felt the familiar rumble beneath him, there was a panging jolt, a sense-memory, maybe-and with it came a feeling of profound loss, of panic and desperation-that bubbled up from some deep, locked place. He slammed on the brakes and gripped the steering wheel, twisting it, instinctively flinched away from the memory or whatever it was, seeking out Father's guidance. Immediately, the sage responded, his power flowing through the Adept, chasing down the thought until it withered and fled, spirited away by the guru's grace.

"You okay?" He heard Brad's voice ask.

Dean settled and drew breath, thanking his teacher for restoring his peace and equilibrium. "Yeah," he said drawing his hand across his eyes. He settled in his seat and drove forward, no longer able to pinpoint exactly what he'd experienced. He only knew that it had been unpleasant and that Father had removed the threat.

"You sure?"

Dean glanced over at Brad and then back to the road. "Yeah, I don't think it was anything. Just a twinge. Father took care of it."

"He always does."
**ॐ**
"There they are." Dean slowed the car and pulled to the side. "I'll drop you off here and pull around the corner. I need to park where the car won't be towed if we leave it for a while."

"You got the For Sale sign Marc made?"

"Yeah, has the phone number of the business office on it for anyone to contact. I'll make sure it's in the back window," he said.

Brad got out of the car. "Okay, see you in a minute."

"Yep," Dean said, looking past the Jedi and waving to Gypsy as she flapped a bundle of flyers at him.

"Yay!" she yelled. "You're here. Bet I can pass out more than you!"

"You're on," he said with a grin.

Dean pulled away as soon as Brad shut the door and found the nearest parking spot out beyond the tow-away zone. Old Fairhaven was the small artisan district in Bellingham, small enough to require no meters. Dean just had to find a parking place where the greatest number of people would see the car but where it wouldn't block traffic. He found an ideal location between two cobblestone alleyways near a pottery shop and bakery. Parking, he taped the sign to the back window and grabbed his cellphone, walking away without a backward glance. He spotted a public trashcan across the street and started jogging toward it.

"Dean?" a breathy voice came from behind him. "Dean Simmons?" Dean raised a brow and turned.

There was Mei, holding a homemade sign of some sort, no more than thirty feet away. She shot hasty glances to either side, checking for traffic and ran across the road to him.

"Dean! Where have y-" She stopped, rooted in mid-stride, noticing his Jedi tunic, trousers and sandals.

Well, shit. Dean thought. Creepy, crazy wife alert! he called out to the other Adepts, letting them know they had a situation brewing. He gave her a wooden smile and a nod.

"Heya Dr. Mei."

She remained in the middle of the road until a car came up and honked its horn. The woman startled and moved out of the way, coming closer to Dean. "My god," she said at last. "My god, Dean. What happened to you? Tell me you're not with that group," she said, her eyes sweeping over him. "Tell me you're not with them."

Dean fiddled with the cellphone in his hand. "So, uh, it's been a while. How you been?"

"Are you one of them? Is Jason here?" she asked, her voice accusing.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh-um, I've been with them for a while, now, yeah…" he said.

"Is Jason with you?" she asked again.

"He didn't come with us today, no."

She shook her head, gathering her thoughts, her lips tight. "Why Dean?"

Dean raised a brow. "Why what?"

"Why are you with these people?" She moved closer, her face full of concern and, Dean noted, hurt and betrayal. "I was so worried about you. They said at the hospital that you just left, didn't even bother to check out and-" She continued to take in his appearance. "My god, you're nothing but skin and bones. Dean, what has that nutjob of a cult-leader done to you? Is Jason in the same condition?"

"No one's done anything to me, Mei," he said, viewing her now as a threat to his teacher. She'd no right to talk about Father like that. "Jason's fine. We're all fine. We're happy, Mei." He moved away, dismissive, wanting to get to the garbage can and out of this awkward situation.

"Happy?" she scoffed, following him. "They're starving you, Dean. You looked healthier when you were fresh out of surgery and delirious with a fever. How did this happen? How could you let that man manipulate you?"

Dean wheeled on her. "You don't know what you're talking about, Mei. Father saved me. He's everything, and I'm sorry for you that you can't see that. I'm sorry you can't let Jason be happy."

"Jason's not happy," she said adamantly. "He's been brainwashed, and so have you. Good god, Dean, how can you not see that?" She stood a moment, desperate and torn. Reaching out to try and take his hand, she lowered her voice. "Dean, come with me. Please. Just come away from those people. I'll make sure you're safe. I swear I'll get you whatever help you need. Come with me-right now. Just walk away."

Dean stepped back and laughed. In a way her twisted sense of concern touched him. She'd always been good to him-always went above and beyond, trying to fix him. He appreciated her innate kindness, but he still laughed heartily. It wasn't polite, perhaps, because her jaw squared and she folded her arms, more hurt than offended, but he couldn't help himself. He laughed again. "I don't need help, Mei. Look, I know you mean well, but you've got this all wrong. You don't have a clue about Father." Dean's heart swelled with love for his guru, and he sent out his energies to him, thanking him, praying to him for strength and guidance in dealing with Mei. "But he could help you. He could. I know he could help you in so many ways. Jason would love for you to come for a visit. Just come for a few days." Father's power swelled within him and his spine began to tingle. There was a whoosh and a thick, buzzing, centripetal force of power pooling in his spine that suddenly snaked up his back and into his head. He lost all sensation in his body as Father's presence overwhelmed him.

Mei seemed to sense the power shift, too, or at least sense a change in Dean. A look of horror swept across her face, and Dean knew in that moment that she was not seeing him.

"Your eyes!" she gasped.

She was seeing Father.

"You are worthy, daughter," Father said, now taking full possession of Dean's body, speaking through him. Dean could see through his eyes but only as an observer. "You are loyal and true. I have such need for people like you."

Mei paled, but she composed herself and defiance overtook her fear. "You son of a bitch. It's you, isn't it? What have you done to this boy?"

"I've cured what you could not," Father said with pride. "I've healed what your medicines failed to remedy."

"Let him go. I'm going to get Dean and Jason away from you, if have to kill you myself."

"Shhh" Father pressed a finger to Dean's lips. "I would be careful, little plum. My power grows strong, and my children will not allow you to hurt me. If you try, they will defend me. Count on that. No, my child. If you will not take healing from me yourself, I would have you lick your wounds elsewhere. If you trouble me or my children again, I will protect what's mine. Besides," he said as an afterthought. "I can easily put Jason and Dean out of your reach and beyond your grasp forever. They are both ready to take the final step on their path to Enlightenment. I will keep my children safe from you." With that, Father's power slithered back, withdrawing from Dean's body, giving the young man control again. Dean slipped to his knees, dizzy and gasping from such close contact with the sage.

"Dean?" Mei said, bending down, eyeing him.

"I'm fine," he said, rising.

"Oh my God, Dean. Christ. You've got to come with me." She looked past him and swore. "God damn it."

Dean turned and saw Brad, Gypsy and several others hurrying in their direction. ‘Bout time you guys got here, he said to them.

"I'm not going to give up, Dean," Mei said, backing away from him, knowing that she was outnumbered. "I'm going to find a way. I swear to you, I'm going to get Jason out, and I'll get you out, too. I'll find a way."

"What's going on here?" Brad said, coming up and gripping a giddy, tottering Dean. "Get away from him."

Dean turned drunkenly to Brad. "He touched me," Dean said. "Father was inside of me. It was the most wonderful thing."

Brad stopped scowling at Mei long enough to smile at Dean. "That's good Dean. Let's go. We've got flyers to hand out." He turned to Mei. "You stay the hell away from him, you hear me? This is no concern of yours."

"Your leader is a monster," Mei told him. "He's a monster, and you're not the only ones who are loyal. I'm loyal to my husband, and I will get him away from that creature."

"Like hell you will," Brad snarled.

Dean pulled Brad away. "Let's just go, man. She doesn't understand." Dean gave Mei a sympathetic eye. He turned to go but then spun toward her. "Jason's happy. Don't ruin it for him, Mei." He tossed the cellphone into the garbage bin and then walked away, joining the rest of The Kindred.
**ॐ**
"Hold still, let me see," Brad said, peeling Dean's tunic away from his shoulder, revealing the toothy wound.

"Sonofabitch," Dean hissed.

"It's a scratch," Brad said. "If it doesn't heal, we'll ask Father to help. We can't run to him for every scrape, though. That'd be a waste of his power. I'll just clean it with soap and water and put a couple of band-aids on it. You should be fine."

"Soap and water? Hell," Dean huffed. "Get me the holy water. I think that little Fairy may have been rabid.  Damn, she got me good."

"Poor Fairy," Gypsy said.

"Poor Fairy?" Dean complained. "Poor Fairy? I'm the one wounded, here."

Gypsy moved close and examined the bruising wound. "She was just scared."

"She was vicious."

Jason examined the bite-mark and winced. "I seem to recall a certain Disciple who also made a memorable break for it when it came time for his Ordeal. You remember that snarling, crazy Disciple, Brad?"

"You mean the guy who ran shrieking like a girl through the forest?"

"That's the one," Jason's said, his eyes twinkling at Dean.

"I did not shriek," Dean said with heat. "And I sure as hell didn't bite anyone."

"No, you just crippled Dante and gave poor Kimo a concussion," Jason laughed. "You did such a number on them that Father had to heal them."

"Speaking of Kimo and Dante-I can't believe you sonsabitches are going to be seeing them soon," Brad said with envy. "It's totally unfair. Gypsy and I have been Adepts for a lot longer than the both of you."

Dean and Jason looked at each other and couldn't hide their smiles. Father had told them that they would both be undergoing their Blessed Transformations at the next Sacred Haoma Ceremony once Fairy's Ordeal was complete. Dean thought it might have something to do with Mei's threats, and he hoped that he had not bumped more deserving Adepts from their rightful places in line. Nevertheless, he was too happy to care. Soon he'd be with Father forever.

"Father has been generous beyond my wildest expectations," Jason said. "But don't worry. I'm sure you two will not be far behind."

"I can't wait to see Maureen again," Dean said, his face shining. "Hopefully Fairy's Ordeal won't last as long as mine did."

"No one's Ordeal is going to ever last as long as yours did," Brad said, teasing. "Fairy may have been a vicious biter, but she could never be that stubborn. I say four days, tops. Bets?"

"What's the point of betting when we won't be here to collect," Dean mused.

"Hey Dean," Marc called from the doorway. All four Adepts turned in unison as he entered the pavilion. "We got a call from someone who wants to buy your car. Didn't even try and talk us down in price. He's willing to pay what Father's asking. Can you head into town with me? I'm supposed to meet him at five o'clock. I'll need you to be there to sign the papers."

Again, there was a flutter of sadness that escaped from some deep place within Dean. Everyone in the room felt it, and they turned to him.

"You okay, Dean?" Brad said.

Dean frowned. "I think so," he said, feeling the flutter again. "I don't know."

Gypsy took his hand and began chanting. "Fill me with your love, Father! Salve my wounds and heal my heart. I give myself to you. Yoke my ego and mold my will. Hold my heart and keep my soul. I bind my life to yours..."

All five Jedis remained in the spell of chanting until Father released them and they stopped their chorus. When he opened his eyes, Dean felt a burden lift, whatever stray thought had worried him, it had decayed under Father's touch. He drew a deep breath.

"Better?" Gypsy asked.

"Much. Thanks to Father," Dean said. He turned to Marc. "Right. The car. I'm ready to sign whatever you need. Let's go."
**ॐ**
"That sure didn't take too long," Marc said. "Only took a week to find a buyer."

"Who knew beater cars were in such demand? That's awesome," Brad agreed, sniffing and shaking the Pacific Northwest drizzle out of his shaggy hair.

Dean watched as Brad and Gypsy paced around, waiting. They'd come along for support, but they were all getting antsy. The buyer was late.

Dean leaned against the trunk of the Impala tossing the keys from one hand to the other while he idly kicked a rock against the curb with his sandal. "It's a classic car, not a beater, smartass," Dean schooled him. "She's a cherry ride. Who wouldn't want her?"

"Her?" Gypsy asked with a laugh.

Dean just shrugged. "She was my baby," he said with no emotion. He looked over at Marc. "Did the dude say when he was going to be here? We've been waiting over half an hour. I don't want to miss the start of evening devotionals."

"Maybe that's him, now," Marc said as a black van pulled around the corner and slowed.

"Finally," Dean said, straightening up and pushing away from the car as the van came to a stop right next to them. He didn't want the buyer to think he had no respect. After all, the car was no longer his.

"Why don't you pull up ahead?" Marc called out to the driver, but the slight person in the driver's seat never turned, never made a move or acknowledged them in any way. "Hey!"

Dean noticed the driver wore a thick sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, covering his head. As he waited for the guy to park or do something, thinking how odd it was that he wore sunglasses on such a rainy day, Dean felt a bee sting the back of his neck.

"Ow, sonofabitch!" he huffed, wincing in pain and annoyance, moving a hand to brush the insect off him. He looked down at his hand, confused and uncomprehending, staring at a small, feathered dart in his palm. "What the hell?" He glanced up at the others whose attentions seemed to be riveted somewhere behind him. Dean turned to see, but his vision warped and twisted chaotically, and everything slowed to a torturous, dopey crawl. He heard Gypsy scream and noticed the others scattering and ducking, leaving Dean pivoting, torpid and sloth-like, trying to see what had everyone so terrified.

When he saw what was coming straight at him, he tried to get out of the way, but his balance was all wrong and he stumbled, taking a few tottering steps sideways, not at all the direction he'd intended to go.

"Wait," was all he could say before impact. The dark figure barreled down on him, running full-tilt from the alley, a gun extended menacingly. Head down like a linebacker, the man slammed into Dean as if he was a target dummy, propelling him backward so fast and furiously that the man lifted the young Jedi off the ground with a surprised grunt. Straight through the now-open door of the van they sailed, landing as one with a thud, knocking the air out of his lungs. Dean heard some shouts and screams, people calling his name from far away.

"Go! Go, go, go!" a deep, booming voice echoed in his ears. A door slammed and there was a squeal of tires along with a sickening surge of acceleration. Everything writhed and spun, and Dean retched as a wave of nausea hit him.

He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it was bad and he knew that he was in desperate trouble. Dean struggled to call out to the one person he knew would help him. Taking in a gulp of air, he cried his name, begging.

"Father!"

Through the descending darkness, Dean heard a deep voice answer him. "I'm right here, Dean," it said as consciousness fluttered away, scattering the words like leaves in a whirlwind. "You're going to be all right, Champ. I'm here, now. I got you, son. I got you."

Continue to Chapter 11