Eternal Sentinel

by Freya-Kendra

Summary:  Vampires are on the prowl in Cascade, but one of them is not hunting for blood.  Can Jim deny the calling of a real, ancient sentinel?  A tale told in 13 parts that explores the nature of the sentinel/guide relationship.

Warnings:  Some adult content, but nothing explicit.

~1~

Simon Banks took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before returning his attention to the small group of detectives who had gathered in the conference room.

"I don't want to hear one more word about vampires or Dracula or anything else of that nature," he said, his voice tired but firm.  "Especially out there," he pointed toward the outer window with his thumb, "where the public--or worse, reporters--can hear what you're saying.  What we're dealing with is a murderer, pure and simple--a serial killer who either gets a rush out of trying to give us the heebie-jeebies by imitating old horror stories--"

"Or who actually believes he's a vampire," Blair Sandburg interrupted.  "What?"  He added when half a dozen skeptical gazes moved his way.  "We can't rule that out.  Look, I'm not implying that vampires are real in the sense that--"

"Don't tell us you're implying vampires can be real in any sense," Henri said.

Blair grimaced.  "All I'm saying is that it is entirely possible the killer thinks he's a vampire.  There are people out there who try to live out dark fantasies about vampirism.  I've heard of dentists who have capped people's canine teeth with actual fangs."

Jim Ellison, at least, seemed to take him seriously.  "You think he's actually using his own teeth?"

"It's possible," Cassie chimed in.  "Blair's right.  And those aren't just stories about fake fangs.  I saw a very real set of them on a murder victim down in San Francisco."

"I didn't think vampires could get murdered," Taggart quipped back.

"Not unless the murder weapon was a wooden stake," Henri answered.

Simon sighed heavily and shook his head at the resulting laughter.  "Come on, people.  Let's not forget we've got three dead co-eds sitting in the morgue."

Cassie cleared her throat.  "I'm sorry, Captain.  I think we're all just a little tired."

"And a lot nervous," Blair added.  "No matter how logical any of us tries to be, I don't think it's possible not to get freaked out by a series of crimes like this.  Humankind has been both fascinated and terrified by stories associated with vampirism since the dawn of civilization, or maybe even before that.  We can't just shrug off all the stories we've heard when we find ourselves faced with something that mimics those stories so perfectly.  Laughter is a natural defense mechanism that enables us to cope with--"

"Okay, Sandburg," Simon said loudly.  "We don't need a lecture on the subject.  Let's just try to pull ourselves together here and start doing some real detective work so we can catch a very real killer before he kills again."

The answer came with a series of nods, a few "yes, sirs," and at least one "of course, sir", as the detectives began to file out of the room.

"And watch what you say out there," Simon shouted to their retreating backs.

~2~

"I don't like this, Jim," Blair said later that night as the two men walked across a dark parking lot to reach an even darker building.  "A blackout on Devil's Night while we're in the middle of a case involving a vampire impersonator, I mean, it's all just a little too freakishly coincidental.  What if the--"

"Shh."  Jim stopped and held up his hand to silence his partner.

"What is it?"  Blair whispered nervously.

"Quiet," Jim insisted, his eyes already focused somewhere else.

Blair could feel his heart beating heavily against his chest.  His throat seemed to be constricting, affecting his ability to breath.  He tried to concentrate on moving air in and out of his lungs, but the effort did nothing to alleviate an overwhelming desire to run away--even though he had no idea what he'd be running away from, or where he should begin running to.

A long moment later, Jim shook his head. 

"What?" Blair asked again.  "What was it?"

"It was just--I don't know; a feeling I guess."

"A feeling?  What kind of feeling?"

"I got the sense that we were being watched, but I couldn't pick up anything with either my hearing or my vision."

"What about smell, or touch, or ... or taste?  Can you think of any way that feeling affected you physically?"  This was good.  Focusing on the science of sentinels was a great way to fight off Blair's growing anxiety.

With another shake of his head, Jim turned around slowly, still gazing outward.  "Pins and needles," he said.  "It felt like pins and needles all over my body.  It still does.  And it smells like, like blood."

"Yes."

Blair jumped at the sound of an unfamiliar voice behind him.  He knew instantly that when his body had told him to run, he should have listened to it.  Now, suddenly, he had no hope of running anywhere.  His feet seemed to be glued to the concrete beneath him.  His entire body was frozen.  Nothing worked, nothing except his own, sparse senses--which began to smell what Jim had already described: the scent of blood.

"You are a sentinel," the voice said.  "You have many strong senses, yet you give too little attention to the ones you now describe."

"Step aside, Sandburg," Jim said, his eyes never straying from the stranger at his partner's back.

Jim?  Blair's mouth was useless, his voice nothing more than an inner cry.  I can't Jim.  Something's wrong.  Why can't I move?  Why can't I even speak?

"He is your guide?" The voice said.  "And your shaman?"

Jim said nothing.

"He should not be so easily controlled."

"Release him," Jim said then.

"He should learn to release himself.  There are other dark forces in existence in this world, things that the human tribe must be protected against.  If you truly believe yourselves partnered to provide that protection, then you both must let go of your human constraints."

"Release him."

"His own weakness holds him; his own fear.  I protect him by standing at his back.  Were he to see my eyes, it would be different.  But I am not here to cause harm."

"You murdered three young women."

"No.  Not me.  I do not prey on the innocent."

"Why are you here?"

There was the sound of cynical laughter.  "You do not ask 'what are you?'  You already accept, because your senses tell you that you must.  I find this to be interesting."

"Why are you here?"  Jim repeated.

"I, too, am a sentinel, sworn to protect the human tribe."

"Yet you are not human."

"I once was, long ago."

"Why did you change?"

Another small laugh.  "You do not ask 'how,' only 'why.'  Truly interesting.  Very well, I changed because I was too weak to protect the tribe from the beasts who slaughtered them in the night.  I changed to absorb the strength of those beasts.  I changed to save the tribe."

"And did you save them?"

"I did.  But not before many were lost.  The toll was high.  The heart of the tribe remained, but the soul was forever spoiled.  I do not wish to see other tribes torn apart as mine was.  I come to you now to warn you and to help you."

"Why?"

"Because you are what I was, all those years, all those ... generations ago.  I see myself in you."

"You are nothing like me."

That laugh again.  "I was exactly like you.  And now I can help you to become exactly like me, so you can protect your tribe from a threat no human can hope to combat."

"We'll manage."

"Such arrogance, yet you ignored what your senses told you of me until I was close enough to drain your guide; and your guide, your shaman, is too weak to recognize that he need not succumb to the pull of my mere presence.  You need me, human sentinel.  In time, perhaps you will be wise enough to accept this truth.  Until then, I suggest you keep your women close beside you--for the beast you seek, seeks them."

An instant later, Blair felt the taut pull on his body relax, as though he were a puppet and the string supporting him had been cut.  He took a deep breath and stumbled toward his partner. 

"Jim?"  He swiveled around to see only a dark, empty parking lot behind him.  "That was ... was that ...?"  He took another deep breath.  "Do you really think he's here to help us?"

But Jim only stared off into the distance.

"What was that about our women?  What women?"

Finally, Jim breathed, his own spell apparently broken.  "Cassie?"  He seemed lost, confused.  "He means Cassie."  An instant later, he raced back toward the truck.

~3~

Cassie let the stranger into her apartment.  It was crazy.  It was insane.  The man hadn't even knocked.  Cassie simply went to the door as though she knew he would be there.  She opened it, and then stood helplessly dazed by the man's dark eyes as he brushed past her, took the door softly from her hand and closed it firmly behind him.  Bells and whistles were ringing in Cassie's brain, warning her of imminent danger.  But her brain was not in control of her--her body was.  And her body clearly wanted this man, this stranger, to do whatever it was he had come to do.

A few moments later, they were both on the couch acting out some lurid, romantic tale.  Romeo had come to take Juliet.  The only problem with that picture was Juliet had never even met Romeo before.

My god, Cassie screamed out in some still lucid corner of her mind, he's going to rape me and I'm not even trying to struggle.  The fact was, she couldn't struggle.  She couldn't even scream, not in any real, physical sense.  She couldn't do anything at all except respond to his tender kisses.  And she responded all right.  She soon found herself nearly panting with desire. 

When a single tear spilled from the corner of her eye, she was not sure whether it was fear or desperate longing that drove it there.

And then, when one of his extra long, razor-sharp canines bit into the meat of her lower lip, the gasp she released was as much for pleasure as for pain.  She found her own tongue meeting his as she tested the feel of that incredible, horrific tooth.

He pulled his mouth away.

She could barely breathe--did not want to breathe--could not imagine breathing without the delicious feel of his lips, his tongue, his teeth upon her.

Yes, she thought, even as some deeper part of her cried out No! Don't let him!  Run!  Get out of there!  But the cry was too deep and utterly useless.  It fell away until it drowned in its own echoes.

Hurry!  She begged in silence.  She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, could smell the herbal shampoo in his thick, black hair as it brushed up against her cheek.  God, yes, she thought, ironically wondering what God could possibly have to do with any of this.  She could feel herself reaching an almost orgasmic state as he licked at the tender skin.  Yes, yes, she thought.  Do it!  Do it, damn you!  Do it now!

But as his teeth sliced into her throat, there was no pleasure at all, only pure, dark agonizing pain.

* * *

She was crying.  She could not remember waking up; couldn't even remember falling asleep.  She could only remember the stranger's teeth at her throat, and then this moment, in which she was crying on Blair Sandburg's shoulder.

"Hang on, Cassie," he said.  "Ambulance is on the way." 

He had a cloth pressed firmly against the wound in her throat.  It made it hard for her to breathe, even harder to talk.  But she had to try.

"Where...."  Words were definitely a struggle.  "Where...." she tried again.

"He's gone.  He jumped out the window after Jim broke down your door."

"How...."

"I know.  How could he jump out of a tenth story window and not be dead?  But trust me, he's gone.  He's just ... gone."

"How...."

"How did we know he was here?  I don't know.  Seriously, I don't know.  The other one ... oh, yeah.  There's another one, but he says he's here to help us.  Anyway, the other one warned Jim this one would go after our women."  Sandburg giggled.  It sounded childish, or perhaps slightly hysterical.  "I guess since neither of us is in any sort of romantic relationship at the moment, and you're the only female member of the team right now, well, I guess he figured--"

"Team?"  She let herself open her eyes and gaze briefly into his.

He seemed confused by the question.  "What?  You didn't think you were part of the team?  Of course you are.  You have been for--"

She didn't hear the rest.  She didn't need to.  She'd heard enough.  She had finally been accepted as part of the team.  She stopped crying and let her eyes slip closed once more.

~4~

"What is going on in this city?"  Simon Banks demanded of Jim and Blair.  "Not only was one of our own attacked last night, there was another murder with our vampire M.O."

"Another murder?"  Jim asked, apparently as startled by the revelation as Blair was.

Simon nodded.  "Fortunately this time it wasn't a co-ed.  As a matter of fact, you could say our murderer did us a favor on this one."

"Sir?"

Simon dropped a file folder in front of the detective.  "Gordon Richard Owens, number nine on the FBI's most wanted list.  It seems our murderer managed to stop another murderer from killing anybody else."

Blair chuckled.  "Well, that's ... ironic."

Jim shook his head.  "Maybe not.  Captain, there was a--"

"Ah, Jim," Blair interrupted.  "Don't forget about that appointment you made for this afternoon.  I mean, you'd better get moving if you don't want to be late."

"I don't have an appointment."

"Yes.  Yes you do.  Trust me, it's important.  We'd better get on it.  As in now."

It wasn't easy, and Simon Banks was clearly as suspicious by Blair's claims as Jim was himself, but Sandburg finally convinced his partner to step out of the captain's office.

"You can't tell him about last night, Jim," Blair whispered harshly when they reached the hallway.  "He's not even convinced Cassie's attacker was a real vampire.  He'd never accept that there's a second one out there.  Don't even think about trying to explain vampire number two might be one of the good guys.  If we didn't see it first-hand, I doubt either one of us would have believed it either.  The fact is--"

"The fact is, Sandburg," Jim pulled Blair out of the path of two uniformed officers and lowered his voice. "The fact is," he repeated softly, "we have a problem on our hands that none of us is equipped to deal with."

"No one except maybe vampire number two?"

"I don't think there's any maybe about it."

"Ah, maybe there is, Jim.  A maybe, that is.  How do we know we can trust what he says?  Face it, the man is not a man.  Well, not a human man, anyway.  Vampires are real.  It still kind of blows me away to even say that.  But if they're real--which we now know they are--what exactly does that mean?  We don't really know what's true and what's fiction about them.  Have they sold their souls to become what they are?  Because, Jim, man, if he's sold his soul then I think that's a pretty strong argument for not trusting him."

"What other choice do we have?"

Blair gazed at his friend for a long moment, and then shrugged.  "Whittle a couple of sharp, wooden stakes and then look for places a vampire might go in this city to sleep away the day without interruption?"

* * *

Unfortunately, there were plenty of places in the city of Cascade where someone could sleep away the day without interruption.  Even a hotel room with thick curtains on the windows and a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door would suffice--assuming of course that no one disturbed the "Do Not Disturb" sign.  And searching for vampires on Halloween was a pretty useless exercise, given the number of Draculas the two men kept encountering. 

By sunset, as they returned to the truck after hitting yet another dead end, Blair had only one idea remaining.  "Jim, I've been thinking."

"Stop the presses."  Jim pulled his door shut and then slipped his key into the ignition.

"Funny.  Seriously, though, do you think it's true that once a vampire bites someone they form a connection between them?  You know how in all the movies Dracula always returns to his victims?"

"You think our murderer might return for Cassie?"

"Maybe."

"You might have something there, Chief.  Why don't you keep an eye on her tonight?"

"What about you?  What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to keep looking."

"No, Jim.  It is so not a good idea for us to split up tonight.  Come on, man.  What if that thing does come back for Cassie?  What do you expect me to do on my own?  I need you there, Jim."

"You're not giving yourself enough credit, Sandburg.  I've seen you beat the odds against all sorts of bad guys.  I have no doubt you can handle a vampire or two."

Blair was shocked by Jim's statement.  "What the hell are you saying?  Can you hear yourself?  You saw what happened last night.  I couldn't even lift a finger.  How the hell do you expect me to take out a vampire while I'm all but paralyzed?"

"It doesn't have to be that way," Jim said.  "Remember what he said?  He said it was your own fear that kept a hold on you.  He said you should be able to release yourself."

"He also said we both had to let go of our human constraints, Jim.  How are we supposed to do that as long as we're--I don't know--human?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying he wants to ... to convert you, Jim.  He wants to turn you into a vampire."

"Come on, Sandburg.  This isn't some B-movie at a Saturday matinee."

"You're right.  It's not.  This is real, Jim.  Vampires are real.  They are in Cascade.  They are sucking blood out of people you are sworn to protect.  And you're sitting there acting like you're dealing with just another human criminal."

"How else do you expect me to act?"

Blair stared at him, amazed by his partner's cool attitude.  It was too cool, cold even.  "Why aren't you the least bit freaked out?  Army Ranger or not, Jim, whatever you've experienced, whatever you have ever dealt with, nothing could possibly have prepared you for something like this."

Jim jerked the truck to the curb, shifted to park and turned his full attention to Blair.  "Look, Chief.  In my book, this murderer is just another perp.  It won't do anyone any good if I allow myself to get 'freaked out.'  Now get out."

Dumbfounded, Blair sat frozen in place, his mouth hanging open in speechless silence, his eyes refusing to leave his partner's masked gaze. 

"Go on," Jim said lightheartedly.  "Get up there and sit with Cassie."

Only then did Blair realize they had reached the hospital.

"I'll join you after I've checked out one more thing," Jim added.

"Don't do it, Jim."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't try to treat this thing like just another perp.  And don't trust the other one.  He's done something to you, man.  He's gotten to you.  I don't know what, and I sure don't know how, but he's gotten to you."

"Not a B-movie, Sandburg.  Now go on, before the moon rises."

"Vampires, Jim," Blair said softly, too confused and concerned by his partner's behavior to appreciate the sarcasm.  "Not werewolves."  He hesitated before stepping out of the truck, and then leaned back in before closing the door.  "Just ... whatever you do, Jim, don't do it.  Don't listen to him.  Don't trust him."

Blair watched the truck speed away until long after its taillights merged with a thousand others on the road.  His gut was churning, warning him to follow his partner.  But when another familiar sensation washed over him, one that made it hard to breathe and caused his heart to beat about a million times faster than it should, he knew there was only one direction he could run.  There were two vampires out there, and two people in danger, one of whom had already been severely weakened by loss of blood.  He had to run toward the most immediate danger.  He had to save Cassie. 

* * *

~5~

When Jim pulled into the empty parking lot, he was not surprised to find it as dark as it had been the night before.  Although he had made a strong effort to convince Blair otherwise, this was the entryway to one particular vampire's lair.  Jim knew that with a certainty no one but his guide would understand.  Yet even his guide could not know--not now, maybe not ever. 

Extending senses he would not normally rely upon, Jim waited for the ancient sentinel's return and struggled to ignore another sense, one of foreboding that threatened to overwhelm him.  He had all but abandoned Sandburg in order to come here.  And through that abandonment Jim may well have placed his guide, his friend in mortal danger at the hands of a monster out of myth.

"You have questions." 

This time the stranger did not surprise Jim.  The voice confirmed what his senses had discovered an instant before.  The shadowy figure that rose out of the night in front of him did not catch Jim off guard.

"I expect answers," Jim said to the figure.

"Of course."  Its voice was soft, perhaps even respectful.

"Why did you come here?"

"I am a sentinel, as are you.  We are both sworn to protect the human tribe."

"But they are not your tribe, not anymore.  You abandoned them to become what you are."

"I became what I am to protect the human tribe from the beasts that changed me."

"Those beasts are your tribe now."

"No.  They are my curse.  I owe them no allegiance."

"No?" Jim scoffed.  "Then why have you chosen to waste time talking with me when you should be out there, chasing down the beast you say is responsible for killing three young women and attacking another?  There was no need for you to involve me or my ... my guide."  Jim grew angry with himself for tripping on the word.  He was displaying his own weakness, his own vulnerability. 

A moment later he realized it didn't matter.  The man--the creature he was speaking with would already know of that vulnerability.

"It was important that I warn you."  It answered.  "You both must know of the dangers you face."

"Dangers that have been kept hidden from us--from human civilization until now?  Why now?  And why here, in Cascade?"

The dark figure remained silent.

"How long have you been chasing this one, this predator?"  Jim asked.

The creature hesitated, then, "Too long," it said in a small voice.

Perhaps it had grown weary of the chase.  If so, Jim felt no sympathy.  "You told us you changed to gain the strength you needed to destroy the beasts that attacked your tribe," he said.  "You never said how many there were, but you did claim there was more than one.  What I don't get is why this one is so hard for you to destroy now."  Not letting the figure respond, Jim lowered his voice before issuing his initial challenge.  "Tell me: is there really only one of them here right now, in Cascade?"

"Yes."

"Just one.  And he's still out there, while you're wasting time with me.  You're letting him get away with it; you're giving him the opportunity to prey on young women you say you're sworn to protect."  Jim's voice rose as his anger grew.  "I would not rest; I would not sleep until I knew my tribe was secure."

"There are many things you do not understand, things no human can hope to understand."

Jim tightened his jaw and lowered his voice once more to state the real challenge that had drawn him here and had forced him to abandon Sandburg.  "There is one thing I do know," he declared in a soft tone steeped in menace.  "No sentinel is complete without his guide."  Jim's icy glare did not waver.  "Where is yours?"

* * *

Blair did not take the direct approach to visiting Cassie.  There were too many strange things going on, too many variables that could make his visit problematic if the hospital staff were aware of it--especially if for any reason he was turned away. 

He entered the hospital by following in the wave of a group of Halloween revelers preparing for a party in pediatrics.  And then, adopting a tactic he had used when he'd first met Jim, Blair procured himself an abandoned lab coat.  Next he added an ID tag confiscated from a temporarily deserted nurses station.  If no one happened to look at the tag, he'd be fine.  But if they did look, it would be obvious he was not Sharon Jaworsky, RN. 

Fortunately, he made it up to the fifth floor without interruption.  But when he reached Cassie's room he found the door closed.  Should he enter a hospital room for female patients if the door was closed?  He paused with his hand over the latch long enough to glance at the patient names listed on placards beside the door frame.  Cassie was patient A.  The name space for B was empty. 

Hoping there had been no last minute admission and the placard simply had not been updated--and praying he would not walk in on some old lady being fitted with a catheter or something equally disturbing, Blair grabbed the latch and went inside.

* * *

~6~

The shadowy figure shifted in the darkness, moving around Jim as though making an attempt to circle him.  "There is much you could learn from me," it told him.  "Your senses are already strong, but imagine them a hundred times stronger.  Imagine how many lives you could save, how many tribes you could protect."

"Is that what you're doing now?  Protecting this tribe?"

"I am but one among many."

"One among many?  Where is the many?  You said there is only one 'beast' endangering this tribe."

"There is."

"Then why haven't you destroyed it?"

"Join me."

There.  It said it.  It finally admitted what Jim and Blair had both anticipated.  Still, more questions needed answers.

"Why?"

The creature did not respond.

"Where is your guide?"  Jim repeated his earlier question.

"There is no guide."

"Is that why you can't kill this beast?  Because you lost your guide?"

The creature moved further through the circle.  "There is no guide, and yet I persist."

"You persist in doing what?  Chasing beasts you can't destroy?  How does that protect any tribe?"

"Join me," it said again.

"Why?  Because you failed on your own?  You don't need another sentinel.  You need a guide."

In a single heartbeat, it moved closer, close enough for Jim to feel the heat of its breath on the back of his neck.  He turned to face it.

"What I need is of no significance," it said to him.  "What the tribe needs is a new protector."

The answer was not what Jim had expected.  "A replacement?"  Jim asked, confused by the consideration.  "For you?"

The creature held silent.  To Jim, the silence rang out as a resounding "yes."

* * *

The room was dark, but Cassie did not want Blair to turn on the light.

"No offense, Blair," she said softly.  "I mean, it's really sweet you coming here and all, but ... I'd just like to get some sleep now, okay?"

"I understand," Blair answered.  But he made no effort to move from the chair at her bedside.  "That's cool.  Just go right ahead.  I'm not even here."

"Ah, Blair?  You actually are here."

"Yeah."  He nodded.  "And I'm not leaving."

"What do you think, like you're protecting me now?" 

Thanks to his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, Blair could clearly see her press the button and raise her bed.  Her eyes looked shadowed.  Sure, it was dark.  Still, the shadows in her eyes seemed to go deeper than any of the shadows in the room.  There was something about her that looked wrong, off.

"I'm just...." Blair was not sure how to answer.  "I just--I need to be sure you're okay."

"I am okay, okay?  I'm ... I'm fine.  Really, really fine."  She absently plucked at the blanket with her fingers.  "Look, Blair, I'm...."  She cleared her throat.  "I'm grateful you and Jim were there last night, but, uh ... I can take care of myself."

"I know.  Under normal circumstances, you can definitely take care of yourself.  But, Cassie, you have to admit these are not normal circumstances."

"Sure they are.  I dropped my guard in the comfort of my own home.  That's all.  It won't happen again."

"How can you know that?"

"I just ... I do, okay.  Now please, just ... leave."

When Blair saw her stiffen he knew he did as well.  The instinct to run had returned, pressing his heartbeat to a dangerous rhythm.  Then Cassie's gaze moved toward the window.  Blair's did as well, as much from impulse as from watching her.

Oh, god, he thought.  It's here.

* * *

~7~

"My place is here," Jim told the vampire sentinel.  "Whatever responsibilities you assumed by becoming what you are, they are not my responsibilities.  They never will be."

The figure drew closer.  Jim fought against the urge to back away.  He refused to submit to this creature, this thing that threatened the security of his city even while claiming to protect it.

"I ... cannot ... continue," it said.

Its voice was a breathy whisper that reached Jim with a feather touch, drifting over his face, his lips, his eyes like an appeal.  It filled him with an unfamiliar scent, one that left him with lonely thoughts of the jungle and an overwhelming sense of homesickness.  That jungle in Peru had given him new life, yet he'd left it to return to Cascade.  Why?  He should never have left.  The jungle was his home, his sanctuary--the only place he could ever truly belong.  He needed to go back there.

Jim gazed into the vampire's dark eyes and saw something he had missed until now.  He saw hope.  He saw answers.  He saw eternity.

When the creature laid one hand on Jim's shoulder, he lost the desire to struggle.  He felt only ... desire.

* * *

"Go...."  Cassie demanded breathlessly.  "You ... you have to go, Blair.  Now."  Her attention remained focused on the window.

Yes.  Absolutely.  Blair really did need to leave.  But how could he?  He couldn't.  Not while she was here. 

"No, Cassie," he said, struggling to avoid gritting his teeth from the tension growing in his jaw.  "You don't want to be alone with that thing.  You cannot let it...."  He swallowed hard and tried to draw in just one, full breath.  It was useless.  He was panting way too much.  "You cannot let it do this to you again."

"Go, Blair."  Blair saw that her eyes were now focused on him.  And the shadows had turned to fire.  "You have to leave."

It was almost as though she was no longer Cassie.  She was something else, something dark and dangerous. 

Almost. But not completely.  Part of Cassie remained.  It was a small spark he saw in the fire burning in her eyes; one, tiny ember that left Blair feeling cold and afraid--afraid for her, afraid for what she could become if he allowed it to happen.

He sensed a presence behind him ... and froze. 

No!  Blair's mind cried out where his voice could not.  How the creature had arrived so silently, so stealthily, he would never know.  And then, without even touching him, somehow the thing had already subdued him.  He was paralyzed, utterly unable to move--just like the night before, when the other creature had chosen to speak with Jim. 

This time, Blair knew speaking was not on the agenda.

* * *

Jim closed his eyes and turned his head.  It was impulse.  It was instinct. 

It was submission. 

Something deep within him told him he must never submit.  But to what? Or whom?  His thoughts were jumbled.  His urges were not his to control.  Why not?

A hot, moist breath taunted him.

"Take my place."

Lips brushed his ear as the words left an echo that tormented Jim with promises he could hardly refuse.  He dropped his head backwards, exposing his throat, and then shivered in anticipation as those lips reached his neck.

"Say you will."

Jim felt more than heard the command, for the lips drew a pattern of words across his skin.

I will.  But Jim's own words remained locked within his thoughts, held there by some distant calling, a soundless cry that was too persistent to be ignored.

* * *

Jim!  Blair cried out silently, hopelessly in his mind. 

The creature was ignoring him.  It was focusing its attention on Cassie, who lay writhing on her bed, her hands curling around blankets as though she had the drive but not the energy to pull them away.  Her vampire stalker gently sat beside her, and then reached out like a lover to stroke her hair with a black-gloved hand. 

She was panting, as was Blair.  But for her there was no fear, only passion. 

Blair may as well have been a peeping Tom watching a romantic interlude.  If only that were true, if only he had nothing but embarrassment to be worried about.

He should jump to his feet and propel himself forward to tackle the creature, and then do whatever he could to keep it away from Cassie.  But he couldn't.  He was useless.

Jim!

He should not be so easily controlled, the other vampire had told Blair's friend, his sentinel.  If you truly believe yourselves partnered to provide that protection, then you both must let go of your human constraints.

Was that possible?  Blair wondered.  Was it possible to let go without fully letting go, without becoming a vampire?

The creature leaned forward and kissed Cassie's forehead.  Her back arched, her panting grew into desperate gasps.

Your guide, the other had said, your shaman, is too weak to recognize that he need not succumb to the pull of my mere presence.

How?  Blair struggled through his thoughts, his only means of defense against the strange forces holding him.  How?  Jim!  Jim, man, you've got to help us.  You've got to get over here!  Jim!

You are his shaman, now, Incacha had once said. 

The vampire kissed Cassie's lips, her chin, her neck.

You are his shaman.

Oh, god.  Blair finally realized what he must do.  But did he have enough time?

* * *

~8~

Jim!

Blair's voice, unheard but felt, punched through the fog of Jim's lost thoughts.  It cooled the arousal strange senses had awakened, and drew him into an otherworldly jungle, one where panthers lay with wolves.

Jim!  It's here.  It's attacking Cassie.

The panther growled.  It was a low rumble from deep in its throat, yet Jim could feel it within his own.

I can't fight it, Jim, the wolf pleaded.

Yes, you can, Chief.  You already have.

Jim gasped, expunging his held breath, expelling the forces that had sought to control him--denying the vampire sentinel what it thought had been its due.  Cascade's sentinel thrust up his hands and pushed his own attacker away.

"No!"  Jim shouted.  "I will not."

Without having any idea how to really kill a vampire, that is if one could even be killed, Jim stiffened and prepared to do battle with a creature from hell.  It crouched where Jim's efforts had sent it, and glared back at him, eyes gone yellow and feral.  It growled, like the panther had an instant before.  But it made no move against him.

A minute passed.  Two.  Still the creature did not move--until finally, its eyes darkening once more, it drew its shoulders back, raised its head and rose to a standing position. 

"No," it said softly a long moment later.  "You will not."

Jim held where he was and kept his thoughts on the jungle, on the wolf.

"I must not force," the vampire said then, "what you truly do not desire.  We are not as alike as I had believed."

"Destroy your companion," Jim demanded.  "Or take it with you, and leave here."

Was that a smile?  A small, sad smile?

"My companion."  There was the sound of irony in its reply.  "My guide."

Startled, Jim dropped his guard, if only for an instant.  He lost the jungle.  He lost the wolf.  But the creature before him did not use the opportunity to strike.

"Yes," it said in answer to the questions in Jim's gaze.  "My guide.  He tried to guide me away from my choice, and then refused to join me when I asked him to."

"You chose to convince him like you almost convinced me."

"I am ... sorry.  I was wrong to attempt it again."

"Again?"

The vampire sentinel shook its head.  It was just a slow movement of shadows across Jim's vision. 

"I was not fully aware of my new strengths," it answered.  "But in using my power on him, it ... changed him.  He turned.  He became ... everything I had been determined to fight."

"But you could not fight him."

"He was my guide, my brother.  I thought ... I had hoped it might be so for all eternity."

"He is your brother no longer.  The person he was is gone, he's dead.  You killed him."

The vampire sentinel lowered its gaze.  Its shoulders sagged as though from a heavy burden.  "Yes," it answered finally.

"You created what he's become," Jim said.  "If you're serious about being a sentinel, you cannot let this continue.  You have to stop him to protect the tribe."

"Yes."  That single word sounded like an eternity of heartache.

An instant later, the creature was gone.  Jim was alone in the darkness.

* * *

~9~

Blair felt the connection snap. 

It had seemed an insurmountable task to even consider reaching a meditative state while a vampire sat not three feet from him, determined to drain the last of Cassie's blood.  Yet somehow Blair had managed to reach the jungle, the one his shamanistic gifts had shown him, the one Jim's own sentinel gifts had led him to when Blair had faced death at the hands of the rogue sentinel, Alex Barnes. 

A distant part of him reflected on the fact that Cassie hadn't been in Cascade back then.  She had accepted a position out east, determined to prove her worth as a detective despite the physical constraints caused by her severe asthma.  If she had stayed there, if she had never returned to Cascade, she wouldn't be facing death right now, at the hands of a vampire.  But she had returned, claiming that Cascade, and, particularly, the Major Crimes division of the Cascade Police Department, had left its mark on her.  She had felt compelled to come back.

Now a vampire had left a far more compelling mark.  Cassie was marked for death--or worse--if Blair didn't act quickly.  But actions did not necessarily need to be physical, at least not for a shaman.  Was that what the vampire sentinel had meant by letting go of his human constraints?  Blair prayed that might be true.  By reaching out to the jungle of the next world, Blair could try to open his link to Jim in this one, and perhaps, hopefully, even break this vampire's unguarded control over Blair, himself.

Jim!  He had called out with his heart into the ethereal mists.  I can't fight it, Jim.

And then somewhere in those mists he sensed rather than heard Jim's reply.  Yes, you can, Chief.  You already have.

A moment later his awareness of Jim was gone.  Blair dared not imagine what that might mean.  Instead, he clung to the hope that he had somehow helped his friend by opening that link, however briefly it had held.  And then he clung to a different hope. 

Yes, you can, Chief,  Jim had told him.

Yes, I can, he told himself.

Concentrating on his breathing, Blair focused on maintaining his hold on the jungle while allowing himself to experience his physical presence in Cassie's hospital room.  In effect, Blair stepped completely into neither world.  He was in between, in ways only another shaman--or Blair's own sentinel--might ever understand.

The vampire was draped across Cassie in fluid repose, appearing almost like a heavy, black coat someone had absently tossed upon her.  Yet no coat could move so sleekly, so lithely as this black figure.  The creature's back was to Blair, so he could see nothing of its or Cassie's blood.  Still, Blair could clearly see that Cassie was alive, even conscious, at least to a point at which her body responded to the vampire's evocative moves. 

For an instant, Blair seemed to be both watching and living out some dark, erotic fantasy.

Don't go there, Blair.  Breathe.  That's right.  In.  Out....  No, no, no.  Blair almost lost his control, but he recognized the risk and forced himself to hold firm to his lifeline.  The jungle.  Focus on the jungle.  Oh, god, Jim.  This is just wrong on so many levels.  God.  Yes.  That's it.  The devil is right here, and I'm the only one who can save Cassie.

When Blair allowed himself to step between worlds once more, he forced himself to give his attention only to the vampire.  Don't even look at Cassie, he thought desperately.  Just the vampire, not Cassie.

And then Blair, the shaman, tested the vampire's hold on Blair, the helpless witness.  It had been broken.  Blair could move his arms.  He lifted his feet, first his right, then his left, and soundlessly set them back on the floor.  He had full control.  But what should he do with that control?  If he followed his first, instinctive drive, he would hit the vampire with a full body slam.  Yet a shaman must have enough wisdom to look beyond human instincts, and in doing so Blair realized such a move might prove disastrous for Cassie.  If the vampire's teeth were embedded in her throat, any forceful, physical attack on the creature could result in those sharp, deadly teeth tearing away skin--and more.  They could inadvertently rip Cassie's carotid artery.  She would be dead before Blair would even have time to realize what he'd done.

No.  Despite all his efforts to regain physical control, Blair's counterattack could not be physical.

"Hey!"  He shouted.  "Hey, you!  Get away from her!"

The creature stiffened and then slowly lifted itself away from Cassie.  It turned.  Although each and every move seemed calculated and deliberate, its gaze gave Blair the sense that it was experiencing confusion, even misdirection. 

"Yeah, you!  I'm talking to you!  Get away from her!"

The creature's gaze shifted then.  It drew fire as though from the very air.

Don't look directly at its eyes, Blair told himself.  He could not give the vampire any opportunity to regain its control over him.  But when the creature snarled, Blair realized he could snarl, too.  He called to his spirit guide.

The vampire stopped.  Confusion returned. 

Could it sense the wolf?

Taking a deep breath, Blair changed his tactics.  He let his own gaze reach the vampire's, holding to the hope that its confusion would keep it off guard.  Maybe, just maybe he could draw the vampire into the jungle rather than enabling the vampire to draw Blair to his death.

* * *

The jungle was deep, thick.  It surrounded Blair, protecting him like a cocoon while his physical self sat immobile, uninvolved in the physical world.  He no longer needed to keep the link open because the vampire had, in fact, joined him on this journey.

It turned in slow, curious circles, seeming mesmerized by the dense vegetation.

Blair waited, watching.  Now that this task had been accomplished, he did not know what else to do.  Should he say something?  Should he do something?  He, too, was curious and confused.  Yet he trusted in the jungle.

His trust was well-placed.

The vampire shifted its gaze to Blair, and Blair recognized at that moment that the beast had vanished.  The creature moving toward him seemed more man than demon.  When it reached Blair, it turned its head one way, and then another, like a child studying the man, the guide, the shaman standing there.  Blair studied it in turn, and realized something else.

"You've been here before," he said to the creature, the man before him.

And its face began to change.  The pale remnants of eternal death darkened.  Sharp angles grew smooth.  Moments later, Blair confronted neither demon nor beast.  Instead, an ancient Mayan stood before him, complete with tribal costume and markings.

"Welcome home." 

Recognizing the voice behind him, Blair turned.  "Incacha," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"You have done well," Incacha told him.  "A lost one is returned.  His circle is complete."

Blair returned his attention to the Mayan, who had dropped to his knees in the thick, lush plants carpeting the jungle floor.  Tears had begun to fall from the Mayan's eyes.  Blair watched, amazed and unsettled as the Mayan briefly dropped his head, apparently in shame, and then raised his arms to the velvet sky and shouted a cry of utter despair to the universe.

* * *

~10~

Two sentinels heard the lost guide's cry.  One responded by flooring his truck, siren blaring as he rushed through endless city streets in a desperate attempt to protect his own guide.  The other had already arrived.

The vampire sentinel knelt beside the still form of his old friend, his brother, his soul-mate, that itself knelt before a guide of another era, another life.  The sentinel placed one hand on the shoulder of the creature he had created, and the other on that of the new sentinel's guide. 

"Forgive me," he said aloud to his own former guide.  And then he closed his eyes to seek out the sanctuary he had abandoned long ago.

* * *

Darkness grew within the heart of the jungle.  A hot breeze tousled Blair's hair, and left him smelling rot.

The Mayan grew silent.  Blair watched him turn his gaze toward that darkness and rise to his feet.  The Mayan's countenance growing wary, he stumbled back a few steps before anger took hold.  He started moving forward.

"The darkness draws your light," Incacha said.  "Or your light draws the darkness.  The choice is yours."

The Mayan looked to Incacha, his eyes seeming haunted by unspoken questions.  He took one more step forward.

"No!"  Blair shouted.  "Whatever it is, you have to let it be.  You finally made it back here.  Don't let it pull you away again.  Don't let it destroy you."

The Mayan turned his way. 

"This is where you belong."

The Mayan gazed toward the darkness, its countenance changing yet again.  Confusion, wariness, anger, all gave way to something that left Blair with a sense of longing.

"The darkness," Blair said.  "Is that the sentinel?"

One glance toward Blair was enough, and then the Mayan looked again to the darkness.

"Was he your sentinel?"  Blair asked.  "Were you his guide?"

The Mayan took another step forward.

That step caused something to click in Blair's mind.  Suddenly he saw everything clearly.  "He changed you, didn't he?  You tried to stop him, but he refused to listen."

The Mayan gazed sorrowfully back at Blair.

"He thought he knew what he needed to do," Blair continued, "and he refused your guidance."

The Mayan gazed pensively into the darkness.

"That's why he couldn't destroy you.  He felt responsible.  He followed you, and tried to warn us, but he couldn't destroy you.  Because you were his guide."

"He...," the Mayan began in a voice ragged and worn, "refused my guidance."

"Do you think you can guide him again?  Guide him back here?"

"He ... changed me.  He ... made me into ...."  The Mayan's face reflected a myriad of emotions, rage and despair foremost among all.  "I could not control ... the hunger.  I ...."  Once again he raised his eyes skyward, and cried out.  Then, winded, he dropped back to his knees.  "I have betrayed all."

"You were not at fault."

The Mayan looked hopefully toward Blair.  "I saw through another's eyes.  I lived through another's life.  I ... drank ... to quench the other's thirst."

"But here," Blair offered, "the other is gone.  You are in control."

The hot breeze intensified. 

"He calls to me," the Mayan said, gazing outward.

"You must call to him."

He looked to Blair again.  A moment later, he nodded once, and then closed his eyes.

* * *

The hospital was surreal.  Jim hurried through the sterile halls half expecting to find a frenzied scene.  Instead, he found normalcy.  Two vampires were on the loose, yet no one seemed to care.  Of course, who would really know about them?  Only Cassie ... and Blair.

Long before Jim arrived at Cassie's room, he reached toward it with his senses, seeking sounds of struggle, expecting the strong scent of blood.  Once again, his expectations proved wrong, but only partially so.  He heard only the sound of two heartbeats, each one slow, but thankfully steady.  And while the scent of blood was present, it was not overwhelming--nor was it overwhelmingly familiar.  It was not Blair's blood.  That was enough to ease Jim's breathing and his own heartbeat as he cautiously stepped inside.

The room was dark.  Jim's eyes adjusted instantly, although it took a moment longer for his brain to process what he saw.  Cassie lay wounded once more, but she was breathing and seemed to be sleeping peacefully, while Blair sat calmly in a bedside chair.  Kneeling before Jim's guide was a man--a vampire--with blood on his lips.  Both were quiet, unmoving, their eyes open, each gazing deep into the other's.  And each of them was apparently oblivious to Jim's arrival.

Oddly, tears streamed down the cheeks of the vampire. 

It was like a scene of epiphany, a painting in a museum--except for the sentinel vampire, who knelt at Blair's side and had one hand placed on the shoulder of each of the two others caught in that bizarre scene.  The ancient sentinel was neither still nor calm.  He twitched and twisted, seeming to struggle as the others did not. 

As Jim approached, its eyes snapped open.  It growled like an animal, displaying its elongated canines.

"He does not answer," the vampire sneered as it rose to face Jim.

"Why does he need to?"  Jim asked.

"This must end."

"It looks like that's what's happening here.  I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly seeing a beast there."

The vampire gazed at its old guide, its visage changing to one of ... what?  Love?  It reached out its hand and then gently stroked the other's hair.  A moment later, long fingers wiped at its old friend's tears.  "What...?" the vampire sentinel asked softly. "What is this?"

"Humanity," Jim answered.

~11~

The vampire sentinel stared at the salty moisture on the tip of its finger.  "How?"  It asked Jim.  "It is not possible."

"A week ago I would have said vampires were not possible." 

Jim stepped closer and gently dropped a protective hand upon Blair's shoulder.  "My guide has taught me that the line between possible and impossible is a lot thinner and a lot grayer than I ever could have imagined."

"Your guide ... is wise."

"As was yours when he tried to turn you away from this path."

"It was ... for the tribe."  The vampire closed its eyes and then cocked its head, as though listening--or searching for a memory long buried.  "He said the tribe was only as strong as its heart.  Our protection enabled that heart to beat; its pulse gave us life.  But the beast with no heart has no pulse, and the tribe with no pulse has no life."

"You should have listened to him."

"My own heart was crying out for vengeance.  My blood was hot.  The tribe was facing annihilation, and my guide was spewing shamanistic double-talk."

Jim could imagine himself thinking the same kind of thoughts.  Would he have made the same decision?  The correlation between this sentinel's stubborn warrior mentality and Jim's own tendencies was far stronger than Jim would ever have dared to imagine.  The implications were chilling.  Fortunately for him, Blair could usually find the right buttons to push when he needed Jim to listen.  Usually.  But what if the moment were to come when nothing Blair said was enough to steer Jim away from doing something as horrifically stupid--and devastating--as this sentinel had done?

"Your guide spoke truth."  Jim absently tightened his grip on Blair's shoulder.  "But you let rage guide you instead."

The vampire shrugged.  "I was the warrior, not him.  I thought he was fearful of the path we must take, but I knew he had the strength, if not the will to follow.  And so I bled him, and then I fed him my blood, and with it my ... rage.  I should have realized that his resistance would lead him down a far different path, a deadlier one than my own.  He became that which my rage sought to destroy."

"How could that have happened?" Jim asked.

"His strength was greater than my own.  He had the strength to refuse the ... gift ... I was so insistent to give him.  When his ... body awakened, he was ... gone.  Something evil took the place of the man he had been."

"He must not have been entirely gone."

The vampire gave Jim a questioning gaze.

"You could never bring yourself to destroy him.  That was probably because you recognized part of the man you remembered was still there."

The vampire's head shook slowly. 

"Do those tears look evil to you?"  Jim asked.

As though horrified, the vampire's eyes widened.  "If...."  Its hand shook, now hovering above rather than touching its old guide's head.  "If this is true, if the man he was has been locked beneath the beast he became for all these ... all these centuries...."  The vampire looked to Jim.  "How could I have done this?  How could I ever hope to provide him with recompense for what I took?  For what I left him in return?"

"You could start by listening," Jim said.  "You have to stop thinking of yourself as his guide.  You have to remember it's the other way around.  He's your guide."

The vampire sentinel studied Jim's gaze, and then Jim's posture.  Flexing its fingers, it then tried to mirror Jim's stance by placing its hand upon the lost guide's shoulder.

Jim nodded.  "Now listen."  Once again, he gave his own guide a gentle squeeze.  And then he found himself bridging two worlds, one in which the pulse of life was measured in drops of blood, and another where eternity pulsed with something else entirely.

* * *

~12~

The hot breeze gained strength, rising like a cyclone from the depths of the jungle.  Dirt and grit gave this new wind a stinging force.  When something stung Blair's eye, he threw one arm up as a shield.  The smell of death and decay nearly gagging him, he wrapped his other hand around his nose, and then he planted his feet in the soft, moist ground, intent on riding out the storm not unlike a sailor at sea.  There was too much at stake--besides, no shelter on earth could provide safe harbor from this.

"You have to guide him," Blair shouted to the Mayan.

The Mayan seemed oblivious to the winds.  He stood tall amidst the chaos and made no attempt to protect his eyes.  He did not even seem to blink as he gazed back at Blair.  Blair saw too that those eyes had a different glow.  They had gone yellow, as had those of the vampire in Cassie's room.  But here that yellow lacked the feral intensity of before.

There was a screech from above.  Blair looked up on instinct and saw a shadow cross the debris carried by the fetid wind.  A moment later, the shadow took the form of an eagle.  It came to rest on the up-raised arm of the Mayan.  They shared a glance--and surely more--before it took flight again.  And then the Mayan raised his head into the wind.  He wore the hint of a smile, as though relishing the wind's scouring touch. 

He said something Blair could not quite make out.  The wind seemed to weaken. 

"Here is the light," the Mayan shouted then.  "Leave the darkness, and remember."

A strong gust pushed Blair backwards and filled his mouth with the foul taste of mold and dirt.  He closed his eyes as the worst of it passed.  When he gazed back at the Mayan, Blair saw that the man stood as firmly as before. 

"Remember," the Mayan shouted, "the time before the darkness.  Remember."

A hand landed upon Blair's shoulder.  Jim.  The feel of his partner, his own sentinel beside him gave Blair a sense of the Mayan's strength.  That sense alone seemed to give the wind less power.  Blair found himself able to stand against it.  He dropped both arms to his sides, no longer needing to shield himself.  The sentinel and guide stood together.  That was enough.

"Stop fighting," Jim shouted.  "Stop leading.  Start following.  Listen to your guide."

From out of the winds, as though formed by the debris, the figure of a man took shape at the very center of a cyclone, the very center of the storm.  He was dark, shadowed. 

"Remember," the Mayan said.

The scene shifted.  The jungle changed.  The storm passed--or Jim and Blair were made to pass beyond it.

"This is not for you," Incacha said.  He nodded toward them and then turned to walk into the thick growth, into the jungle's heart.

* * *

Blair blinked.  His eyes burned.  The blinking did nothing to chase the feeling away, it just seemed to add to the problem, scraping grit across his eyes.  He decided to hold them closed for a while, at least long enough to work up some soothing tears.

Jim squeezed his shoulder.  "You okay there, Chief?"

"Yeah.  I just ...  wow.  I haven't had a staring contest in a long time."

"Well you did good with this one, partner.  You did real good."

Blair dared a glance and saw the vampire still entranced before him.  Then he saw another, and he jumped involuntarily.

"It's okay," Jim said.  "He's there, too."

"The storm?"

There was no need for Jim to answer.

"What do we do now?"  Blair asked.

"We wait."

Blair looked toward the vampire sentinel.  Even in the darkness, he could see something glistening on the creature's shadowed face.  It was the most surreal image Blair had witnessed, despite everything he had encountered in the past two days.  Two vampires were in the room with him, and both had been brought to tears.

* * *

~13~

The vigil was as long as it was unremarkable.  The two creatures of the night simply sank back into the shadows, first blending with the darkness and then fading with the first gray hint of dawn. 

Ashes to ashes, Blair wondered silently as a light breeze pulled what remained toward an inexplicably open window.  Dust to dust.

But Jim saw it differently.  "Do not go gently into that good night," the sentinel said aloud.

The reference startled Blair in a number of ways.  "Dylan Thomas," he said.  "I'm impressed."

"Don't be.  It's a common quote."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure they went very gently anyway.  They had a lot of ... issues to work through.  I'm just glad Incacha was there to help them."

"Thanks to you." Jim's gaze was sincere.

Both surprised by and appreciative of the acknowledgement, Blair found he had to glance away and then clear his throat before continuing. "And you," he added with equal sincerity.  "I'm not too sure what would have happened if you hadn't picked up on what I was doing, if we hadn't worked together the way we did."

"I just did what sentinels are supposed to do. I let my guide actually guide me."  Despite the sentiment that might underlie his message, Jim's gaze lingered on a tiny dust devil rather than on his partner.  "If he'd remembered that, back when it really mattered, none of this would have had to happen."

"That's not exactly entirely true, Jim."

The sentinel's gaze, grown curious, shifted toward Blair.

"Vampires, Jim.  They're real.  The fact that we happened to have a connection with these two doesn't mean they're the only ones out there.  And if we ever happen to meet any others, somehow I doubt we'll be able to convince them to ... to--"

"Go gently into that good night?"

Blair nodded.  "There are so many things we should have asked them.  They could have helped us."

Jim stiffened.  It was subtle, nearly imperceptible, but Blair could not help but notice.

"Jim?"

"No." That was all the sentinel had to say.

"No?  What do you mean no?  We still don't even know whether the legends are true.  How do you kill a vampire, one that doesn't have a connection to the spirit world?"

"We might never have to find out."

Blair was stunned.  How could Jim be so casual about it all?  "Hopefully," he added, a touch of sarcasm present in his tone.  "If we're lucky.  But Jim, come on; what if we aren't?"

"We'll figure it out if we have to.  We'll get by.  We always do."

"So far, maybe, yeah.  We've been lucky."

"It's more than luck, Chief."

It was now Blair's turn to study his partner with a curious gaze. 

"There is one thing that sentinel taught me, and right now I think it's the only thing that really matters."  Jim paused, as though to ensure Blair was listening intently. 

He was.

"He may have been a sentinel for centuries," Jim went on, "but he was no more an expert than I am.  In fact, I think I have an even better sense of what it means to be a sentinel than he did."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jim nodded.  "Thanks to you."

"I appreciate that, Jim, I really do; but his guide was no amateur.  I mean, I could have learned so much from him, if only we--"

"It doesn't matter," Jim cut him off.  "The guide may not have been an idiot, but the sentinel was.  He thought it was his show; he thought he was in charge, that his decisions were the only ones that mattered."

"Well, in a way, that's--"

"He was wrong."  Jim's words cut through the still, morning air like a gunshot.  "It's a partnership, or it's nothing at all."

"Yeah?" Blair felt himself starting to smile.  It seemed inappropriate under the circumstances, but he couldn't stop it.

Jim took a deep breath.  "Look, Chief, I may not always like to hear what you have to say.  And sometimes I might argue the hell out of some of the crazy ideas you come up with.  But ...."  He shook his head.  "Don't you ever let me ignore you.  Don't you ever let me act completely on my own, with no regard for your opinion."

"Sure, Jim; okay.  But, um..."  He shrugged.  "You've got to admit, you can be pretty stubborn.  How can I possibly stop you if you--"

"Whatever it takes, Chief.  Whatever it takes."  Now it was Jim's turn to smile.  "You're pretty good at thinking on your feet.  I'm sure you'll come up with something.  Like right now, for instance.  What in the hell are we going to tell Simon?"

"No problem.  Just tell him it all started with an ancient sentinel--"

"He'll stop us right there and say he doesn't want to hear it."

"My point exactly."

As Sandburg laughed, Jim did too, for a moment.  But as the sun rose higher and a stray sunbeam cast a curious glow around the other man's features, Jim was reminded of the lost Mayan.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light, he thought somberly.  And then, whatever it takes, Chief.  Whatever it takes.

* * *
<the end>