Ancient Vendetta Part 3

David eyed the three vehicles warily as he walked past them to knock on Nick's door. This was the only time he'd interacted with the CSIs outside the lab and it was making him extremely uncomfortable and therefore irritable. He knocked again and then in some strange throwback to high school humiliation, wondered if this was some sort of trick and people were inside snickering.

These were adults, David reminded himself, and this was a very serious situation. He tried the door and when the knob turned, he opened it just enough to peek inside. He was immediately assaulted by a cacophony that really should have been audible from outside--two men yelling, something snarling and laughing, and everyone banging on walls with all their might. As he stepped inside--reflecting briefly that this was how people got killed in horror movies--he could make out that the voices were yelling for Nick, and seconds later David spotted the Texan pinned with his back to the wall while his hands scrabbled uselessly at his neck.

After just a single step in Nick's direction, a clinking sound made him turn toward the kitchen. He ducked just in time to avoid the three heavy mugs that hurtled straight for his head. They ended up shattering harmlessly against the door. The instant the sound of breaking ceramic stopped, so did everything else. Nick fell to his hands and knees and both doors next to him flew open.

Before David had moved another few steps toward Nick, Warrick was there, helping Nick to his feet, examining his injuries and--David couldn't help noticing--being a little more handsey about it than necessary. Not that Nick seemed to mind, he was holding onto Warrick's shoulders for balance--maybe.

Greg was standing in the other doorway, still looking like he'd gotten a little more than he'd bargained for when indulging in this bout of curiosity. David gave him a break and didn't comment about what happened to cats in Greg's situation.

"Are you sure?" Obviously, as far as Warrick was concerned, there was no one else in the house except Nick. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine, thanks," David said in his driest tone, which got him a shaky laugh from Nick and a dirty look from Warrick.

"I think..." Greg stopped uncertainly when everyone turned to look at him. "I did that. I mean, the door slammed when I started...smudging."

"Didn't your medicine woman warn you about this?" Warrick glared at Greg.

"Rick..." Nick said quietly.

"Actually, she did," David couldn't help pointing out. "Weren't you told that it was better for Nick to have people around? Why did you leave him alone?"

"He wasn't alone," Warrick turned on him.

David envied those laser-green eyes that could probably kill at twenty paces, but he wasn't going to allow them to have any effect on him. "I'm sorry," he said in his snottiest tone. "It looked to me like you and Greg were each stuck in separate rooms and Nick was out here by himself."

Warrick stiffened visibly. "Hey, you only got here two minutes ago--"

"And that somehow changes the definition of 'alone'?"

"Hey, hey, hey. No fighting in my house." Nick's voice wasn't particularly strong, but there was no mistaking an order was being given. "Not each other, anyway," he amended, sounding reluctant to have to acknowledge the Baichee-Nee. He also sounded like he was running on little more than adrenalin, and David was relieved when Warrick ushered him back to the sofa. Nick stopped at the sight of broken glass in front of his door. "What happened?" he asked as he carefully settled himself on the sofa.

"The thing decided to try cracking my head open by throwing a few coffee mugs at me," David replied. When stunned silence greeted this remark, he added, "I ducked."

"Good call," Warrick said dryly.

"Seemed like the thing to do."

"Do I...keep smudging?" Greg was still in the bedroom doorway.

David said yes at the same Warrick said no, then sighed internally because he knew an argument was coming.

"Are you crazy?" Warrick glared at him. "Look what happened last time."

"That means it's working," David returned logically, although he had a feeling that tactic wouldn't go over well with Warrick at this point.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It must be working, Warrick," Nick said quietly. David doubted he had any choice besides speaking quietly, as drained as he looked at the moment. "Even though it had me against the wall, I could still move. That never happened before." When Warrick still looked dubious, he continued, "I mean, it was just the one hand holding me. It couldn't even pull any clothes off to--" he stopped, suddenly realizing he and Warrick weren't the only two present. "--do anything else." Nick lowered his gaze to the corner of the blanket he was holding.

Without another word, Greg retreated into the bedroom. David wanted to do the same, but was concerned Nick would think he and Greg were discussing what had just been said--that's what he would think, anyway. Instead, he went for the first new subject he could think of. "Do you have a broom or something I can clean up this mess with?"

Nick spoke to the mess on the floor rather than David, "There's one in the kitchen closet."

David found it and began sweeping, keeping his back to the other two men, which was the only privacy he could give them at the moment. In a fit of unprecedented sensitivity, he also deliberately tuned out the murmur of their voices. David was almost finished cleaning when the sound of a vehicle in the driveway made him look up. Seeing the dark grey Denali pull up, he quickly swept everything into a single pile and left the broom against the wall beside it.

This would be the perfect time, he decided, to give Greg a hand with the smudging.

Nick watched Hodges hurry into his bedroom through half-closed eyes. "Where's he goin'?"

Warrick shrugged in response, "Check on Greg maybe?" He was sitting in a chair he'd placed right next to one end of the sofa. Except for those few minutes before Hodges arrived, he hadn't been more than an arm's length away from Nick.

Nick was fairly certain that was the only reason he hadn't checked out completely yet.

"Oh," Warrick's lips twisted into a wry smile as he peered through the blinds behind the sofa. "That's why he ran." The doorbell rang. "It's Grissom."

Part of Nick was amused that although a raging entity hadn't rattled Hodges, the arrival of Gil Grissom made him run like a rabbit. That was only a small part, though. Mostly Nick wanted to pull the blanket over his head and pretend none of this was happening.

He didn't, of course. Instead, when Warrick got up to let their boss in, Nick tried to think of some way to convince Grissom of something he could barely accept himself. He knew that what was happening to him was real, though, as much as his mind tried to shy away from the fact. And if he needed any further reminding, some of his pain medication was wearing off and his body was beginning to twinge and ache all over.

He watched as Warrick got up to let Grissom in, and instead of increasing, all his worry seemed to disappear--along with every other emotion he'd been feeling.

Shock. Was he going into shock? Why would he do that now? Maybe he was still in shock from before. Had they mentioned it at the hospital? He couldn't remember. He really wanted to ask, but knew the question would only freak everyone out.

"Nicky?"

Nick blinked in surprise. At some point Grissom had come in and sat down in the wing chair. He double-checked to make sure Warrick was in his usual spot before turning back to Grissom. "Kelly Gordon?"

Grissom shot a concerned look at Warrick before answering. "She had recently been moved to a single cell. She was found at the morning check."

Now all he needed to know was--"TOD?"

"Between four and five this morning."

His stomach flipped and he looked at Warrick, "I was sound asleep."

Warrick nodded.

"Nick, that has nothing to do with her death," Grissom said firmly. "What are you--? What did Greg tell you? Surely you don't believe--"

"It's true, Gris," Warrick interrupted quietly.

"It's a theory," Grissom insisted. "And a rather far-fetched one at that. Really, what evidence is there to support this?"

Nick couldn't tell him. He just couldn't. Thank God Warrick could.

"I saw it," Warrick said, stopping Grissom cold. "I wouldn't have believed it otherwise, Grissom--you know that. I've witnessed it twice now. It's real."

Grissom still looked dubious and although he wanted to, Nick couldn't bring himself to help Warrick convince him.

"It happened just before you got here," Warrick continued. "Now unless you think that the four of us--Nick, Greg, Hodges and me--are mass hallucinating, then you're just gonna have to accept what we're telling you."

"Warrick--"

"You'll also have to think that I've been hallucinating all morning," Warrick added. "Because I saw something attack. It might have been nebulous and without any real form, but I saw something, Gil. I saw something."

For a split-second, Nick was terrified that Warrick was going to tell Grissom about the nature of attack. It was bad enough that Grissom already suspected it, worse that Greg and Hodges more or less knew, but that didn't mean they had to discuss it like any other case. The thought that something like that might happen, that word could possibly spread through the lab, made Nick want to disappear. Then it occurred to him that some of it could have already spread through the lab. "Who else knows about this?"

Both Grissom and Warrick stopped talking and stared at him. Nick realized belatedly that they had been talking about something else entirely and now he looked like an idiot--or worse. Uncomfortable with the blue and green eyes on him, he shifted the blanket on his shoulders.

"Your shirt is torn," Grissom said in that neutral tone he reserved for the most bizarre of situations.

Nick looked down. So it was. On the left side from the collar to the shoulder seam. "That must be just this last time."

"Nick," Warrick spoke quietly. "Maybe show Grissom some of the scratches..."

It definitely wasn't something Nick wanted to do, but he knew it was necessary, so he sat up straighter and let Grissom examine some of the marks through the tear in his shirt.

Grissom's touch was careful and gentle as he examined the cuts and bruises and Warrick was right beside him, and Nick was fine with the situation. He didn't say anything when Grissom commented that the strange bite marks were abnormally large and even took his shirt off and leaned forward so Grissom could see the marks on his back. Nick knew the hand he felt was Grissom's and the touch was purely professional, so of course it wasn't any sort of problem for him.

When Greg and Hodges mentioned that the bite marks--well, that was actually a bit odd, because he'd thought they were cleansing the other room and hadn't noticed their approach. Even so, when they discussed how the bites corresponded with the doubles rows of teeth supposedly possessed by the giant skulls, that didn't bother Nick in the least. They were scientists, he was a scientist, and he was fine with all of it.

It did occur to him that perhaps he should be concerned when all the voices began to blend into a dull buzzing, but he shrugged it away. That was fine, too, and much easier on the ears.

So he was fine.

Slowly, slowly, the buzzing changed back into voices. Or rather, one voice.

"We're done now, Nicky," Warrick was there--had he even been gone?--helping him to lie down. "Hey," he sounded pleased. "You back with us?"

Oh god. Nick kept his eyes locked on Warrick's because he did not ever want to see Grissom's reaction to this. "He ain't never gonna believe it now." Wow. Was that his voice?

"Don't worry about it," Warrick soothed, pulling the blankets up around him.

A small part of Nick's mind pointed out the oddity of having Warrick Brown tuck him in. The rest of him just wanted to know--"What happened?"

"It got to be a little much for you, that's all." If Warrick was the slightest bit disturbed by any of this, it didn't show in his face or voice. "You just...went away for a little while."

Fear squeezed his chest so he could barely gasp out, "How long?"

"Twenty minutes--tops."

Oh. Nick wouldn't have been surprised if Warrick had told him "six months." He tried to think of something to say to show everyone he was okay, but the words that were usually automatic now escaped him.

"You still need rest, Nick," Warrick told him. "Try to get some more sleep."

Okay. So he wasn't crazy--Warrick was. "Sleep? But Grissom still doesn't--we have to talk to...there's the thing with the smoke..."

"Hey," Warrick shook his head. "Hey, I've got it covered, okay? I'm taking care of it."

Of course he was. When didn't Warrick take care of things? Of him?

"Just try to rest, Nicky."

That sounded good. Sleep sounded good. This time Nick saw the wave of unawareness coming toward him, so that had to be better, right?

Conrad always had the sneaking suspicion this would happen. That if he ever let his guard down and became even remotely tolerant of Gil Grissom, the man would take blatant advantage of it.

That certainly seemed to be the case today.

Exactly what was going on, Conrad didn't know. He was the damn lab director, and he didn't have the slightest idea why several members of the graveyard shift weren't showing up for work. Oh, he knew it had something to do with Nick Stokes--that much he'd been able to figure out. And really, he wanted the Texan to recover as much as anyone, but this would be the third shift in four days that Warrick Brown had called in, not to mention that he had just cut out in the middle of a double that very morning.

Johnson had already been assigned this shift off, but Conrad was fairly certainly Hodges had not. Hodges wasn't there, though--Henry Andrews was returning a favor and working his shift. It annoyed Conrad no end, because he had planned to call Andrews in to speed things up that night.

Grissom himself had shown up for work late, and then told--told--Conrad that he might have to leave at any given moment. Sanders also checked in, seeming prepared to stay for the whole shift, but looking shell-shocked about something he wouldn't discuss.

This was just not what Conrad needed tonight. The sheriff was all over the bizarre homicide at SNWCF--not only was it the second death at the prison in as many years, but the victim had been in the news lately linked with a CSI. They wanted it wrapped up neatly and quickly. The home invasion Brown had been investigating had happened to the mayor's niece, so although the lack of injury or damage meant it wasn't technically a priority case, the mayor had a different opinion and wanted to know why the investigation wasn't moving faster.

He'd relayed these problems to Catherine before Grissom's arrival and she had done a fairly good job of covering even though it was obvious Grissom had not told her a single thing about what was going on. As far as Conrad was concerned, Grissom's behavior on that score was not so much poor supervisory skill as it was blatantly stupid. Catherine Willows was not only a co-supervisor, she was also a woman you did not want to piss off.

Grissom must have managed to get some information across to his team, because rather than being angry at being left out of the loop, Catherine smoothly stepped up to run the shift, leaving Grissom to pore over several files and texts in his office. She handed off Kelly Gordon's homicide to day shift, and assigned Warrick's case to Sidle, leaving herself and Sanders free to take care of any incoming calls. Conrad got the distinct impression that none of them had received any explanation, yet strangely, even the temperamental Sidle didn't seem to have a problem with that. Hell, Brass had walked into Grissom's office demanding answers and walked out muttering something about "going on faith."

Maybe, Conrad decided, it wasn't that he was irritated by Grissom's disregard for his authority after all.

More likely he was irritated by his own envy.

How Grissom managed to wrap a team of such diverse personalities around his little finger with such ease was a secret Conrad would give nearly anything to know.

Archie arrived just before Grissom, Greg and Hodges had to leave for their shift. The idea of their numbers dwindling from five to three didn't sit well with Hodges, so in the face of Grissom's disdain, he called in a favor from another trace tech. Warrick wasn't about to say anything, but he was very glad Hodges was staying. The man complained non-stop about everything, but he treated the situation so matter-of-factly that it made things much easier on Nick. That was all that mattered to Warrick.

It wasn't long after Grissom and Greg left that the thing decided to make its presence known again. There was no actual attack, merely sounds, but they were enough to set everyone's nerves on edge and Warrick could see they were slowly driving Nick back to a state of deliberate unawareness. Warrick had done his best not to let on, but he was terrified that if it happened too often, one of these times Nick wouldn't make it back.

As if having that thing snarling and laughing at them hadn't been enough, Hodges began complaining that Nick was taking up the couch when someone else could probably use a rest. He dragged Archie along with him and remade Nick's bed, then insisted that if Nick was going to "lie around the whole night," he do it in his room. Nick was still too fuzzy to really register the remarks, but Warrick was not. Since it seemed to be the only way to shut Hodges up, he brought Nick in the bedroom and settled him in bed. He also refrained from throwing a punch at Hodges, which took more effort than anything else.

They had decided early on that no one would be in a room alone unless absolutely necessary, but Warrick didn't bother pretending that was his reason for seating himself at the head of Nick's bed. It was only after Nick fell asleep that Warrick noticed how much quieter it was. Even with the open door, the thing's ranting was barely audible. After several more minutes of bemusement, Warrick realized that Hodges had maneuvered them into the only room which had been thoroughly smudged.

Although Warrick could no longer hear the entity outside the bedroom, he could still hear Hodges complaining to Archie. About the contents of Nick cupboards while he cobbled together something for them to eat. About the Sci-Fi channel Archie was watching, thereby distracting the unnerved young tech away from the horrible noises. About being a servant while he finished cleaning up the broken mugs. About, about, about until Warrick dozed off to the sound of it.

He awoke with a crick in his neck and a stiff back, which meant he'd been sleeping in his upright position for some time. Glancing at Nick's bedside clock, he saw that he'd been out for just over three hours. Stunned, he immediately looked down at his side and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Nick sleeping peacefully. Lying with his back pressed close to Warrick's leg, Nick's breathing was deep and even, his expression untroubled. When Warrick reached down to stroke his hair, Nick merely let out a soft murmur.

Warrick heard footsteps and turned to see Hodges standing in the doorway. "I suppose you expect me to bring you a cup of coffee," the chemist said by way of a greeting.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks," Warrick felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Seems a bit quieter out there."

"For the past couple of hours," Hodges nodded. "So we drank all Nick's beer, ate all his food and ordered pay-per-view on his TV."

The smile got away. "I'll let him know."

Hodges snorted in acknowledgment and left.

Warrick looked down at Nick again, tempted to stretch out beside him for reasons that had nothing to do with sore joints. Before he could even consider all the reasons that might be a bad idea, Nick began to shift and make small noises. Keeping his eyes on Nick's profile, Warrick watched the long lashes flutter briefly, then open. "Hey," he said softly.

Nick twisted slightly to look up at him and smiled a drowsy smile that made Warrick's heart speed up. Then slowly, the smile faded and awareness crept into his expression. "Hey," he replied, more subdued now than seconds before. "Update?" he requested tentatively.

"You've been asleep for three hours," Warrick smiled at him. "So have I, for that matter. Hodges says the thing shut up a couple of hours ago."

"That's good," Nick slowly began to push himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly.

"Want me to get your meds?"

"No," Nick stretched cautiously. "It's not intolerable, and I don't like how foggy they make me." Moving like someone thirty years older, he finally got out of bed and headed for the door. He paused briefly after crossing the threshold, but when nothing happened, he continued on to the bathroom. There was a brief moment of awkwardness that Warrick settled by leaning against the doorjamb with his back to Nick. Nick didn't protest, apparently deciding that the less said about this particular aspect, the better.

Archie immediately stood up when they reached the sofa. "Hungry?" he asked Nick.

Nick shook his head as he sat down carefully.

"When was the last time you ate anything, anyway?" Warrick asked. Nick sighed, and that was answer enough. Warrick detoured to the fridge and grabbed a protein shake which he handed to Nick with a stern look before sitting next to him.

Archie made a face. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have something else? We could probably order something."

"This is all I can handle right now, Arch," Nick said as he opened the bottle. "Thanks, though."

The silence that fell over them quickly became tense and uncomfortable. They were all on edge, watching and listening for the slightest sign of the thing's return. Archie certainly wasn't helping things, as far as Warrick was concerned. The A/V tech would watch Nick intently until Nick happened to glance in his direction, then he'd quickly look away. Not surprisingly, his actions were making Nick uneasy. It was something Archie had been doing since he arrived, but Nick had still been in a haze and hadn't noticed then.

Warrick knew Archie had been instrumental in helping Nick, but that didn't give him the right to stare as though Nick was a sideshow attraction. He was about to say something to that effect when Archie squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Nick."

Nick looked up and relaxed a touch when Archie didn't look away.

"I just--I wanted to say I'm sorry about...this."

"About--?"

"The tape," Archie glanced away again, then back. "Grissom specifically told me not to listen to your recording, and I knew you wouldn't like it, either...but I went ahead and--well, I filtered your voice out after the first few sentences. I wasn't trying to--no one else heard any of it."

"Arch--" Nick held up a hand.

"I just--look, you're probably pissed off about it--I can see why. It's--I know it's something that bothers you. I remember the...Crane case, and that's why I tried to keep it to myself."

Suddenly Warrick remembered, too. Archie had been the one who had to go through hours of Crane's videotapes looking for incriminating statements--that couldn't have been easy. Now that annoyance was no longer coloring his perception, Warrick could see that this had taken its toll on the young tech, as well. Archie's face was noticeably drawn, and his usually neat hair was shaggy--obviously he'd had more important things on his mind lately.

Nick, of course, had picked up on it before he had, and managed to push aside most of his anxiety in order to reassure Archie. "Easy, okay? I'm not angry. Really."

"Okay," Archie nodded and released that pent-up breath. "Hearing that god awful voice was bad enough, but I knew how you'd feel about--I never felt right not letting you know. So I tried to--" he shook his head, unable to continue.

Hodges let out an exasperated noise. "When I traded off my shift for this, I expected to be stuck with evil entities, not maudlin Trekkies."

Warrick had to look away to hide a smile, giving Hodges silent credit for dispersing the tension. Archie settled for a glare instead of a retort, and Nick relaxed enough that his voice was steady when he spoke. "Archie, don't worry about anything you did, okay? If anything, I'm grateful. This morning I was convinced I was going crazy, but now we actually know what it is--more or less. And as of tomorrow, we'll be able to start getting rid of it."

The words had barely passed his lips when the entire house went dark--even the lights outside suddenly disappeared.

"Nick?" Warrick immediately reached out until he found Nick's arm and held on. Nick didn't say anything in reply, but Warrick could hear his terror in his sudden change of breathing.

"Dammit," Hodges' voice had taken on an edge. "It must have been saving up its strength for this."

"What--what do we do?" Archie sounded as though he was barely maintaining. "Will that smudge thing work?"

Something shattered near the kitchen counter.

"I'm gonna go with 'no,'" David said.

The next thing that broke sounded as though it hit the wall not far from Warrick's head and he ducked automatically. Something else splintered, then something else, picking up speed until it sounded as though the entire contents of Nick's kitchen were hurtling at them. "Get down!" Warrick ordered, rolling off the couch and pulling Nick with him. "Sorry," he said when Nick let out a yelp of pain.

"No..." Nick whispered, then let out another sharp cry.

The thing started laughing again.

"Nicky?" Warrick pulled Nick closer and felt a warm stickiness through the shaking man's shirt sleeve. "No...goddammit, no!"

"What is it?" David yelled to be heard over the ever-increasing noise. In addition to the horrific laughter, all doors in the house began rapidly opening and slamming shut.

"It's attacking him," Warrick said, trying to protect as much of Nick as he could. Nick was trying to stifle his reaction, but Warrick could still hear his pained gasps.

"What if we--ow!"

"Stay down, Archie!" Warrick ordered.

"We can't just sit here!" Archie's voice came from much lower this time.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped and a voice said with chilling clarity--"This ends now."

Warrick's eyes took a few moments to adjust when the lights flickered back on, and it took several more for him to believe what he was seeing. He expected to find Nick's house in shambles but it looked almost exactly as it had when the lights went off. The only things that were different were Nick's spilled protein shake, the broken smudge pot and the stocky woman standing right in the middle of the place.

Obsidian eyes surveyed every corner of the living room and kitchen before coming to rest on Hodges. "This building wasn't completely smudged."

It was merely an observation, and there was nothing accusatory about it, but Hodges still took offense. Warrick wasn't surprised--it was how Hodges reacted to nearly everything. "Hey, don't look at me. I wasn't the one all gung-ho to do it."

"Was Greg distracted?" she asked.

"Yeah, our boss was here," Hodges replied, some of the pissiness leaving his tone.

Warrick was helping Nick back onto the couch and didn't notice the woman's approach until they were seated again.

"Hello, Nick," she said quietly. "I'm Glenda White Feather. David and Greg told you about me, I believe."

"Yeah," Nick mustered a welcoming smile.

"And..." Glenda turned to Warrick, and Warrick found himself being weighed and measured by those black eyes. A look of surprise flickered across the medicine woman's face, then she nodded to herself.

"Warrick Brown," Warrick said.

"Glenda White Feather," she returned. "I'm very glad to meet you. I'd like to apologize for not arriving sooner. I knew the situation could become serious, but I wanted to be better prepared. There were problems discerning Nick's totem animal."

Nick laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "Sorry," he said, looking back up at Glenda.

"That's all right," Glenda nodded in understanding. "It would help if you believed, but it's not an absolute necessity. I'll be the one banishing Baichee-Nee, so all that matters is that I know and believe." She reached out and put one hand under Nick's chin, tilting his face upward. The moment she touched him, the thing began raging--light fixtures rattled and cupboard doors began opening and closing. Nick looked as though he wanted to jerk away, but Glenda shook her head, so he remained still. Glenda refused to move in the face of all the spitting and snarling, and after only a minute or two, the thing's tone turned petulant, then eventually stopped. Only then did Glenda take her hand from Nick's chin. "This may not be as difficult as I originally thought," she said, glancing at Warrick, then back at Nick.

"That's good to know," Nick said quietly, and when he looked at Warrick, there was the tiniest spark of hope in his expression. Warrick still wasn't sure what to make of Glenda, but he wasn't about to discourage Nick, so he smiled and nodded in return.

"You were hurt again," Glenda observed. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Yeah, um...my bathroom cupboard," Nick looked at the deep scratches on his arms.

"I'll get it," Archie offered, looking relieved to finally know what people were talking about.

"You don't have plants and herbs you use for that?" Warrick asked, belatedly realizing he might sound mocking rather than just dubious.

Glenda didn't take offense. "Chemicals work just as well for healing the body. It's when healing a spirit that the medicine needs to come from other living things."

Although her words weren't quite smack down, Warrick still felt vaguely chastised. Whatever he thought, she was in charge and knew what she was doing. It was a little like working with Grissom.

"Why isn't anything broken?" Archie asked when he returned with the first aid kit.

Warrick took it from him and began tending to Nick's more serious wounds.

"Sounds often taken less energy than actually moving things," Glenda explained. "Baichee-Nee may be stronger than most, but even it couldn't cause that sort of chaos and attack Nick at the same time. Except the doors. Doors are something of a specialty for many spirits. Which is why I didn't knock, by the way."

Warrick frowned and glanced at the others--from their confused looks it was obvious they didn't know if Glenda was joking, either.

"May I?" Glenda gestured toward the wing chair.

"Of course," Nick said, then winced as Warrick began cleaning another gash.

"There are several layers of protectiveness in your home," Glenda told Nick matter-of-factly. "Although that kept Baichee-Nee from attacking sooner, it has also made it more determined and vicious." She tilted her head to the side, then nodded again. "Many layers. All of them placed unintentionally, though. If all these people who wished to keep you safe had known how to project such protection intentionally, it's doubtful Baichee-Nee would have ever been able to touch you. That certainly explains why it wanted to remain hidden."

The blinds behind Nick rattled angrily.

"Don't move," Glenda said sharply, when Nick began to rise off the couch. "If it had the energy to attack directly, it would have done so."

Nick stayed where he was, but a shudder ran through him. Warrick instinctively shifted closer.

"I don't exactly call that remaining hidden," Hodges observed.

"He's been discovered--seen," Glenda looked at Warrick. "When?"

"When did I actually see something?" Warrick glanced at Nick, trying to reassure him with a look that he was not going to tell a stranger everything he'd seen. He suspected Glenda might already know about it, anyway. "This morning."

"And the physical wounds were hidden until then?"

"Yes," Nick nodded wearily. "They all...appeared at once."

"It wished to isolate you as much as possible," Glenda told Nick. "With no one acknowledging it, Baichee-Nee had more opportunities to...strike."

Warrick was grateful to Glenda for not referring to the nature of the attacks, even though everyone present probably had a good idea about it. He was equally relieved that her presence seemed to be reducing much of Nick's fear, but he wanted her to do her job, and quickly. "This is all really interesting," he said, trying to sound polite despite his impatience. "But what we really want to know is how to get rid of it."

Glenda raised an eyebrow, "Should I just snap my fingers and banish it?"

Another bit of chastising, Warrick knew, but he didn't really care this time. "Everyone keeps implying that whenever it's quiet, it's gathering strength. Should we be giving it that opportunity?"

There seemed to be a new respect in Glenda's expression when she looked at him, "You certainly do pay attention, even if you don't necessarily believe. And you're absolutely right, but it's also important we not be rushed. Hurrying would only lead to mistakes."

Warrick backed off, albeit reluctantly. He knew without testing the theory that Glenda White Feather was not going to do anything until she felt it should be done. Since any arguing or pushing from him would only make things more difficult for everyone concerned--especially Nick--he decided to keep his peace. The thing--Warrick was not going to give it the benefit of any sort of name--seemed less powerful while she was there, and he was willing to wait as long as things stayed that way.

"You need more rest, if you can," Glenda laid her hand over Nick's. "I'll try to take on as much of the burden as possible, but your strength will be needed as well."

Nick shook his head, but didn't pull his hand away. "I'm still not really sure..."

"I know," Glenda said. "But do you believe I want to help you?"

After studying her in silence for a time, Nick nodded.

"Good. I've done more with less."

"I just got off the phone with Archie."

Gil looked up from his computer screen. He waved Greg inside, saying, "Close the door behind you." He also made a determined effort not to let it bother him that Greg was being kept in the loop before he was. "How's Nick?"

"Okay," Greg sat down. "There was another attack, but Glenda's there now."

"Did they call her?"

"Nope," Greg gave a nervous laugh. "She showed up ahead of schedule. Arch said the Baichee-Nee has left Nick alone since she got there."

The alert expression in Greg's eyes made it obvious he was looking for Gil's reaction to the news. The young CSI would have to wait a long time--Gil saw no reason to mention that he'd spent the past several hours researching shamanism and Native legends. That his research also included checking Glenda White Feather's reputation was, of course, a given. He had no desire to see that overly-innocent expression of Greg's that suggested he was taking the medicine woman's involvement a bit too personally.

Greg gave up on a reaction after a few seconds of looking. "She's redoing the smudging. I did the bedroom properly, but not the rest of the house."

It took some effort, but Gil refrained from commenting on that. "Did Archie say when she would begin the...cleansing?"

"When she's ready."

Gil acknowledged that with a nod and the barest hint of a smile. It fit in with everything else he'd learned about the woman. She had a no-nonsense reputation that he would not have expected from someone so deeply involved in the supernatural.

Served him right for assuming.

He was trying to maintain his usual calm, collected attitude toward this situation, but doubted he was fooling anyone into believing he considered this another case. For one thing, it involved Nick, who had barely finished recovering from his first ordeal. For another, it was challenging every logical, scientific theory he'd always counted on. There was no solid scientific proof that ghosts existed, but how could he not believe what Warrick--one of the most pragmatic people he knew--was telling him? The marks on Nick's body could be explained away, but it would likely mean believing that Nick was so far gone he was inflicting them on himself. Ghosts were certainly the preferable option in that case.

The coincidences of the Fortean-like dig on Carney Lane, Kelly Gordon's death and Nick's attacks would be too much to ignore under any other circumstances. Gil had often been ready to consider the very edge of scientific certainty--just barely acceptable theories and possibilities--and it usually served him well. This time he was going to have to go one step further.

"Are you going back to Nick's?" Greg looked unnerved by Gil's silence.

"Of course," Gil replied. "As soon as the shift ends."

Nick didn't protest when Glenda suggested he rest until she was ready to begin, even though he "had no sleep left," as he used to tell his mother when he was little. He was wide awake, but the idea of lying down was very appealing to his bruised and battered body. That fact that Warrick stayed with him in the room was equally appealing to his bruised and battered psyche.

No matter how hard he tried to face what was happening to him, much of it still seemed surreal. Reality was Warrick prodding him into drinking another protein shake to make up for the one that had been spilled. Even the fact that he had been assaulted in this very room, on this very bed, seemed to fade into illusion. Reality was lying still and closing his eyes, even though he wasn't sleepy, because when he did, Warrick would begin running strong fingers through his hair. The voices outside--Glenda smudging, Archie questioning and David complaining--seemed much farther away than the next room. What was important was the way Warrick used the endearment "baby" without seeming to think about it.

Nick did doze off and on--it was almost impossible not to when cocooned so wonderfully in the darkness with Warrick right next to him. At some point Warrick decided to save wear-and-tear on his back and stretched out as well, although he remained propped on one elbow most of the time. Thoughts filtered through Nick's mind as he floated comfortably in that drowsy space between the waking and sleeping worlds.

Because it seemed so far away right now, he thought about the rape and how he felt--rather that he still didn't know how he felt. He'd taken the courses and read the literature about victims and the myriad of reactions they experienced, but still wasn't sure how he felt about it. This was nothing like what happened before--that was secret and horrible and something he still couldn't tell because he would never be entirely certain he hadn't somehow been responsible. This had been witnessed, several people were aware of it, and although that made cringe, at the same time it seemed less of a burden than what happened when he was nine.

Because it was so close, Nick thought about the way his relationship with Warrick had shifted. He had a strong suspicion that he had some part--however small--in the downfall of Warrick's marriage, and if he tried very hard, he could even feel a little bit bad about that. It was something of a relief, though, to know that he hadn't misread all the cues Warrick had sent over the last year or the emotions Warrick had displayed during his early recovery. When this was over and Warrick's annulment final, it was something they would have to explore.

Because his self-doubt had only increased over the past several months, Nick couldn't help worrying that any relationship between himself and Warrick could be over before it began, thanks to this creature's actions. He hadn't been with many men, but at least that thing hadn't been the first--Nick couldn't repress a shudder.

"S'okay, Nicky," Warrick murmured and Nick could feel warm breath on the nape of his neck.

He smiled, suddenly unable to imagine ever fearing of Warrick's touch and if he ever did...well, he knew he'd be able to get through it if it meant being with Warrick.

There was always the chance that Warrick was being so caring and comforting because of the situation, but Nick didn't think so. Fortunately, there was a way to find out.

Before he could get scared and change his mind, Nick reached up to take the hand that was stroking his hair. He felt Warrick freeze behind him, but then Nick twined their fingers together and the larger man relaxed again. Nick held that hand close to his chest, wondering briefly if Warrick could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

He didn't realize they had fallen asleep until he opened his eyes to see Glenda standing over them.

"It will be time soon."

Warrick and Nick walked into the living room to find Glenda ushering Greg and Archie toward the door while both young men protested the whole time.

"Ideally, only Nick and I would be involved in the banishment," Glenda explained calmly in the face of Greg's coaxing and Archie's insistence. "But I know that's impossible in this case. The next best option is to have three others besides Nick and myself. Any more would only provide Baichee-Nee with opportunities for distraction."

"And you decide who it's going to be?" Archie frowned. "No discussion?"

"Is this because I messed up on the smudging?" Greg looked hurt. Warrick couldn't tell it was real or for Glenda's benefit. "I'll pay more attention for this, I swear."

"This has nothing to do with your desire to help Nick," Glenda assured them, herding them along all the while. "It is plain you would do anything--and have already done very much. The three who are staying are doing so for very special reasons."

"Which are..?" Archie looked at the jacket in his hand as though wondering how it got there.

Glenda explained patiently, "Warrick, obviously, is the closest person to Nick." Archie and Greg both nodded readily at this. "Dr. Grissom is Nick's mentor and possibly the most protective after Warrick." If either man objected to Grissom being chosen, neither had the nerve to say so with their boss in the room. "And David has done this before."

"What?" In unison from Archie, Greg and Hodges. Greg pointed as if to say--See?

Glenda glanced over her shoulder. "David, do you mean to tell me that in all your years you've never been there when Laurel has helped a spirit move on? Never seen her giving a malevolent spirit an extra push?"

Warrick looked at Hodges curiously, as did everyone else in the room. "Not with a bunch of ceremony like this," Hodges said, trying to sound snide but not quite pulling it off this time.

Glenda turned back to Greg and Archie, "The best way for you to help Nick now would be to go home and rest. You've already done much and he may still need your support after Baichee-Nee is gone."

Greg and Archie exchanged glances, then Archie nodded reluctantly. "Someone has to call us when it's finished."

Grissom opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Glenda did, "Someone will."

"Okay," Greg looked at Nick, who was still standing near the bedroom door. "Good luck."

"Thanks for everything, guys," Nick said.

Archie looked troubled by his words, and Warrick knew it was because they had a vague ring of finality, but the A/V tech managed a smile and a wave before going out the door. Greg followed after another gentle shove from Glenda.

"Hodges, have you really done this before?" Grissom sounded as aggravated by the chemist as he ever did.

Hodges glared at Glenda and Warrick knew he was thinking any reputation he'd had as a scientist had just gone up in smudge smoke.

"I didn't say he had banished a spirit," Glenda corrected, moving some of Nick's furniture around as she spoke. "I said he was present when it was done. Although I don't believe Laurel has ever encountered a spirit such as Baichee-Nee." She shot Hodges a questioning look.

"I would have heard about that whether I wanted to or not," Hodges agreed.

Glenda made a small sound of amusement. She surveyed Nick's great room, having pushed furniture out of the way in order to set one pair of dining chairs directly across from each other, about eight feet apart. The second pair were the same distance apart, perpendicular to the first so they looked like four points of a compass. Taking Nick's arm, she led him to the center of all four chairs. "Just stand there for now, Nick. Dr. Grissom?" she looked at him.

"I'm still not convinced this is the best course of action."

"You don't have to be," Glenda took his arm as well and guided him toward the chair near the bedroom door. "What is important is that you do not step outside the invisible boundaries created by the chairs."

"The circle," Grissom said flatly.

"Yes," Glenda nodded her approval, seeming glad that Grissom was keeping up. "You may move about your half as much as you like, but also must not cross into the opposite half of the circle."

Grissom opened his mouth as if to speak, but Glenda had moved onto Warrick, sending him to the chair to Grissom's right, putting him directly in line with Glenda and Nick, even though Nick's back was to him at the moment. Warrick was not pleased with the distance between himself and Nick, and Glenda picked up on that at once. "When the ceremony has begun, you may all move as close to Nick as you like, providing you don't cross into the opposite half or distract him from what he must do. Is that clear?" She spoke to all of them but looked at Warrick.

Not trusting his voice, Warrick nodded in agreement.

Glenda checked the small buckskin pouch she wore around her neck, then picked up a smoldering smudge pot and a large eagle feather from the kitchen counter. "David," she nodded to the chair across from Grissom.

David strode to the chair, muttering something under his breath that Warrick would have loved to have been able to catch.

"Nick," Glenda's voice was quiet but deadly serious. "You have much in your favor to make this less difficult than it would be for most people, but that doesn't mean it will be easy. The ceremony doesn't require your belief, but will require your strength. Baichee-Nee will try anything to disrupt the ceremony, including but not exceeding everything it's done to you before." She paused as Nick's breath hitched, "But if you can endure it once more--in this ceremony--it will be the last time. Do you believe you can stand it?"

Warrick would have given anything to see Nick's expression, but instead he could only watch as Nick's head dipped slightly. "I can do this," Nick said, his voice surprisingly firm. "If it means it's the last time, I'll stand it until you tell me to let go."

After patting Nick's arm reassuringly, Glenda took a few steps back. "Once I begin, none of you will be able to cross those boundaries I've indicated. If--"

"Wait." Grissom stood up, "Nicky, are you sure about this?"

"Gris, it's a little late to worry about that now," Nick laughed nervously.

"Forgive me for being late, but I only learned about this recently." Grissom's tone kept Warrick from jumping into the conversation. "This could be something very serious, Nick. Haven't you looked into some...less alternative options? I don't feel right encouraging this."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Glenda said calmly, drawing Grissom's attention away from Nick. "Your presence would have been very helpful."

"Really?" Grissom regarded her with a cool stare. "I don't presume to know everything about your system of religion, but wouldn't you require the belief of the participants? I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help in that case."

"As I told Nick before you arrived, only I need believe in the power of the ceremony--I am the one performing it. The rest of you are here to provide extra help and protection for Nick through your wishes for his recovery." Glenda sounded as though she were dealing with a recalcitrant student, "All I ask is that you sit in that chair and concentrate on hope for Nick's well-being. If you feel you are unable to do that, then perhaps it would be best that you leave."

A heavy-silence fell over the men. Wide-eyed, Nick looked behind him at Warrick, then over to Grissom.

His expression unreadable, Grissom sat back down.

"Are you ready, Nick?" Glenda asked. She waited calmly while Nick looked around again, then nodded to indicate he was. "Then turn so you're facing west, please."

Nick blinked. "West?"

"That'd be me," Hodges said.

From the corner of his eye, Warrick saw Grissom tilt his head, which meant he was wondering why Hodges was at least somewhat familiar with the ceremony. Warrick was actually wondering the same thing.

"Sue me for knowing my directions," Hodges said snidely. Warrick knew the chemist was speaking to him, because he would never have directed that tone at Grissom.

Glenda ignored them and began wafting smudge smoke along the length of Nick's left side. Nick sniffed appreciatively, "At least the stuff smells good." Warrick could tell he was trying to hide his nervousness.

"And Dr. Grissom was kind enough to check for hallucinogens," Glenda said mildly. "Face west please, Nick," she added when Nick began to turn to look at Grissom.

Warrick was free to look at Grissom, though, and saw his mentor watching the medicine woman's every move. He also saw Grissom start visibly when a low muttering began reverberating through the house, but after that Warrick returned his attention to Nick. He was relieved to see Nick was actually maintaining fairly well, his breathing had speeded up, but otherwise he hadn't reacted to the noise.

"Now south, Nick," Glenda said evenly, as though there wasn't anything swearing--Warrick assumed it was swearing--and growling at her in some arcane language.

Warrick smiled encouragingly when Nick faced him, and Nick nodded in return, but wasn't able to summon a smile of his own. All Warrick could content himself with was that the brown eyes remained alert and here. Nick was obviously determined not to let the creature drive him away again.

The thing was growing louder all the time, so that when Glenda told Nick to face Grissom, she had to nearly yell. Grissom, Warrick could tell, was trying to sort all this out even as he regarded Nick steadily. Only when Glenda finished Nick's left side and had him face her--north--did Grissom give Warrick an astounded look. Warrick could only shrug as if to say didn't I tell you?

Glenda frowned and stopped wafting the smoke toward Nick. "Ne sua'en," she bit out.

The room went absolutely silent for a split-second, then erupted into a symphony of rage. It was mostly noise, but several pictures fell off the wall and the cupboard doors began their usual tricks. Glenda patted Nick's arm once more then continued smudging. Eventually the creature subsided again, although its voice was even more malicious now.

"Wh-what did you say to it?" Nick asked, his voice low.

"I said 'I know you.' And now Baichee-Nee knows it is dealing with a descendant of those who defeated it in life."

"Do you think provocation is a good idea?" Grissom asked.

Some part of Warrick was amused that Grissom didn't actually acknowledge there was anything incorporeal in the room--the rest of him wanted to ask Grissom the same question of Glenda.

Glenda's entire concentration was on Nick and she didn't answer the entomologist. She laid a hand on Nick's shoulder. "If you would sit on the floor, Nick, we'll begin the banishment."

Grissom now had an entirely new line of inquiry. "Where will you be banishing it to?"

That question was deigned worthy of an answer. "It's called a banishment ceremony, but in this case, it's actually an imprisonment." She knelt in front of Nick and set the smudge pot and feather some distance away from them before pulling the pouch from around her neck and opening it.

"Where are you going to imprison it, then?" Grissom was determined to have answers no matter how bizarre the situation.

"Here," Glenda pulled a small, pale blue feather from the pouch. The thing decided to sweep everything off the kitchen counters in response. The medicine woman took Nick's right hand and laid the bluebird feather on his palm, then pressed both his hands together. "Keep them together from here on out, no matter what happens. That is the most important thing about this ceremony."

Warrick could see Nick's shoulders and arms flex in response to Glenda's order.

"Now," Glenda regarded him steadily. "Where do you want Baichee-Nee to go, Nick?"

"In...into the...feather?"

Glenda gave him one of her rare smiles. "And do you believe the feather can hold Baichee-Nee, Nick? Truthfully?"

"Ummm..."

"Forget where you believe I want Baichee-Nee to go. Where do you want it to go?"

Nick shook his head, at a loss. "Away from me..."

"Perfect," Glenda nodded her approval. "Then that's all you need concentrate on--that and holding the feather. Let me worry about everything else." She looked around at the three other men, "I assume you all want that for Nick, so you need to concentrate on that alone. I will do the imprisoning. Now close your eyes."

Warrick half-expected her to begin chanting, but instead Glenda spoke in a coaxing voice. The thing did not appreciate whatever she was saying and almost immediately, Nick's bookshelves began to rattle.

Hodges, whose chair was in front of the shelves, took a quick look behind him and planted himself on the floor where he was better shielded. "First cups, now this," he muttered. "Should have gone to work--at least I'm the one throwing stuff there."

Warrick and Grissom quickly followed his example when books began flying off the shelves. Several books narrowly missed Nick and Glenda, and Warrick saw Glenda pass her hand over Nick's eyes. Likely Nick wanted to see what was happening.

"I knew it was doubtful Baichee-Nee would move on simply because I asked," Glenda explained, speaking to them all but keeping her eyes on Nick. "But it had to be attempted."

Books were scattered all over the floor, but no one had been hit. Grissom was surveying the scattered library as though searching for a book that held the answers he sought. For someone who was in complete disbelief and had suddenly been thrown into a maelstrom of actuality, Grissom seemed to be dealing with everything fairly well. As for Hodges, he seemed to be looking over the place and cataloguing anything else that could be hurled.

Warrick could hardly blame him.

Then Glenda began singing in--Warrick assumed--Shoshoni. He had no idea what she might be saying, but it seemed to be more of a challenge or command than a song. The creature did not take kindly either to commands or challenges, and Warrick knew what was coming when all the lights in the house began flickering. He was looking out the window at the bright morning light when everything around him went black, and couldn't help wondering what Grissom made of this.

After several minutes of listening to Glenda singing and the thing raging, the darkness was broken by several small fires throughout Nick's house. Warrick was about to get to his feet until he realized the fires were all outside the borders Glenda had set. Grissom was standing, but froze when Glenda stopped singing long enough to say--"Leave them. They're lures." She sang another line, then spoke again. "Nick, don't concern yourself with what else might be going on. Don't let go of the feather."

In the flickering of firelight, Warrick saw Grissom slowly crouch back down, and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nick's back stiffen.

"Remember, Nick," Glenda told him, then sang a line. "Endure now and it will be for the last time."

Cautiously, Warrick moved closer, almost mesmerized by the way the flickering flame reflected off the sheen of sweat that covered what little he could see of Nick's face and neck. He glanced briefly at Glenda, then did a double take when he saw deep scratches forming on her skin as well.

"Nick," Glenda's voice was urgent. "Don't let go of the feather."

Nick let out a choked sound, and the tendons on his neck and arms strained as he struggled to keep his hands pressed together with the feather between them. For a moment, Warrick thought the dim light was playing tricks with his eyes, and nausea swept through him once he couldn't deny what he was seeing.

The oldest wounds on Nick's body had suddenly become new. Warrick could see the once-faded scratches on Nick's arms glistening with fresh blood, and dark splotches formed on the light-blue t-shirt Nick wore. Then Warrick knew what was going to happen. This creature, this monster, this thing was going to repeat everything it had done to Nick, but in rapid succession.

So it has to work this time. If we try the ceremony again later Nick will have more to go through.

Without thinking about whether what he was doing was good or bad, Warrick gripped Nick's shoulders and bowed his head until it was pressed between Nick's shoulder blades. "Hold on, Nicky, please..."

He could feel the sweat through Nick's shirt, feel Nick's fear and resolve. Then suddenly, he could feel the creature as well. There was such a certainty of superiority, such a sense of entitlement, that Warrick was sickened. More than that, there was rage that it had somehow been defeated in life by those meant only for its amusement and pleasure, and there were centuries worth of retribution for that defeat.

But not Nick, Warrick focused his thoughts on that. Nick is not here for your revenge or amusement or pleasure, dammit.

You have no right to do what you've done to him. You have no right to exist.

You lost once, you damn freak. You don't get another chance.

Nick is not another chance for you. You lost the game a long, long time ago.

You don't belong here. Nick doesn't belong to you.

He belongs to me.

Screaming white light exploded in Warrick's mind, but before he lost consciousness--did he lose consciousness?--he saw a streak of tawny from the corner of his eye, then a small flash of blue. Then darkness descended again, only to lift when he opened his eyes.

He found himself kneeling in the center of Nick's--unburned?--townhouse, books still scattered on the floor, with Glenda kneeling across from him. Nick was between them, half-lying on Warrick's lap, his arms and shirt covered with blood, his body limp and his face streaked with drying tears. Grissom had one hand on Warrick's shoulder and was taking Nick's pulse with the other, looking more pale and shaken than Warrick had ever seen him. Hodges was on his other side, intent on cleaning some of Nick's wounds with the scarf Glenda handed him.

Glenda gently pried apart Nick's interlaced fingers and took the--somewhat singed--feather, putting it back in the pouch around her neck. "My people will know how to safely dispose of Baichee-Nee's prison," she said, tired but confident.

"What the hell--?" Hodges sounded bewildered, which was so unlike him that it drew both Warrick's and Grissom's attention. "It's not...is this even Nick's blood?"

Warrick stared at Nick's arms--the areas where Hodges had wiped the away the blood were in the same nearly-healed state they'd been before the ceremony began. Everyone looked at Glenda questioningly.

"Baichee-Nee was too busy fighting me to do much actual damage," she explained readily. "You could say it was only thinking in the short-term. It wanted to distract Nick and thereby ruin the ceremony. It could cause Nick to see and feel the wounds, but not actually make them."

Then Nick began to stir, struggling slightly until Glenda put her hand on his chest. "Nick," she said clearly, and Nick opened his eyes. "It's over."

Warrick didn't even make it to the locker room before he was accosted by Ecklie. He closed his eyes in weary frustration before turning to face the Assistant Director.

"I'd like to speak to you in my office."

Not moving except to pull himself up to his full height, Warrick tried not to let his exhaustion show. Everyone had been tired after they'd finally gotten rid of that thing and broken the circle properly, so Grissom had suggested they all go home and get some rest before the next shift. Glenda left after smudging the entire house once more, but promised to return to stay with Nick while the others were at work, just to be on the safe side.

After looking at everyone to assure himself they were all right, Nick's eyes filled with tears of relief, and he fell into a deep sleep. He slept so soundly it worried Warrick, and instead of catching some shut eye himself, he kept checking to make sure Nick was still breathing. Warrick didn't regret that a bit, but knew he was probably going to pay for the lack of sleep now.

"Look, I know I've got a lot to catch up on," Warrick said, trying not to sound too on edge. "So whatever it is, let's just clear it up here and now and I'll get on with my job."

Ecklie studied him, obviously debating whether to press the issue of going to his office. Looking vaguely disturbed, he finally nodded. "Sidle took over your home invasion case. You can assist her."

Was that supposed to be a punishment? Probably, from Ecklie's point of view. "That's fine."

"I take it you don't have a doctor's certificate for the shifts you missed."

"'Fraid not," Warrick crossed his arms, knowing it probably made him look belligerent, but not caring at this point.

"Then the first two shifts will count as sick days. The third--as well as the shift you cut out on--will cost you two vacation days."

If Ecklie thought he was going to argue losing an entire vacation day to replace a half-shift, he was sadly mistaken. "No problem."

"And when you can find the time, you need to get to Personnel and redo your insurance forms to reflect your marital status."

"Not necessary," Warrick said easily. "We're getting an annulment."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ecklie said, and Warrick was surprised he made the effort to say so when he probably could have cared less. "Now get to work."

That was more like it. Warrick snorted and turned back toward the locker room, only to find himself face to face with Catherine.

"Annulled?" she arched an eyebrow and quirked a half-smile at him.

In the course of his career, Gil had exposed any number of cover ups, but had never dreamed he'd one day find himself perpetrating one of his own. If he truly wanted to, Gil supposed he could justify this particular cover up, and with a little more effort he could probably even find reasons why this wasn't really a cover up at all. None of that changed the fact that the Walter Gordon case was going to end up with a couple of loose ends.

Gil Grissom hated loose ends.

What else was he to do, though? The problem was made crystal clear as soon as he arrived for shift and found Sara waiting outside his office. She wanted answers--Sara always wanted answers. It was what made her a brilliant criminalist, but right now it was the last thing Gil needed. Although it hadn't been easy, he eventually managed to convince her that for Nick's sake, this recent activity was something he could not discuss. She accepted that, but then, her main concern was Nick's well-being, and that wouldn't be the case with everyone.

If the day's events went into a report, it would certainly mean problems for himself and the other witnesses, but it would be absolutely horrendous for Nick. Any report, even the most confidential, had a way of becoming known throughout the lab and something this bizarre would definitely get out to the rest of the police department. It could even, God forbid, be leaked to the press. Nick had been a subject of interest since his burial, and it was only by releasing the most mundane of statements that they had managed to deflect the press' interest. Reporters would descend on supernatural activity like vultures.

The painfully honest voice in the back of Gil's head asserted itself and said that all this nonsense about a cover up was simply his way of avoiding what he'd seen in Nick's house. He stifled that voice with years of practice and turned his attention to the tape. He could have Archie get rid of all the copies he'd made--Gil was sure Archie would be thrilled to do it--but that still left the tape. Gil couldn't bring himself to actually destroy evidence, no matter what the reason. With the case closed, however, Nick might be able to petition for the tape, citing his personal recording on it. What Nick did with it after that would be his own business. Gil made a mental note to mention it to Nick.

That left the Kelly Gordon homicide.

For the first time in his life, Gil didn't want to know what had happened.

The case had been handed to day shift, and they were more than welcome to bang their heads against that particular brick wall. Of course, the detective on the case--

"Gil?"

Gil smiled ruefully and beckoned Jim forward. "Come on in and sit down."

"Door?"

"Door."

Jim closed the door behind him and took a seat in front of Gil's desk. "I hope this means you're going to tell me what the hell is going on."

"Day shift is handling the Kelly Gordon case," Gil told him.

"I know."

"And the Walter Gordon case is closed."

Jim shook his head slightly, as though to clear it. "Closed? What about the accomplice? A voice on the tape?"

"Closed," Gil repeated firmly.

"Connections to Kelly Gordon's homicide?"

"Nonexistent."

"Nick's safety?"

"Taken care of."

Jim leaned back in his chair and regarded Gil through narrowed eyes. "Are you going to give me any sort of explanation?"

"Jim..." Gil took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know how. It just...isn't really explainable."

Silence settled over the office, then Jim shifted more comfortably into his chair. "I know how you love my Jersey stories," he said, making Gil smile. "So here's another one for you. I'd been a detective for a couple of years. Working a missing person's case. Young woman--Angie delVecchio--her mother reports her missing. Days go by, and we're getting nowhere. Woman comes into the station--looks like she could be Angie's twin sister--and tells us to check Angie's boss and even where to find the body, then just left--disappeared. Well, we looked into it a few hours later and sure enough there's a body where she said there would be--and it looks very familiar."

"And Angie didn't have a twin sister," Gil said with a faint smile.

"Exactly. What's more, the body had been there for days. We eventually found proof to nail Angie's boss," Jim shook his head. "Did you ever try to explain that in a report?"

"As a matter of fact..."

Jim nodded slowly, "Y'know, I was thinking--considering I worked Nick's burial, I probably should recuse myself from the Kelly Gordon case."

"That would be...something of relief," Gil admitted.

Another silence fell, and again Jim was the one to break it. "You ever going to tell me what this was all about?"

"Someday," Gil promised. "Whenever I figure it out myself."

Warrick had made a quick excuse about finding Sara and managed to avoid Catherine, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do that for long. Catherine proved him right by walking into the locker room midway through the shift. Warrick was getting a clean shirt from his locker, since an unfortunate sneeze had left the one he'd been wearing covered in print powder.

"Hey," Catherine said, going to her own locker.

"Hey." Warrick told himself there was absolutely no reason for him to feel uncomfortable, or to try finding a reason not to change with her there. It was ridiculous, actually. Any other time he'd have no trouble changing his shirt in front of Catherine or any number of people--the little streak of the exhibitionist in him even enjoyed it a bit. At one time, knowing that Catherine fantasized about him and having her show an interest in his annulment would have led to some smugness and maybe some flirting, but that was no longer the case.

"How's Nicky?" Catherine asked.

Trying to conceal his utter relief, Warrick opened his locker. "Okay. I think...I think things are going to get better from here on out."

"Thank God," Catherine murmured.

That's what you get for having such a big head, Brown. Of course she wanted to know about Nick. Much more relaxed, Warrick began unbuttoning his shirt.

"So...annulment."

Fuck. "Yeah," Warrick kept his eyes on the interior of his locker. "Should be final by the end of the month."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

Warrick frowned. Catherine could usually lie better than that. "Really?"

"Sure. For Tina. In an abstract sort of way."

Finally, Warrick turned toward her. "Catherine, I don't know how to--"

Catherine held up her hand and gave him a smile that was more genuine than any since she'd spotted his ring. "I'm sorry I ever told you what I did, Warrick, since it's put a strain on our friendship. But I have and I can't take it back. So let me just revise it a little by saying that it's much easier to give up a fantasy when you know why."

"You didn't know why before?"

"I didn't know Tina, so technically, I didn't know why." She looked at him steadily, "In this case--I know why."

Warrick couldn't think of anything to say.

"And I'm happy for Nicky, too."

He'd been ambushed.

Really, he should have known Dawson was setting him up by saying Archie and Greg were waiting for him in the break room. He should have just stayed in the trace lab instead of going out back for a break.

No sooner had the back door closed behind him then Archie and Greg stepped out of the darkness into that single circle of light as though they were in some 1940's film noire. All either of them had been told thus far was that Nick was all right and out of danger, but that was enough to lift their moods to the point that they looked ridiculously pleased with the success of their ruse.

"So?" Greg asked him, practically bouncing on the spot.

"So...what?" David asked.

"What happened?" Archie pressed.

"You already know what happened," David rolled his eyes. "The ceremony was a success. The Baichee-Nee is gone. Nick's probably going to sleep for a week, but should be okay eventually. The End."

"That's it?" Greg was practically pouting.

Oddly enough, the pout was more difficult to ignore than the glare. "What else do you need to know? Glenda is with him right now, and is going to stay with him for the next couple of nights. The rest of the time, Warrick is going to be looking after him."

"That's a given," Greg's pout turned into a wicked grin.

David already had his suspicions about that, but it sounded like the rookie CSI might have some stronger evidence. "It is?"

"Nick and Warrick?" Archie added. "For sure?"

Greg shrugged lightly. "For sure from Warrick's side anyway, probably from Nick's too, but definitely Warrick."

"How do you know?" Archie asked.

"I think he was more careful after," Greg explained with a chuckle. "But before everything started going down, he was calling Nick...y'know, baby and stuff. Gotta give him credit--not many people can make it sound that good."

Well, that was an interesting observation.

"Anyway, this was before I knew about his annulment, so--"

"Annulment?" Archie exclaimed.

"Didn't you get the e-mail?" David jibed.

"I mean, Nick is my friend, too," Greg continued. "So...well, I called Warrick on it."

"No way," Archie gaped at him.

David was impressed in spite of himself. "You've got all kinds of nerve, don't you?"

Greg's smile widened, even as he ducked his head.

"That's enough for me, man," Archie laughed. "I've got to go let Bobby know everything turned out okay."

David started to follow, but Greg grabbed his arm and didn't let go until the door had closed behind Archie. "What?"

"What was it like?"

How long did Sanders think he had for his break, anyway? "It was lights going out, books flying, doors banging and fires starting. What do you think it was like? It was chaos."

"Is it true what Glenda said? About you being around your sister when stuff like this was going on?"

David decided he wasn't going to dignify that with an answer.

"C'mon," Greg said, ducking his head again. If David didn't know better he'd almost say Sanders had been overcome by shyness. "You were the only one there not freakin'. I mean...how did you do that?"

Before he even realized what he was doing, David admitted, "Strange stuff used to happen around my sister quite a bit when we were growing up."

"Can't you fill me in on all this? Like...maybe we could go for breakfast after shift."

David had an arsenal of cutting remarks for a situation like this, but it was difficult to summon one when big brown eyes were peeking up at him from under longish bangs. "If that's what it takes to satisfy your curiosity," he replied, gratified to see the irrepressible young man blush.

No one bothered asking Warrick if he was working overtime. Even though not a murmur of anything supernatural had gone around, apparently news of his annulment had spread like wildfire. Warrick didn't concern himself with that, or with the inevitable speculation about the relationship between Nick and himself. The annulment was the truth, and the other soon would be if he had any say in the matter. So when he dropped off a surveillance tape with Archie and received a teasing grin in addition the usual "have a good morning," Warrick just snorted in amusement.

He hadn't received any calls while at work, but then Glenda was staying with Nick, and Warrick suspected she could handle anything that might come up. Besides, there was a good chance that Nick had slept just as soundly through the night as he had through the day. As he pulled up next to Glenda slightly beat-up VW, Warrick reflected that it would probably be some time before Nick felt like doing anything besides sleeping.

Glenda was sitting in Nick's wing chair reading, but she stood up when Warrick walked in. Warrick was struck again by how ordinary-looking she was, especially considering the extraordinary things she was capable of.

"Hi," he smiled when she greeted him. "How's Nick?"

"Asleep again. He woke up briefly a few hours ago and I managed to get some soup into him along with the pills he's supposed to be taking, then he was out like a light again."

Warrick wasn't surprised to hear what Glenda had accomplished, or that Nick was asleep again. "Great."

With a nod, Glenda gathered up her book, bag and coat. "I'll be back to stay with him tomorrow night as well, but he should be all right alone after that."

"Are you sure?" Warrick asked, again realizing too late that it sounded like he was doubting her word.

"I contacted powerful shamans from three other tribes. They are preparing now, and...well, tomorrow, actually, we will hold the ceremony to destroy the feather and Baichee-Nee. Nick will be safe after that."

"Thank you," Warrick said, his throat tightening suddenly. "I don't know what else to say--"

"There's no need to," Glenda assured him, then let herself out.

Warrick locked up behind her, then went to the bedroom. Nick had gotten into the habit of leaving the door open so the room was no longer in complete darkness, and Warrick could see Nick's peaceful expression.

Stripping down to his shorts, Warrick was eager to rest his weary body and mind next to Nick, until a sudden though occurred to him. Now that it was all over, should he still be sleeping next to Nick? Wouldn't that be pushing things? He didn't want to railroad Nick into anything. For all he knew Nick's responses to him had been the actions of a man searching for safety and security--God knew there were enough reasons for it if they were.

He was just considering going out to sleep on the sofa when Nick stirred, coming awake with a slight gasp, but calming again immediately. "Rick?"

"Yeah, I just got finished work," Warrick said in a low voice.

Eyes closed, nearly asleep again, Nick held up the covers.

Warrick's heart threatened to burst from his chest at the silent invitation. Without another word, he slipped into bed, smiling when Nick nestled in as closely as possible.

"I think the rest of your stuff is gonna have to stay in storage," Nick said as he surveyed his crowded living room.

"Or we could find a bigger place," Warrick said mildly.

Nick gave him what he knew was a somewhat goofy grin, but he couldn't help it. It had been nearly three weeks since the banishment ceremony, and by moving in some of Warrick's things they were acknowledging something that they had both known since Warrick first mentioned his annulment.

Warrick wasn't going anywhere.

Most of their co-workers seemed much less surprised by this new relationship than they had been by Warrick's marriage--a marriage now annulled. If anyone thought they were rushing things, no one so much as hinted at it. Nick didn't know if living together was the best idea or not, and he didn't care. Warrick wanted to be there and he definitely wanted Warrick there, so he didn't see the point in worrying about anything else.

"A bigger place?" Nick asked as innocently as he knew how. "So you want your own bedroom?"

Warrick stepped over some boxes to pull Nick close. "You want me to have my own bedroom?"

"No." Nick's smile widened, then he lifted his head to accept a soft kiss.

The kiss deepened almost immediately, but Nick could tell Warrick was still being very careful with him. Nick was grateful for his patience, but part of him didn't like the way Warrick stayed slightly detached when things heated up, always gauging his reaction. At the slightest flinch or pause from Nick, Warrick would slow things down.

As much as Nick loved the gentle kisses and caresses, he wanted to go quite a bit further. Not the entire way, but a lot further than they were getting right now. He felt certain that if Warrick could just overlook a few of his minor hesitations and keep going, things would be fine.

Nick slid one hand under Warrick's untucked shirt, making Warrick murmur appreciatively into his neck. Sometimes Nick was tempted to really push things just to see if he could crumble Warrick's iron control, but he never tried too hard. He knew Warrick had every reason to be so methodical and careful with him, especially considering that Warrick had seen an actual assault taking place--

Oh god, Nick froze as realization hit.

Warrick had seen it.

Sure enough, Warrick drew back slightly, even though things were nowhere near as intense as they sometimes got. "What is it, Nicky?"

Nick felt warm breath against his forehead and followed by soft lips. He lifted his head to meet worried green eyes. "Nothing," he said with a smile, but knew that despite the protestation, they were done for now. Warrick cradled his cheek in one hand and studied him in silence and Nick was relieved when the phone rang. Reluctantly untangling himself--because whatever else, he loved Warrick holding him close--he stepped over a few more boxes to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Nick. It's Glenda White Feather."

There was the tiniest spark of fear in the pit of his stomach, but Nick furiously extinguished it.

"I'm sorry it's been so long since I followed up with you," Glenda went on. "But after Baichee-Nee was finally banished, exams were practically on me and I had to see to that."

"Don't worry about that," Nick said with a smile. "You already did more than your fair share."

"Still, there must be questions you want answered, and I'd like to see for myself how you're doing, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Nick agreed readily. He barely knew the woman, but was happy to grant her any request. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel comfortable in his own house and knew that she was responsible for restoring that and the feeling of finally being rested and relaxed to him--although Warrick deserved a lot of the credit for that last one. The fact that he was returning to his job in the next week was also due to Glenda. If the woman wanted to rifle through his belongings or rack up long distance charges on his phone, Nick was going to let her do it. "I go back to work next week, but anytime this week..."

"How about Thursday? I don't have afternoon classes on that day."

"Thursday it is. Any time after one."

"I'll be there by one-thirty. I look forward to talking to you under less...fraught circumstances."

"Same here," Nick couldn't help laughing. "See you Thursday."

"Say hello to Warrick for me," Glenda said before she hung up.

Nick looked at the phone with bemusement, then shrugged and set it back in its nest. He looked at Warrick, "Glenda says hello."

"Ah," Warrick chuckled. "That's why the funny look. So she's coming to visit?"

"Yeah," Nick moved back toward him. "Thursday. She wants to see how I am, and she'll answer any questions we have."

"Do you have a lot of questions?"

"Hell, yeah. So many I don't know where to start," Nick shook his head.

"Hunh. That's kinda how I feel about all this unpacking." Warrick slid an arm around Nick's waist. "Your Cowboys are playing in fifteen minutes, cowboy. Let's ditch the unpacking for the day."

Nick put up a token protest, but fifteen minutes later, they were both on his sofa watching the game. It was just like old times--almost. Instead of sitting side-by-side, Nick spent most of the game with his head in Warrick's lap and Warrick toying with his hair.

He had no idea if the Cowboys won or not.

"I'll answer any questions I can, of course," Glenda said as she accepted a bottle of water from Nick. "Hopefully they aren't of the all-encompassing sort, though. I teach folklore, not religion or philosophy."

It was much easier to accept Glenda as a professor than a shaman, Warrick thought with a smile. He doubted he'd ever stop being thrown by how completely her appearance belied her abilities in his mind.

"Is it gone?" Nick asked immediately.

Warrick looked at him with concern. Nick had been doing so well in the past few weeks, had been so happy, that Warrick never for a moment considered he was worried about such a thing.

"It is," Glenda said simply. "Banished to the Shadow Land."

Warrick felt Nick relax next to him. "Greg or Hodges also mentioned something about you being at the dig on Carney Lane. Are there more?"

"There were. Did Greg or David tell you the legend of the Bibachee-Nee massacre?"

"That's what happened on the site," Warrick said.

"Yes. The remaining Bibachee-Nee were nowhere near as strong as their leader. I suspect he may have drained what little energy they had to strengthen himself. We performed a ceremony at the site, and Dr. Ramsey has said it's been peaceful ever since."

"Bibachee-Nee?" Nick frowned, stumbling over the word. "I thought it was Baichee-Nee."

Glenda smiled, "Bibachee-Nee is the group. Baichee-Nee is one."

"Oh," Nick returned the smile with sheepish one. "Umm...I don't remember much about the conversation we had that night, but...uh...the problem you had? With my...er, totem animal?"

"Yes?"

"Well, I was wondering..." Nick glanced at him for help, but Warrick wasn't sure where the question was going and had to shrug.

Glenda's smile widened, "Even if you don't believe these things, some curiosity is natural. All you have to do is ask."

Warrick tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh, and got a quick elbow for his trouble.

"What exactly was the trouble with it, though?"

"There was the strong presence of more than one animal, and no one has two totems. Well, actually, it can happen on rare occasions." Glenda went into professorial lecture mode, "When one twin dies, the survivor inherits a second totem. The same can happen if a mother dies in childbirth--which of course happened fairly regularly in the past. I knew neither was true in your case, though. What's more, the animals in your case were much too diverse to both belong to you."

"Okay," Nick looked impressed. "What was mine, then?"

"I'm surprised you haven't guessed," Glenda replied. "Why do you think we used a bluebird feather to imprison Baichee-Nee?"

"A bluebird? It...you...seriously, a bluebird?"

Warrick had never seen Nick look so completely nonplused, and he turned away to hide a smile.

Glenda didn't react to his obvious disappointment. "Yes, Nick."

"Are you sure?" Nick asked, making it impossible for Warrick to stifle a snicker. "A bluebird? That's like...what my sisters' group in Girl Scouts was called."

Warrick nearly choked.

Nick shot him a quelling look. "I mean--what was the other animal?"

"The other animal is not your totem," Glenda said, as calm and implacable as ever. "It was taking a protective stance over your totem."

"The bluebird," Nick confirmed.

"Nick, we've established that totem animals are not part of your belief system," Glenda reasoned. "So what difference would it make?"

"I guess," Nick still looked disgruntled. "But for curiosity's sake, what was the second animal?"

"Mountain Lion," Glenda said, and Nick perked up immediately. "No, Nick. It wasn't your totem." Warrick was taken aback when she looked pointedly at him.

Nick shot him a look as well. "Oh...see, you only think he's the mountain lion because of those eyes of his."

That was nice to hear. Warrick couldn't help giving Nick a pointed look of his own, amused when twin spots of color bloomed on his cheeks.

Glenda looked as though she was trying not to laugh as well. "Really, though, Nick. After meeting you, I'm more certain than ever of your totem."

"Gee, thanks," Nick's cheeks were still tinged with red.

"Bluebird as one's totem represents many things," Glenda explained. "A great capacity for happiness, modesty, but the most important quality of Bluebird is its resilience."

Nick was silent as he disgested this, and it was Warrick who mused aloud, "Resilience..."

"Despite many predators, Bluebird always survives--and thrives."

That, Warrick decided, was enough to make a believer out of him.

Warrick was surprised to see Nick still up when he returned from his shift. "I thought you'd be asleep," he said, wrapping his arms around Nick from behind and dropping a kiss on the nape of his neck.

Nick abandoned the coffee pot he was rinsing and leaned back, tilting his head to give Warrick better access. "I thought I'd better start getting into graveyard hours again. I've been up since you left, so I should be ready for bed before too long." He sighed happily as one of Warrick's hands found its way into his robe to stroke the skin of his stomach.

"What a coincidence," Warrick nuzzled behind an ear, making Nick shiver with pleasure. "I should be, too."

"That is convenient," Nick loosened Warrick's arms just enough so he could turn to face him and wrap his arms around the taller man's neck.

Warrick lowered his head to capture Nick's mouth in a deep kiss. "It's not that you had a nightmare, is it?" he murmured against Nick's cheek when they finally broke apart.

Nick sighed. "Talk about a mood-killer," he muttered, removing Warrick's hands from his waist. "No, I did not have a nightmare. I've hardly had any nightmares--you know that."

"Okay," Warrick reached for him again, but Nick took a step back. "Come on, Nicky. I just thought that after all that discussion about the legend and stuff today, it might have stirred up a few things."

Nick was just about to acknowledge that as a valid point, when Warrick added--

"Don't get your feathers all ruffled."

It could have almost been forgiven as a figure of speech, but there was no mistaking that smirk of Warrick's. "You jerk," Nick's words were belied by his wide smile.

The smirk turned into a full-fledged grin.

"Gotta wonder why I put up with you," Nick allowed himself to be pulled close again.

"Yeah?" Warrick arched an eyebrow, "Maybe this'll refresh your memory." He covered Nick's lips with his own, immediately taking advantage of Nick's soft moan to begin exploring with his tongue.

Nick was arching eagerly against him, and Warrick could feel Nick's burgeoning erection against his thigh. "Easy, baby," he murmured, dipping his head to dedicate himself to the tempting hollow of Nick's throat. He nipped lightly at the skin before he thought about it, and Nick startled against him.

Cursing him, Warrick started to pull back, but was halted by one of Nick's hands in his hair. "Please, Warrick..." he groaned, and his words were tinged with desire, not distress.

Encouraged, Warrick began untying the belt of Nick's robe with every intention of bringing Nick off as well as he could. What he hadn't counted on were Nick's fingers deftly unfastening his belt and fly. "Nicky," he whispered. "You don't have to. This is all you."

"Together," Nick whimpered frantically against his neck. "Please, Rick. I want it to be together."

Warrick didn't know anyone who could resist such a plea--he certainly couldn't. Nick didn't seem like he could wait--which was understandable considering how long it must have been for him--so Warrick just pushed his clothes aside enough to get the job done. He grasped Nick's hips and pulled the smaller made tight against him, so their straining cocks could provide mutual friction.

With a sound almost like a sob, Nick began moving against him, and Warrick matched his rhythm. Although determined not to let himself go until Nick had come, Warrick wasn't sure how long he would last, and was glad when Nick began moving faster. Nick let out a cry of pleasure and when Warrick felt a telltale warmth between their stomachs, he let himself go, pumping against Nick's body as it still jerked and shook in the last throes of release.

Warrick knew the kitchen counter was the only thing keeping them on their feet. Nick was slumped bonelessly against him, arms around his neck and face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Jesus," Nick mumbled against his skin. "That was..."

"Yeah, it was," Warrick agreed, a bit surprised by how husky his voice was.

"And it gets even better down the line, yeah?"

"You'd better believe it."

End