Joan always woke up slowly compared to Sam and Dean, but given that they'd both been conditioned to wake up at possible threats with a weapon in hand she refused to feel bad about it. Instead, she took her time and enjoyed the sight of her husband as he dressed and started packing. Sometimes it didn't feel real to her, like the past two and a half years had been an especially vivid dream. She had a son and a husband and an adopted brother and it was all a little overwhelming.
Billy started talking, pretty much a string of syllables that resolved into 'mamamamama' and she sighed and got out of bed. That was usually all it took to wake her up to reality. Her son was currently being potty-trained, after all, and neither Sam nor Dean was particularly good at catching him before an accident. Joan took care of the squirming toddler first and then managed her own needs. By then she was awake enough to get dressed and pack up her bag, although still not quite ready for any kind of discussion. That would have to wait until after coffee, a sentiment she knew Dean agreed with completely.
Unfortunately, for all of Sam's wonderful traits he also happened to be one of those disgusting morning people and even though he'd spent his life with Dean and the last almost two years around her he hadn't quite figured out that cheerfulness wasn't really appreciated until caffeine had been applied.
Dean's cell rang out the opening bars to 'Highway to Hell' and she paused in her packing to glare at him. He'd promised that he'd change the Order's ringtone to something a little less rude, but apparently he'd conveniently forgotten about that. Dean rolled his eyes at her as he answered the phone, for once at least a little bit politely, and she hurried with her packing and tried not to figure out what was happening by listening to his end of the conversation.
Sam came in with coffee in three tall to-go cups, read the situation with one good look, and set the carrier down on the table to help pack. Billy stayed occupied on the far bed with the bucket of toys that they'd all learned was the absolute last thing to be packed, and once Dean was done with the call he scooped up both his nephew and the toys, carrying them out to the Impala. Joan followed with her bag and Billy's diaper bag and climbed into the backseat to help hook her son into the car seat. "Where are we headed?" she asked as Dean opened up the trunk lid with a creak and he and Sam put their bags away.
"Huntington, West Virginia. A girl was murdered and left on the steps of a Catholic church. The priest thinks it's our kind of gig. We need to get there before the feds step in and make things complicated."
With coffee already provided, that was Dean-speak for 'no stopping for anything but gas' and Joan sighed and opened up the sack of fruit that she kept handy for just such an emergency. She passed an orange up to Sam, who passed a granola bar back, and she settled back into her seat with her mocha, an apple, and the granola as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the freeway.
xxx
When Rossi and Morgan walked into the priest's office, it was already fully occupied. The white-collared, graying gentleman was pointing out various points on the Huntington city map to the tall men on either side of him. A dark-haired young woman holding a toddler was perusing the bookshelf with an attentive air. She was listening to the conversation.
All heads turned the agents' way as they entered. The priest looked wary, the woman surprised. The two laymen's eyes first tracked to the concealed weapons and then to muscles. They were straightening and judging distances even as eyes flicked to their faces. A whisper of surprise and alarm appeared and disappeared in an instant.
"Son of a . . ." The shorter of the laymen (though he still topped six foot) cut off the curse as all the other occupants glared at him. Rossi was sure that the two men were also carrying guns and tried to head off any confrontations.
"FBI Agents Morgan and Rossi." Morgan had made the same observations and made no moves that could be construed as threatening.
"May I see your badges?" the taller layman asked soberly. He was exceedingly tall and well-built. The two of them looked more like bodyguards than anything else.
As they revealed the badges (and weapons) attached to their belts, the other layman jerked his head at the girl. She shook her head slowly and smirked. By the man's glower, he wasn't pleased. Rossi was surprised to note that while the woman wore a wedding ring, it was the taller one that wore the matching band, not the one who gave her silent instructions he obviously assumed she would follow.
"Father Sean Campbell?" Morgan asked.
The priest nodded but made no move to introduce his guests.
"We need to interview you concerning your discovery yesterday," Morgan continued.
"Of course."
The laymen showed no inclination to move.
"You can wait outside," Morgan said.
The shorter actually sat on the desk, even before Father Campbell said, "I'd prefer for them to stay."
"Then we're going to need introductions," Rossi replied mildly.
The shorter one indicated himself. "Dean," the tall one, "Sam," and the female, "Joan Winchester."
"And this little guy?" Morgan reached out a hand to brush the baby's cheek. Now the woman tensed and stepped away. Morgan's hand fell short of its goal, but the agent wasn't insulted. If anything, he approved of her caution.
"That's Billy," Dean said.
Rossi turned the conversation to the case at hand. "Were you here when Father Campbell discovered Melissa Bird?"
"Nope," Dean answered.
At the same time, Sam said, "No. We just drove in from Minnesota." Dean eyed Sam, presumably his brother, and seemed to come to an extended understanding.
Dean stood, adjusted the leather jacket he was wearing, and announced, "Come on, Joanie. Billy could use some fresh air."
Joan looked to her husband and he offered her a miniscule nod in confirmation. Then she let Dean edge past her and followed him out the door, always keeping Dean between the agents and her child.
Rossi debated sending Morgan after them, but if they were telling the truth, they couldn't help the profile. There was just something about them – besides the fact that they were armed while under the roof of a church – that alarmed the FBI agent. He shook his head and refocused on the case.
"Father Campbell," Rossi began. "Please tell me everything you can about yesterday morning."
The priest met Rossi's eyes long enough to reveal true mourning. Then he composed his features and folded his hands together. "Since I've heard about young Kaylee Adkins, I've been waking early to ensure it didn't happen here, but Sunday . . .I checked at four a.m. and the steps were clear. When I returned to open the door at five for early mass, Ms. Bird was laying on the steps."
The news coverage of Kaylee Adkins had been excessive, but in this case, it helped them. Father Campbell had just given them a time frame to work from.
"Was she face up?" Morgan asked.
Campbell nodded decisively. "I could see . . .the cut on her throat."
"Did you touch her?" the younger agent continued. Rossi regulated himself to the role of observer.
Campbell nodded again. "I checked her wrist for a pulse . . .just in case, but her . . .wound had stopped bleeding. I called the police from directly inside the foyer."
"So you kept an eye on Melissa the whole time?"
"As much as I could. I looked away to dial 911 and I noticed the leftover roll of streamer from the wedding on Saturday. I used that to cordon off the steps and waited outside with Ms Bird for the police to arrive. I wanted to put a sheet or tablecloth over her body to protect her from morbid curiosity, but the dispatcher stressed the importance of leaving everything as I had found it." The priest hid it well, but his distress at the incident was apparent to both profilers. Sam Winchester seemed to sense it as well and rested one hand on the older man's stooped shoulder.
"Did you notice anyone unusual in the neighborhood in the past day or two? Any strange cars, new people?"
"Marshall University just started the spring semester session. We've seen several newcomers in the past week or so, but nothing that stands out. We're not really a college town, but there's a definite uptick in attendance at the beginning of the semester."
"Are there any problems with a member of the congregation?"
The priest shook his head. "Nothing of consequence. These are good people."
Rossi stepped in. "That may be so. We still need a list of church members."
The priest immediately opened his mouth to protest, but Winchester held up a hand. "Do it," he said. "Because Melissa was found outside the church and the other two girls were found at two different churches, chances are good that this is not a member of any church. Or at least a current member," he corrected himself. "They need the list to mark off suspects."
Rossi raised an eyebrow. That was a concise –and accurate - basic profile application. "What is your educational background, Mr. Winchester?"
"History, with an emphasis on law."
"How far have you progressed?"
"Far enough that I'm moving forward to law school this fall."
"I don't suppose I could talk you into investigating psychology?"
"No. You can't talk me into anything." As if he realized how harsh that sounded, Winchester smiled. "Not even my family can. Is there anything else?"
There wasn't, but Rossi wanted to probe a bit more. Something was off about this situation.
Father Campbell wanted to diffuse the growing tension. "I'm afraid that I can't access the actual member list at the moment, but the secretary will be in," he glanced at the clock, "in an hour. I'll have her deliver the list first thing."
Morgan held out his hand. "We appreciate that. Thank you for your time. Please stay around here in case we come up with new questions."
"Of course, of course. I will be available for all in the coming days." He hesitated for a moment. "When will we be allowed to have services again?"
Rossi noted that Winchester didn't offer the same promise of availability. "By the end of next week, possibly sooner. We'll let you know."
He and Morgan shook the priest's hand and performed the same ritual with Winchester before heading out. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other two standing in the sanctuary and watching as they left.
"That was weird," Morgan said once they were safely out of earshot. "I'll get Garcia to look into it."
xxx
"Talk to me, baby girl," Derek Morgan said into the speakerphone. "I need background on three people: Sam, Dean and Joan Winchester. Can you find anything?"
Reid's head jerked at the name list. "Start with the FBI's most wanted, past, Garcia. I believe the Winchester brothers were taken off it quietly. I have no idea why they would be in a church talking to a priest. They never ran any of those kinds of cons."
Garcia's cheerful voice answered back almost immediately. "So genius boy is right; Dean Winchester used to be the hottest member of FBI's most wanted."
"Used to?" Prentiss echoed.
"This is where it gets really weird, as if anyone thinking a hottie like him could skin and murder girls wasn't weird and wrong."
"Garcia," Hotch said sternly.
"So," the profilers could hear her chagrin over the line. "They were wanted for questioning for a variety of crimes, including breaking and entering, credit card fraud, grave desecration and a bunch of suspicious deaths. And they've been pardoned for the petty stuff. Like all gone, if I hadn't been looking where Reid said to, I'd've never found this stuff. All charges were dropped for the serious. The lead FBI agent on the case went to the higher ups and pointed out that most of the evidence was circumstantial and conflicting, and they were not even in the same state in some cases. And with the loads and loads of character witnesses swearing up and down that the Winchesters saved their lives instead of threatening them, the Vatican lawyer had no problem getting their charges thrown out. Then they paid all the fraudulent credit card charges."
Rossi blinked. "Did you say 'Vatican'?"
"Why yes, yes I did. And all court costs were ultimately paid for by the Vatican. And that's what I had found first."
"Why would the Church defend men like that?" Rossi asked.
"Maybe for the same reason they now pay them twice a month for services rendered, plus expenses, though I couldn't tell you exactly what the reason is. Expenses will probably include the gas that was bought on their way from Minnesota, as well as the motel room they all shared. That alibi is as confirmed as I can get it without photographic evidence. The Impala they drive must be a gas hog."
The concept was so far outside of any normal profile of the Winchesters that they absorbed the facts in silence.
Finally Spencer asked, "What do they do for the Church?"
"No idea. It's not on-line. I'm going to have to find someone who does know."
"Sam and Dean," Morgan clarified, "Both of them are employed by the Church?"
"Sam, Dean, and Joan," Garcia corrected. "I'm not sure what it means, but Joan gets paid more than the boys. It's not an eye-popping amount, the Church is pretty cheap, but it's definitely enough to keep them all alive. They all paid their taxes for last year, which is how I stumbled onto that info. They also get full coverage for health insurance and Sam's getting assistance for university classes. All of them have ended up in the hospital recently, for various injuries. I will call back as soon as I have more information."
Garcia disconnected the call and the team went on with the case, with Rossi and Morgan sharing what they'd learned from the priest. Reid and Prentiss had been in the city's small medical examiner's office, learning that there was no indication of sexual assault in any of the victims, but that all three of the victims showed signs of being subdued through physical force and restrained prior their throats being cut. The examiner also pointed out that the fatal blow had been delivered in an almost professional manner, with the head being pushed forward rather than pulled back and the attacker standing behind the victim and the knife moving from left to right in one smooth motion. The only real flaw was that the weapon used clearly had a dull blade, given how the wound was made, which meant that excessive force was needed for the killing stroke.
"So the unsub is physically very strong, but either incapable of or unwilling to try luring victims in using a ruse, but is still organized enough to make a clean kill and leave no real forensic evidence." Hotch studied the photos on the board. "Victimology isn't narrowed down by any obvious physical factors, other than the fact that they were all women in college. We need to dig a little more deeply into these women's lives. There must be something that they all have in common."
JJ and Rossi went out to interview Melissa Bird's live-in boyfriend, Emily and Morgan to speak to Kaylee Adkins' housemates, and Hotch left Reid with a stack of local records to speak to the family of Jessica Buchanan. They had all returned and started comparing notes when Garcia called back with an update.
"Mixed news, my lovelies. I've been on the phone with representatives of the Roman Catholic church, and my Italian isn't good. And when I started asking questions at the US payroll office, they transferred me to an Italian office somewhere in Rome. So I countered by getting Kevin in here to translate for me. He's not horrible at it but the bishop I was talking to wasn't trying to be understood."
"Did you get any kind of explanation?" Hotch asked.
"Trouble shooters. And that's about all we understood. I . . .ah . . .tried to investigate through other means, but for a stodgy, prudish, out-dated institution, they have some top-notch, sophisticated firewalls." She thought for a moment. "Or they never put information like that into any server. It's probably in some musty old book."
"Good job, Garcia," Hotch finally said. "Bringing in Lynch."
"Thank you, sir," chirped the computer tech. "I still have the contact number if Emily wants to try her luck."
"Maybe later," said Hotch. "Did they by chance tell you what the Winchesters were doing in town?"
"Nope. Just got something vague about them going where needed and that Father Campbell had requested help. There was a reference given for a priest in Chicago, but I haven't been able to reach him yet."
Morgan looked around the conference room to see if anyone had any more questions. No one did, so he said, "Talk to you later, sweetheart."
"Ciao." Then all they heard was the dial tone. Morgan closed his cell phone and pocketed it.
"I don't think anyone could be less priest-like than Dean Winchester," Emily mused.
"Why would the Vatican need troubleshooters? Why would they have troubleshooters? And why these three?" Morgan asked.
"The only obvious trouble in the area would be our case," JJ answered.
"The Church?" Spencer was flabbergasted, "Searching for a murderer?"
Rossi was just as dismissive. "That's ridiculous. They have neither the training nor the experience for something like this. And they get paid? Presumably, they have to show some results to continue being such an unorthodox part of the Church."
Hotch didn't care. "As interesting as this is, for now let's concentrate on what we know about the case. The Winchesters have an alibi. Until we have something that connects them more directly to this case, we need to work on developing our profile of the killer."
xxx
After three days, they didn't have any leads as to the serial killer and the Winchesters seemed to have vanished once they'd left Father Campbell's church. Oh, they had been in the same areas as the FBI agents, but no one knew where they were staying. Garcia was impressed that she couldn't find their phone numbers. So it was a complete surprise to realize that the brothers had talked their way into the morgue and gotten caught. Not technically illegal per se but enough to bump them up on the 'Person of Interest' list, and definitely enough to bring them straight upstairs for questioning. At this point, there was little doubt that the three of them knew something, probably some small detail that was going to open things up completely.
In light of their reappearance, Morgan evaluated his interactions with the mysterious trio. "A female would get more out of Dean. Prentiss?"
"I'll see what I can find out," she promised.
"I'll talk to Sam," Rossi offered. "I rub him the wrong way for some reason."
Hotch nodded. "Reid, you try to get Joan to talk when comes to get them out. You're the least intimidating. The rest of us have real leads to follow."
xxx
"Mr. Winchester."
"Agent Rossi." Sam's face didn't invite conversation or any friendliness. He kept searching Rossi's face dispassionately, but otherwise showed no signs of anxiety.
"Any particular reason you and your brother decided to interfere in a federal investigation?" Rossi went directly to the point. They knew that none of the Winchesters had been involved in the actual murders; the Minnesota alibi was solid; Garcia had found various security camera recordings on their way. This little appearance in the morgue confirmed that they knew more than they were saying, however, and right now the police were hurting for information. Every little bit helped.
"We were administering a rite of the Church," Sam said without batting an eye.
Rossi didn't react, but that was only due to years of practice at self-control. That was definitely a new and unexpected excuse. "You're awfully young and married to be a Catholic priest."
Winchester looked at him, an oddly antagonistic expression on his face. "I'm not a priest, but I have permission to administer certain rites of the Church."
"Such as?"
"That information is a privilege of the Church." The young man managed to both glare and be dismissive at the same time. "It's not something I can tell you."
Rossi leaned in closer and cataloged the lightning-quick discomfort that crossed Winchester's features. "You don't seem to like me much."
That made Sam smile. "If you don't know why, your background check didn't go far enough."
"Then why don't you enlighten me?"
Sam Winchester studied him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "You remind me of my father-in-law. We don't exactly get along."
"I find that hard to believe." Rossi had seen plenty of evidence of the young man's charm. It could be the nomadic lifestyle that had the odd family unit driving through, non-stop, to a different city in a different state at a single phone call. Such a thing would put a strain on extended family relations.
Winchester was irritated enough to reveal personal information. "That I don't get along with the man who abandoned his daughter when she told him she was pregnant? Or that he doesn't like the punk who knocked up his daughter in the first place and didn't marry her for two more years?" Sam leaned forward in his chair. "Are you done wasting my time? I have things to do."
xxx
Emily settled down in the chair across from the elder Winchester. "So, what brings you to Huntington?"
"I heard the hot dogs here are awesome." His body language was deliberately relaxed but clearly not open. "It seemed like a decent place to stop for a few days. Nice town, if you ignore these murders."
Emily smiled slightly and leaned forward a tiny bit. Nothing too overt, just enough flirting to build up a bit of connection. "That seems like some horrible luck. Do all of your trips end up like this?"
Dean snorted out a laugh. "You'd be surprised."
"I'm sure I would be," she said. "So how did you go from trying out the hot dogs to ending up in the morgue?"
"Nice transition," Dean said, smirking at her and leaned back in his chair. "Very smooth."
"You seemed like the kind of guy who'd want to get straight to the point, and the point is that we know you aren't the killer. But you know something and you're interfering with our investigation."
"My father was a Marine. My brother is working on his law degree, and my sister-in-law was majoring in Criminal Justice. Lady, I know better than to tell you anything, no matter how hot you are."
xxx
Spencer Reid was watching the concurrent interviews the way some people watched a tennis match, clearly interested in the proceedings. "Two very different methods of dealing with interrogation," he observed.
"Tailored to the audience?" Hotch suggested. Sam had given just enough information to get Rossi to back off and Emily was charmed enough to be diverted.
"It does play to their individual strengths," Reid agreed.
A local cop poked her head into the observation room. "Mrs. Winchester is here as you expected. Where do you want her?"
"A break room, somewhere private but informal," Hotch requested.
Spencer knew where Hotch was leading. "Statistically, women have a tendency to talk more. Especially among friends."
Hotch nodded. "Stick to the plan. Take Morgan and try Mrs. Winchester."
xxx
The young woman wasn't as nervous as he would have expected, though she kept her son close as they escorted her through the police station. She seemed aware enough to stay out of everyone's way and to keep her son from wandering into trouble. Morgan had gone ahead to clear out the modest break room and the last of the officers cleared out as Spencer lead her inside.
She refused the offer of coffee, wrinkling her nose slightly, but accepted water with a grateful smile. "I learned my lesson about police station coffee a long time ago," she said as Spencer settled down across from her at a table with Billy babbling as he played with a plastic car at her feet. "My dad took his own, or he drank water."
"Your father's a police officer?" They hadn't really had cause to dig into Joan Winchester's life, but Reid couldn't help but be interested.
Joan nodded. "Pretty much my whole life. He's had a hard time accepting Sam because of it, I think."
"Sam mentioned a bit of friction between the two," Spencer said casually.
Joan smiled ruefully. "Please tell me you don't have Agent Rossi questioning him?"
"Guilty as charged."
"Oh, no."
"Does your father know about Sam and Dean's past?"
"He knows about the charges, of course, but since none of them were really valid there wasn't much he could say."
"And what would he have to say about the two of them breaking into the morgue?" Morgan asked.
Joan tensed and shook her head. "He hasn't really had the right to tell me what to do in a long time. And for the record, my husband and his brother were administering a rite of the church and needed to be in that morgue."
"What could they have possibly been doing that Father Campbell couldn't have done?"
"It's something that the church keeps private for the sake of the families. I'm sure Sam and Dean have both been telling you this and you are not listening," she said, her tone creeping into frustrated. "We're not hiding anything about your case. We weren't even in the state until after the third murder."
"We know you weren't involved. Our team confirmed your alibi. But I think you know something, something that can help us solve the case and stop the murders." Reid quirked a smile at her.
"None of us know anything you could take to court," the young woman said carefully, her hand coming to rest on the head of the toddler playing at her feet. The protective gesture and precise wording did not go unnoticed. "You need to let Sam and Dean go. None of us know anything that could help you arrest someone."
"So you do know something, then."
She opened her mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut and turned to look towards the door, her face paling. Morgan followed her gaze through the glass, trying to find what had obviously spooked her, but could find nothing out of the ordinary. She reached down and scooped up her son, placing a quick kiss on one chubby cheek before delivering him into a surprised Morgan's arms. "Take him to Sam," she said before standing up and hurrying away.
It was a testament to how long they'd worked together that he and Reid didn't have to say anything. Morgan passed the baby over to Reid and reached for his weapon before the two of them followed the young woman towards the door. Morgan went through the door while Reid stayed behind the glass and watched carefully, his free hand fumbling for his phone so he could call in backup.
Morgan didn't go far. Joan Winchester was standing in the mostly empty parking lot, facing a woman who was wearing the lanyard of a community volunteer. The woman had a sneer on her face, but her eyes were frightened as she spewed out a series of insults and profanities. "Stop speaking," Joan said, her tone more commanding than anything they'd heard from the young woman. The stream of speech stopped instantly, and the woman glared at Joan. "Answer my questions. No editorial comments. Did you kill those girls?"
"Yes," the stranger said, her voice grating. Morgan glanced back at Reid, who was watching the scene with fascination. What the hell was going on here?
"Why?"
The woman shrugged. "Why not? It terrified all the good little church folk. And it was so much fun, too."
Joan nodded absently and shifted her balance. "Leave this woman now and go straight back to Hell. Stay there."
Morgan was preparing to intervene, hopefully without putting anyone at risk, when the volunteer's head snapped back. A cloud of black smoke poured out of her mouth before sinking into the ground, and the woman dropped like dead weight onto the asphalt. Joan Winchester dropped to her knees a second later, leaned forward on her hands, and threw up.
Morgan had his cell phone out and was calling for help before he made it to the side of the unknown woman who was, apparently, their unsub. Reid went through the door and dropped down next to Joan, kneeling next to her as she retched. "What happened?"
She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide. "I told you to take him to Sam! He's not safe out here!" With that she was pushing her body upright, swaying a little and reaching for her son, still cradled in Reid's arms. The boy hadn't fussed at being in the arms of a stranger, oddly intent for his age and contradictory to the normal child reaction to the genius. Now though, he was eager to be returned to his mother.
Spencer held onto the child with one arm and reached for Joan with the other. "Why don't we go inside?" His mind was frantically connecting pieces, pulling together the things he'd read in the Winchester file and adding them to what he'd just observed. He needed to find out what was going on. What he had just witnessed should be fiction. It shouldn't have been possible. It should have been a trick of light, but Spencer couldn't lie to himself.
The impossible had happened. It was obviously possible.
Something had been inside the woman and no longer was. That something had confessed to killing the BAU's victims. Joan had admitted that her inside information wasn't something that could be taken to court. Even the BAU couldn't say that a black cloud had been controlling the UnSub. Spencer's mind whirled through the facts as he now knew them. He remembered the one interview of Dean Winchester on tape; he had claimed that something supernatural –a ghost- had killed people. Something supernatural had killed people here. Dean had been accused of killing people that Spencer highly suspected that a ghost really had killed. A Vatican lawyer had made those charges disappear. "The Holy Roman Catholic Church knows about that the supernatural is real?" he blurted out. "It's really real. And they use you and the Winchesters to counter it."
Joan nodded, which Spencer took as agreement, and pushed her body up into a standing position. He had to nearly carry the young woman inside since Morgan was still kneeling next to the unsub and administering chest compressions. A struggle but once she had some distance and walls between her family and the unsub, she seemed to calm enough to support her own weight. Reid was still processing what he had seen and lining up the questions he needed to ask.
"You can't tell the rest of your team," Joan croaked. She was trembling and Billy looked like he was on the verge of bursting into the kind of wailing shrieks Reid had come to expect from very small children, but her expression was determined. "This kind of thing can't be shared.'
"Why not? Don't people deserve the truth?" Reid knew the answer to that, of course. Something like this would cause panic and attacks on anyone that didn't fit the local definitions of normal. It was one of the reasons they didn't report on foiled terrorist attacks. But he wanted to know what Joan's response would be.
"People deserve the truth," she said. "But they need or want the whole truth. Anything that isn't a complete truth only helps the other side of thing." Reid handed her a bottle of water from the breakroom fridge, cracking it open in front of her beforehand, and she rinsed out her mouth and spat into the nearby trash can before sipping gratefully. "Plus people are panicky idiots sometimes, with a terrible track record when something they don't understand happens."
"And what did you just do out there?" Reid watched her closely. "Can anyone just do that?"
Joan rubbed circles on her son's back, calming him down as she calmed down. "Do you believe in God, Dr. Reid?"
The question gave him pause, since he'd never really thought about it. His mother was a pretty staunch atheist and he hadn't ever attended a church when he was a kid. Gideon had been dismissive about the concept of God, for all that he held very strict ideas about the existence of good and evil. And Spencer found that the idea made him uncomfortable.
She was watching him just as carefully as he had been earlier and must have read something on his face. "Sam and Dean have to use a formal exorcism ritual. Most people who know about demons need to use that. It gives them a safety net, because it's a lot easier to depend on a proven ritual than your own faith."
He probably should have felt insulted at the idea of taking an easier method, but the way Joan had explained it just made him feel relief. "It's about faith?"
"If you don't have absolute faith that God will see it done, it won't work at all." She smiled, but it was a little sad. "If you want I can have someone send you some books on it. They should include an exorcism ritual."
Spencer nodded. "Does this mean that the woman in the parking lot is going to go to prison for something she couldn't prevent?"
Joan grimaced. "Probably not, because demons treat the people they've taken like some people treat rental cars. Most of the time they don't survive for long once the demon is gone, if they're even still alive at all. Her reputation will be ruined, but the demon has probably already done that as well. There's nothing we can do about it."
"Morgan's going to have questions," he warned.
"He might have questions, but they probably won't be the same as yours." Joan seemed more settled in her skin now, her son burying his face into her shoulder, but she also seemed resigned. "There's a good chance that he's already rationalizing what he's seen, telling himself that it was a trick of the light, that he was tired. He'll want to know how I noticed that the community volunteer was different, what I did and said to make her slip up and confess. On the cameras it will just look like she collapsed."
"We're trained to be observant and objective," Reid protested.
"Dr. Reid, I've had people who had just been possessed pretend that they were fine and had just tripped over a curb. There are a lot of people who want to keep this side of things quiet, and some of them are normal people who will swear that they have absolutely, one hundred percent never seen anything at all weird even when they're standing directly over it." She shrugged, shifting the toddler in her arms to something more comfortable. "I don't know Agent Morgan. I could be wrong. But the reason Sam and Dean ended up accused of so many things is because people generally prefer the rational, logical explanation over something that entirely rewrites the way they see the world."
The door into the break room flew open and Sam Winchester thundered into the room, dropping down to his knees next to his wife. His brother was right behind him, but he stayed in the doorway, looking out into the police station with a wariness that bordered on paranoia.
"Did it find you?"
Joan shook her head. "I think it was just here to wriggle around in the chaos a little. It's taken care of now. We can let Father Campbell know it's safe, and he can put the word out to the other churches in the area." She leaned into her husband and loosened her grip on her son, who promptly wiggled free and headed for his uncle. "I could really use a shower and a nap and a cup of tea, Sam. I feel icky. Demons are so gross to be around."
"We'll take care of that." Sam looked over his wife's head at Spencer, and Spencer looked back with as much calm as he could gather considering recent revelations. He had stared down Jason Gideon and serial killers alike, so despite how surprisingly intense Sam was compared to his wife he wasn't intimidated. "What about Agent Reid?"
Joan waved her hand in his direction, not looking up. "Dr. Reid saw everything and is actually accepting what he saw. I think we should introduce him to Bobby and call it a day."
"I just have a lot of questions," Spencer began. Dean Winchester snorted from the door, his nephew in one arm while he kept an eye on the chaos in the station. The child was chatting up a storm, which was strange because Spencer hadn't heard a word from him until now.
"Yeah, your wife called it. Don't worry dude, we'll hook you up. Anyone else?"
"Agent Morgan saw it. He's staying with the woman who was possessed. I don't know which way he'll go." She glanced up at her brother-in-law and son. "Billy feels safe enough to talk around Spencer, so that says a few good things."
In the end it went almost exactly how Joan Winchester had predicted it would, although Spencer didn't think that knowledge made her happy. Morgan went with the woman who had been possessed to the hospital, where she died a couple of hours later without regaining consciousness. By the time he came back, the Winchesters had been allowed to leave for the night with the promise that they would be available for any further questions. When the family came back in the next morning, Morgan's questions were in line with what a normal investigator would ask. Mrs. Winchester answered them calmly and almost completely, telling them that she was always keeping an eye on her surroundings and the behavior of the people around her when she was out with Billy. The volunteer seemed a little too smug and happy about the tense atmosphere at the station.
When asked why she had followed the woman and confronted her, Joan had replied that she was hoping to delay things so that someone could follow her and hopefully notice what she had noticed and do something about it. There was absolutely no evidence beyond the observations of an untrained civilian, and she didn't think she would be believed if she told the two of them that the other woman was somehow involved. As for the confession, all she did was use her mom voice. That it worked was completely unexpected.
It was a fascinating bundle of truth and misdirection when you knew what had really happened, and Spencer was disappointed that Morgan seemed to take it and go forward with it. Then the case was wrapped up and they were heading back home, Spencer with several new numbers packed into his phone.
The puzzle of the Winchester family was brought up once more on the plane. Garcia had done a little more background on Joan Winchester, formerly Joan Girardi, and they had finally figured out the weird reactions to David Rossi. Apparently, Rossi and Will Girardi were second cousins with a very similar appearance. After that, they went on to the next case and there were no further mentions of the Winchesters.
xxx
Spencer called her two weeks later, when they were on their way from Maine to Northern Virginia. "Something's come up," he started once he'd stumbled through a couple of awkward pleasantries. "What does an official Church exorcism look like?"
Joan knew this answer, because she had asked Father Forthill after her second exorcism, and she also knew that Dean's description of 'a fucking mess' during that conversation wouldn't help the situation. "Bad," she finally said. "The priests who are in charge of that convinced themselves that it's a battle between their will and the demon. And if they've decided that someone is possessed, nothing can change their minds on it. Usually, the people that they're exorcising die of exhaustion or dehydration."
"And there's no way to check to see if someone is possessed?"
"Holy water burns the skin like hydrochloric acid," Joan answered promptly. "Can't cross a line of salt. Eyes turn black or red at the name of Christ in Latin. If a person doesn't react to any of these, then they're not possessed." She was going to leave off the concept of high-level demons because that didn't seem like something to get into on the phone. With any luck it would never come up at all, since those demons had a hard time getting to the surface.
"So why don't they use those?"
Joan bit her lip. She had never met anyone from that part of the Church, but she was pretty sure that the answer to Spencer's question was arrogance. But it was one thing to grumble about the priests who were the old-school exorcists to her family or even Father Forthill and something completely different and possibly a little dangerous towards her relationship with the Order to complain it to someone outside of the circle. "There's a belief that more powerful demons won't react to those things." It was technically true, and also the most diplomatic that she could be about the situation. "What happened on your end?"
Spencer was quiet for a second, and when he did speak he sounded miserable. "An old friend of Agent Prentiss died and there's a possibility it was because of an exorcism, but that didn't make sense from what I'd seen with you. Do you think he was actually possessed?"
"There's no way for anyone to be sure now. Demons usually aren't very subtle long-term unless there's a long-term goal or mission involved, so usually when someone gets possessed its either short-term for the chaos, like in Huntington, or someone in a position of influence or power."
"Thanks for letting me know." He was still on the line, but so quiet that Joan started to get a little worried. "I really hate not being able to talk about this with my team, but I'm pretty sure other than Agent Rossi they would all react like Morgan."
"I couldn't tell my father," Joan confessed. The car was quiet around her, Sam and Dean listening more closely now. "I tried to tell him some of it when I was in high school and he didn't believe me. I know how much it can hurt sometimes. But you've got me to talk to, at least. Have you had time to talk to Bobby Singer?"
"We've been emailing back and forth," Spencer said. "He knows where to find all sorts of interesting books about this."
"Bobby is one of the best experts outside of the Church when it comes to demons. Well, demons, and also almost everything else. He'll act really gruff about it, but he loves teaching people about the supernatural."
Spencer was quiet again, and she could hear pages rustling on his end of the phone. "I was kidnapped by someone with DID once. One of the alters claimed to be the archangel Raphael. Is . . .is that possible?"
"I don't know much about that, Spencer, other than that angels do exist. What I do know is that angels tend to be more subtle when they act, and usually when they do need to do something less subtle its going to be big."
"But they exist."
"They exist. They do act in our current world, sometimes. Other than that, its not something I've needed to wonder about." She was absolutely leaving out what they'd learned from the yellow-eyed demon when Billy was just a baby. They'd apparently thwarted that entire mess and it wasn't something she wanted to think about even now.
"You're not entirely alone, Spencer. You can talk to me, or Sam, or Dean, or Bobby. I know its hard when the people you're around don't believe, or can't believe, but you can talk to all of us."
"I'll have to make that be enough, for now."
Joan tucked her phone away as Spencer disconnected the call on his end, frowning a little. She wished there was something she could do to help Spencer adjust to his new reality, but right now all she could do was talk to him when he called.