A few months ago, Dean would have scoffed at the idea. He'd known, after seeing his mother die when she'd promised that there were angels watching over him, that God couldn't possibly exist. That was, of course, before Joan and Billy had joined their family. Now he simply looked over at Joan as she folded clean onesies from a fresh load of laundry. "Angels?"

She shrugged. "I've been told that they exist. I'm pretty sure that they don't need to get random people to do things for them. I don't think they spend much time interacting with humans on earth at all, from what I can tell. None of this seems to fit with what I've been told."

Sam looked a little disappointed. "So what, they just hallucinated this? Both decided to use 'an angel made me do it' as their insanity plea?"

"I think we need to do more research," Dean said. "It's probably not angels, but it's definitely weird that they both are claiming an angel told them to murder someone. My money's on a demon or a spirit. So we can start by researching what the victims had in common."

They did some literal digging at the first victim's house and discovered that the man was likely a serial killer, as there were several corpses buried under the dirt floor of the man's cellar and in the recently poured concrete walls. Whatever had convinced the murderer to go after the man, it was on the right track. With that in mind, the two of them did a careful search of the house of the second victim and found a computer history that was enough to make both of them queasy.

Once they had determined that the two victims were secret scumbags they started researching any other common factors. With angels eliminated as a possibility whatever was pulling the strings would need to be somehow connected to both men. It didn't take long to tie the victims to the same church, at which point they went back to the motel and collected their secret weapon.

Sam headed for the church in question with Joan and Billy along for the ride while Dean did his best to put in an anonymous tip about the two murder victims and their undercover activities. In short order Joan had Father Reynolds talking about the recent history of the church as they gave the three of them a tour, ending at the back churchyard where there was a small mausoleum and memorial for any priests who died while staffing the church.

Joan turned just a tiny bit paler than normal at the mausoleum. "Do you mind if I stay here for a while, Father Reynolds? I think I'd like to pray for Father Gregory."

"I don't mind," the priest said. "I'm sure Thomas would appreciate the prayers. We keep this locked, though, so you'll need to come back into the church when you're ready to leave."

Joan passed Billy over to Sam. "He shouldn't be out in the cold," she said, kissing the baby's cheek. "I'll come and find you inside when I'm ready."

"Don't be slow to call if you need anything," Sam told her. He wasn't positive he knew what was happening, but she should be safe enough in a locked churchyard.

He followed the priest back into the church, stopping just before he went inside to watch as Joan settled on one of the steps of the stone mausoleum. She tilted her head at him and made a slight waving motion, and Sam disappeared into the building with his son.

xxx

Joan waited until the door into the church was shut before she began. "Father Thomas Gregory? I want to speak to you."

She clasped her gloved hands on her knees and looked up at the church, doing her best to wait patiently. She'd gotten a glimpse of the spirit when they'd stepped outside, but he'd disappeared almost immediately. Hopefully now that they were alone the dead priest would talk to her.

The figure flickered into her sight after a moment. He looked at her with curiosity. "You aren't like the others."

"I'm not."

The expression on the ghost's face was difficult for her to read. Father Gregory looked a little confused, almost lost. "I was helping people. I was doing God's will."

"We know that the two men who were killed were bad men, even though they didn't appear to be. Did they confess to you?"

The priest shook his head. "They confessed struggles, urges, but after I died, I wanted to look in on them and I found what they had been doing. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I thought once I had died I had become an angel and I was helping."

"You aren't an angel, Father Gregory," Joan said, her voice gentle. "You're a man who deserves rest."

"There's still work to do," the priest protested.

"There's work to be done," she agreed. "But that work is for the living." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the figure she knew would be there. "Do you see Him, Father Gregory?"

The pure joy and relief that filled the spirit's face chased away the cold a little. "I do!"

"You should go. Whatever you wanted done, I'm sure if you tell Him, it will be fine." It might end up being more work for her, or for the Winchester brothers, but Joan was sure that it would be handled one way or another.

The spirit of the priest reached out a hand and then vanished in a bright flash of light. Joan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then another. She glanced toward where she'd seen her Boss earlier, but there was nothing there that she could see. The cold from the concrete was seeping through the layers of skirt over leggings that she'd chosen for the day, and she could feel her hands trembling a little.

When she felt like she wouldn't give anything away to Father Reynolds she stood up a little stiffly from the steps and headed inside. Sam was looking at the stained glass window with Billy, their son watching the light shine through with clear fascination. "Ready to go?" she forced out, and he frowned at her but nodded. She reached for Billy, needing the comfort that would come from cuddling with her baby, and Sam passed him over.

He waited until they were back in the car and on the way back to the motel before asking. "What happened?"

"It was Father Gregory," she said. Her body felt tired and a little achy. Joan hoped this wasn't a cold coming in. "He thought he'd become an angel, and when he found out that the scumbags had crossed the line, he did what he could to stop it. He's crossed over now, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"Are you all right?"

"Tired," she managed. "I just want to get a shower and some sleep." Taking care of an infant was tiring enough without talking ghosts through crossing over and possibly picking up a cold along the way.

"We're almost back at the motel," Sam assured her. "We can stay the night and leave in the morning."

She stumbled through a shower and feeding Billy before crashing on the bed and falling asleep. Thankfully Billy was sleeping through the night now and she got a full night's sleep.

xxx

Dean looked across the table at Sam as Joan headed toward the restroom with Billy and the diaper bag. "Something's been rattling around in your head this whole case," he said. "Mind telling me what it is?"

"I've been praying every day for years," Sam admitted, his voice quiet. "And after Jess died and the visions started, I prayed that I would be saved. That someone would stop me from becoming like Max Miller, or something even worse."

"You know I'm watching out for you, Sammy," Dean said.

"But you're just one person." Sam tapped his fingers on the coffee cup he was cradling. "I've just felt that if I just knew that there was a higher power looking out for me, keeping me from going over the edge, that things would be so much better."

"And then you knocked up a servant of God," Dean pointed out.

"And God put her under our protection," Sam finished. "It's just a little terrifying, sometimes, when you stop and think about it. I'm so worried about her and Billy that I haven't had a vision since she started traveling with us."

Dean drank his coffee and didn't say anything further. Part of him wondered, with this new revelation, if God had made sure that Joan and Sam had met that night, almost a year ago. Nothing would work better on either one of them than having someone to protect. It was a question he would never, ever ask, though. Better not to know.