Fate is an Engineer, Part III: Methods
A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

Chapters: 3 of 5
Rating: Adult17+
Word Count: 40,864 total; 6,329 this chapter
See Parts I and V for Author's Notes and Credits.

Part III: Methods

Now it was Paul's turn to look shocked. "How did you know his name?"

"'How did you know his name?'" Evie imitated in a funny, mocking voice. "I can't believe you're being so casual about this. Paul, Alva has a really thick file on Dean Winchester's entire family. I just updated it last week. Gave me the most annoying headache. There are pictures of all of them in the file. Sam Winchester rejoined the fold late last year and they've been really active since. He told you his real name?"

Paul sheepishly replied, "Sort of."

"Uh huh," Evie said knowingly. "You can't count that guy's aliases on both hands. John Bonham, James Hetfield, Kevin Dubrow, Bruce Dickinson - "

Paul started to laugh. "That's really clever."

Evie smacked his arm. "Would you get serious? His file is labeled 'Heavily Armed and Dangerous,' Paul! What is he doing here?"

Dean had to grin; his reputation preceded him. But how did this Keel guy know so much about his family, goddamn it? He had pictures? Dean knew he had to keep a rein on his anger for now, or he'd never find these things out. And it was important that he know how Keel could get so much information on the Winchester family to create a "really thick file."

Paul laughed again. "Oh Evie, you're overreacting. Dean's a..." He was about to say, "pussycat," but then he recalled the way Dean suddenly turned mean and grabbed his shirt threateningly, the rock salt gun, and the general aggression with which he approached life. "...decent guy," he finally finished. "He wouldn't hurt us."

"Oh?" Crossing her arms, Evie raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. "Then why is it that he's suspected of murder out of St. Louis, where he's listed as deceased?"

Paul's eyes went their widest in reaction, and he gaped in surprise, eventually able to croak, "What?"

This is when Dean opened the door, feeling his time to step in was now or never. "That wasn't me," he tried to explain.

Paul and Evie both took a wary step back.

Dean immediately continued in a discreet tone of voice, "That was a shapeshifter. It made itself look like me to fool my brother. I shot and killed it. How else could I be dead in St. Louis and here with you now?"

Paul reached out to poke Dean's chest. "You see him too, Evie?" Paul asked, needing her reassurance that he had not just spent the night with a dead man.

Rolling his eyes, Dean smacked Paul's hand down. "I am not a ghost. It was the shapeshifter!" he said in frustration.

"Alright, Mr. Winchester, let's say I accept your explanation. Tell me, what are you doing here in Paul's apartment, and what happened to his hands?" Evie demanded to know.

Paul grew embarrassed at the idea that his sex life could be discussed here, with Evie, of all people. "Uh, let's go inside."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Paul," Evie said. "It could be dangerous to be alone with him."

Dean openly showed more frustration, nearly stomping his feet. "It was the shapeshifter," he said through gritted teeth.

For his own part, Paul just got sarcastic. "Is it okay with you if I go inside my own apartment and at least put on a shirt? Dean is not going to hurt us." He held up one of his hands, and continued so softly he was almost whispering, "I did this to myself."

Evie, looking troubled over that revelation, finally relented and entered the apartment. She rarely took her eyes off Dean. Once the door was closed, Paul began to explain his injuries. "After Keel brought me home last night, I was pretty upset, as you can imagine. I was so angry at this creature for thinking it could use me for whatever whim came into its head that I needed to take my anger out on something. The coffee table got the worst of it." He pointed at the busted table with the bloody knuckle prints on one corner. "I only wish it could have been the Mothman."

"Did it at least make you feel better?" Evie asked, her eyes troubled and sympathetic for him.

Paul, scoffing and laughing a little, replied, "Not really, no, that's why I went out to the bar where I ran into Dean. If I couldn't beat my personal BS out of me, maybe I could drink to forget it." He laughed lightly again, scratching absently at one eyebrow. "I think Dean had a similar idea."

"I just needed a beer to unwind," Dean amended. "No drunkie for me until Sam is safe."

"Dean and I started talking, and that's when Tommy showed up."

Astounded, Evie repeated the boy's name. "Tommy? But you said he moved on."

"I believe he did, Evie. Tommy looked a lot better, not all sick and pale. But he's come back for some reason. Maybe just to help with this. Anyway, that's how Dean and I met." Paul gestured in Dean's direction.

Still wary of him, Evie wondered to herself if this whole thing was a setup, if Dean had anything to do with Tommy's return. The Winchesters knew a great deal about all forms of Magick, including Black - maybe Dean was using Tommy to manipulate Paul somehow. Evie asked, "The missing person we're all looking for... it's your brother, Sam?"

Dean nodded.

Even if he had done something to bring Tommy's spirit back, it seemed like he did it for good reasons, if it was to find his brother. Still... "What happened to him?"

Dean repeated the whole story for her. "...Sam doesn't even have any shoes on. And he didn't take his cell phone. That's really weird for him. Something really wrong happened. We gotta find him. I'll follow any lead you've got."

"Sounds like it, if you'll drive to Boston on a phone call from a stranger," Evie remarked.

"Babe, I had nothing until I got that call. It worked." He grinned at Paul. "Tommy told him we'd receive word that would help us locate Sammy."

Evie could plainly see the love Dean felt for his brother written all over his face, but it was so hard to let go of the wary mother hen stance she'd adopted when she realized who he was. Perhaps a little more interrogation would settle her mind. "I'm sorry, but this whole thing still seems a little too engineered. Like someone planned it all out and we're just players in the drama. I'm not going to feel better about your presence here, Mr. Winchester, until I get a few more questions answered."

"Hey, as long as you're going to be a smarmy bitch to me, you might as well call me Dean."

Paul glared at him with disapproval. "Dean... nuh uh."

"Sorry," Dean said. Then he added to Evie, "I'm sorry, your Smarminess."

Evie just smiled back icily. "Alright, Dean, tell me this... if everything here's on the up and up, then why do you and Paul have matching head injuries?" She pointed to her forehead. "'Cause I'm picturing a headbutt sometime in the last few hours."

Paul looked as if he didn't want to answer that question, but Dean just laughed. "Yeah, sure, because mine's an actual scratch, and Paul's got such a sharp forehead."

"Evie..." Paul sighed. "I'm not sure I wanted to tell anyone about this yet. Can you just trust me when I say that it's totally unrelated to Dean and that he didn't do it?"

Her response was immediate. "Heck no."

Although the chick had been riding his ass, Dean couldn't help but chuckle at that. She had spunk.

"You're no help," Paul said to him. With another sigh, he started to explain. "Alright, you want to know what else has been going on in the land of Paul? Yesterday, the ghost of Keel's mother showed up in my apartment. Vivian Keel."

Gaping in shock, Evie exclaimed, "Are you serious?"

"Definitely. This morning, Dean and I were awakened by Mrs. Keel having a fit in my bedroom. She was throwing things all over." He gestured to the forming bruise on his forehead. "This was done by a jar of pennies."

Dean touched his eyebrow. "Heavy pencil holder made of metal."

"Oh." Evie had no idea how to deal with this; could they even tell Alva? How would it make her feel if it had been her dead father throwing the tantrum in Paul's bedroom? Jesus. "Was it at all clear why she was freaking out?"

"This is the worst part. Most of the things she said just didn't make sense. The woman sounded like a lunatic," Paul said with a cringe.

"Can you recall any of it?"

"She kept saying 'why wasn't I enough?'. Mrs. Keel seemed to be talking about her husband, and how he didn't appreciate all the things she did for him and 'the children.' She was pretty upset with men in general, which I guess is why Dean and I got the worst of it. Also said something about doing disgusting things in the bedroom for her husband's sake, and how that wasn't enough for him either. He had 'an album full of whores,' whatever that means." Paul shrugged.

"He cheated," Evie and Dean said together, then glared at each other. Matters of romance were something they both knew a great deal about, although from different perspectives.

Dean allowed Evie to continue. "As I was saying, Dr. Keel cheated. Think about what she said, Paul. Why wasn't she enough? Why did he turn to other women?"

"So why take it out on me?" Paul complained.

"Because you're close to Alva, and you can see her. Basically, Mrs. Keel is climbing the mountain because it's there." Evie folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. "Poor woman just wants an audience for her pain."

"Poor woman?" cried Paul. "She bowled me over and screamed in my face, Evie. Something about Dr. Keel's secret, a 'thorn' in her side. Mrs. Keel can take care of herself, trust me."

"Of course it's not a good thing that she pitched a fit in your room and hurt you, Paul... I'm just saying..."

Paul suddenly put a bandaged hand over his mouth and said, "Oh, God..." looking like he'd had a major revelation. "...Evie... Mrs. Keel got right in Dean's face and said he'd better never speak to her daughter like that again." He turned to Dean. "Her daughter."

Dean had started nodding. "That teen girl spirit who showed up in your room. That's who she was. And Mrs. Keel said that to me?" Now he was even gladder he'd shot the bitch.

"Would you like to let me in on what you're talking about?" said Evie.

"Does Keel have a sister who died? He does, doesn't he?" Paul asked. "When she was a teenager?"

"Yeah. He won't talk about it much, but he does have a family picture somewhere in his apartment and I asked about it once," replied Evie. "Alva told me she fell off a bridge when she was seventeen and drowned. He was only ten when it happened." She paused, almost dumbfounded by this time. "The sister was here too?"

Paul just nodded, astounded by it all himself. It was fast becoming a Keel family reunion. "What was her name?"

"Leighandra."

Dean made a face. "No wonder she's haunting people."

"Leigh for short," Evie added, rolling her eyes at him.

Dean gave her a big grin. "I have a cousin named Lee."

Evie deadpanned, "I'm so happy for you." She spoke in a normal tone to Paul, reaching out to rub his arm soothingly. "They're coming to you for a reason. I know you don't like them being here, but you should try to figure it out. But if Mrs. Keel attempts to hurt you again, we might need to tell Alva."

"For now, though, we shouldn't," Paul said; it was obvious the idea of revealing this to Alva made him very uncomfortable.

"I agree. This is really explosive. We can't be too gentle with a bombshell like this," Evie replied. She regarded Dean with a scolding, motherly look. "What did you say to Leighandra anyway?"

Without even a hint of apology, Dean responded, "She wasn't invited in here and her presence was bothering Paul, so I called her a bitch and told her to fuck off."

Evie shook her head. "Nice. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

There was an awful silence. Paul cringed and gave her an alarmed look, as if it could turn back time and keep her from making the verbal blunder. Evie had read Dean's file; how could she say that?

Dean gave her an icy look that probably would have killed her if he'd had that power. If Evie had been a man, he would have punched her. "No. I don't typically kiss dead women."

Evie mentally slapped herself. "Oh... I'm sorry. I forgot."

A long, awkward silence followed where Dean continued to stare Evie down. Would he ever stop glaring with those hurt little boy eyes? She had no choice but to try to shift the focus of the conversation. "Did Mrs. Keel do this too?" Evie pointed to a slight red mark on Paul's neck. "Those look like teeth marks."

Dean finally looked away, letting out a surprised snicker.

For his own part, Paul just looked embarrassed and cleared his throat. "Umm... I don't know, maybe some other object hit me."

"Objects have teeth?"

Waffling, he glanced at Dean, who had the side of his hand to his mouth to stifle more snickers, and finally said with a bit of annoyance, "Must I always be under the microscope?"

"Sorr-yyyy." Evie didn't like it. Paul and Dean had known each other less than 24 hours and already had a private joke, clearly. Private jokes meant a certain amount of closeness. What could the two men possibly have to talk about? She wasn't so sure them being friends was such a hot idea. Sure as anything Alva wasn't going to like it. "How did you get Mrs. Keel to calm down? Or did she just leave on her own?"

Smiling with pride (Dean loved his arsenal), he retrieved the sawed-off shotgun and held it up. "It's filled with rock salt rounds. Salt is a spirit deterrent. Bam, and the bitch said bye."

Evie flinched when she saw the gun, but that was nothing compared to the look of horror on her face when she heard what he'd done with it. "You shot her? Don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

"Got the job done."

"And now you've pissed her off even more. My God, you're reckless," Evie said, exasperated.

"You say tomato, I say screw you," Dean replied in a peppy voice.

Now it was Paul's turn to fold his arms and glare. "Would you two stop?"

Evie suddenly snatched the gun from Dean's hand and set it on the table.

"Hey!" he barked.

"All guns on the table," she insisted. "It makes me very nervous to have you armed in my presence. We don't need them right now anyway."

Normally, Dean would have told her to take a flying leap, but for Paul's sake, he'd indulge her. He couldn't resist getting in a few digs, though. "Phew, chickie, you are riding me really hard. Are you into me?"

"You wish," Evie scoffed. "Guns on the table."

Sighing, Dean pulled his second gun, the Glock, from the back of his waistband and placed it on the table, within his reach. Paul gaped, not only because he'd had no idea Dean was so heavily armed, but because he wondered why the man felt he needed all those guns just going up to Paul's apartment. Did he carry that much firepower all the time?

Good, that Paul had that look on his face in reaction to Dean's guns, Evie thought. Showed he still had some sense. "Thank you. Now the knives."

Dean smiled with his mouth closed, lips tight. "I don't have any knives."

"I read your file, Dean. I updated it. I know you have knives on you."

"Good to see you remember something from that file. How do you know all this stuff about me and my family?" Dean asked, annoyed. "Did you stalk me yourself, sweetheart?"

"Put the knives on the table and I'll tell you how we know," Evie offered.

"Told you, I don't have any knives." He spread out his arms, then dropped his hands in his lap.

"You know, if you two want to be alone, I could go get a coffee or something," Paul joked, wanting to lighten the building tension.

Dean quipped, "Don't be jealous, Paul, I still like you best," and grabbed Paul's ass through his jeans. Paul jumped back like Dean's hand was a giant stinger and glared at him, embarrassed. Dean just smirked. Paul could be so straight-laced, it was fun to mess with him.

The more he made jokes, the more Evie knew she had him. She just smirked back and took out her cell phone. "If you don't cooperate, I'll call my friends at the South Boston police station and tell them they should get over here really fast to check out a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, Kansas plate KAZ 2Y5, for connections with various felonies, and that they'd be real interested in the contents of the trunk."

Paul's eyebrows went up.

Dean, temporarily speechless, worked his jaw angrily while he tried to think of a comeback. "You a cop?"

"Former. South Boston PD, District 8."

"Crap." This would usually be the moment when he'd make a break for it... usually. Dean couldn't leave. Paul was supposed to lead him to Sam. He sighed. It just wasn't worth it. "Fine," was all he said before reaching up his sleeve and pulling out a small knife, tossing it on the table.

"What about the other arm?"

"I got dressed in a hurry," Dean growled at her angrily.

Paul just blinked at all the weaponry on the table. "Dean, do you really need all that?"

Shrugging, he said, "I feel naked without it."

They all fell silent for a few seconds. Dean looked at Evie, waiting, and finally grinned in triumph. "You forgot one," he declared with a snicker, and pulled another knife from his boot, tossing it on the table with the other.

Staring with her mouth slightly open, Evie looked from Dean from Paul with a startled expression. Dean could have kept that concealed; he was right, Evie had completely overlooked the possibility of a knife being hidden there. But instead, Dean had chosen to give it up for the sake of getting one up on her. He was good, but his pride could be his downfall. "Touché, I guess."

Dean looked at Evie as if he expected something from her. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You said all guns on the table."

"They are," she assured.

"Liar," retorted Dean. "You're a former cop. You still carry a gun out of habit. I bet it's in your purse."

Evie paused, thought about it, and gave in. She reached into her leather handbag and took out a handgun.

Paul raised his hands at eye level in surrender. "Now I've seen everything."

Dean, however, was not surprised. "You know, it amazes me how self-righteous you cops can be, but as soon as I offer a little touch, you're all here you go with the info. What upstanding citizens you are. I think you're just a bunch of hypocrites."

Dropping the gun on the table, Evie made a sound of disgust. "As soon as you offer a little touch? I could have gone my whole life without knowing that." She tried to ignore his anti-cop tirade. "Well, now we can get down to business."

"Uh, no, babe. You owe me an explanation first," reminded Dean. "Where did this guy Keel's file come from? The 'Winchester' file?"

Sitting down and opening the laptop, Evie answered, "Paul and I work for Alva Keel. Have you heard of him? Or Sodalitas Quaerito?"

"Both names are vaguely familiar. My dad might've mentioned them. As a rule, he learns as much as he can about any important players in the business." When he spoke of his father, Dean straightened up his shoulders with intense pride. "And this Keel guy was involved in the second Mothman thing."

Evie nodded, continuing, "Alva has built up a large list of contacts over the years. People all over the world. Some, you could call associates, others, operatives, whatever you prefer. Many of them are very stealthy, and will take things in return for getting information Alva needs. Some do it out of loyalty or respect. Either way, you make enough friends, and you get all the info you want on a father traveling the country with his two young sons, killing every evil thing in their path and stirring up Adept societies everywhere. Many people have debated over your father's methods for years now, some of the smartest Occult experts you could name. These files are part of Alva's methods."

The computer had booted up while she was talking. Evie now looked through various files for a particular picture. "Now, you have adopted every method your father taught you, and followed his lead, but even you have weaknesses, Dean. Like a cute little blonde in Tampa with a tiny digital camera."

She turned the laptop around so Dean could see the photo on the screen of the open trunk of the Impala. Paul marveled in shock at the arsenal of guns, knives, and paranormal gadgetry. "You've probably got better things to impress women with, Dean," Evie concluded.

Appalled, Dean growled out, "This is more than a little threatening. Why does this guy want all of this information and these pictures?" He pecked at the laptop with his fingers, minimizing the photo of the trunk so he could see the directory behind it. Other images were labeled, "Dean Winchester," "Sam Winchester," "John Winchester"... that was as much as he saw before Evie turned the laptop away from him.

"That's just Alva," she said with a dismissive shrug. "He collects as much information as he can on the paranormal. Before your family began the hunting, you did experience a rather rare paranormal event."

Dean was horrified to hear anyone describe the murder of his mother as a "paranormal event." He said, "I want to meet this Alva Keel. I need to know what gives him the balls to stalk me and my family so he can build some file that threatens our safety. If the wrong people saw that file... or the wrong non-people..."

Paul just shook his head. "Don't go to the trouble, Dean. I've already tried in that department."

Although he knew there was a story behind that comment, Dean didn't pursue it. He just let out a sigh. "Whatever. I want to talk to him as soon as possible. Now, turn that thing back around so I can see the rest of my file. I have a right to see it."

Paul's phone began to ring. He went to answer it, although the threat of another argument kept him distracted.

"You're too riled up as it is; I don't think you should see anymore," said Evie, holding the laptop protectively.

"Lady, turn that computer around - "

Paul made a sound so shocked and fearful it stopped the argument cold. His whimper sent chills of alarm through both Evie and Dean. They looked to see Paul trying to seat himself on the arm of the couch before his legs collapsed underneath him.

"Paul?" Dean and Evie rushed to his side, putting supporting arms around him to help him find the seat he was searching for. "What's wrong?"

He pointed a shaking finger at the caller ID box. Dean and Evie both looked.

It read...

PAYPHONE
MOUNTAINEER, VT

For a second, Dean wondered if Paul was about to get a call from himself. Then he remembered that this Tommy kid said they would receive a message about Sam. This was just weird enough... "Answer it!"

The phone had reached four rings, at which time the answering machine picked up. "Hi, you've reached Paul's place. Leave your name, number, and message after the beep, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." BEEP.

They all waited with held breaths to see who was on the line. Then, out of the faint sound of fluttering filament wings, came the voice of the Mothman. "Paul."

Paul nearly fell off the arm of the couch. He covered his mouth with one hand and just tried to remember how to breathe.

Dean took in the fact that Paul was too freaked to answer the person on the phone, so he slapped the speakerphone button. The answering machine kept recording the call. "We're here."

"Hello Dean. Hello Evelyn."

She swallowed down a lump of shock. "Uh... hi." An infamous creature that had only been seen in two series of sightings on this planet and it knew she was in the room... even knew her name.

"Hey dude," said Dean. "I recognize your voice. You're the guy who called to tell me Sam wanted to meet me in Boston. Where is he?"

"I told a little fib," the Mothman said with mock regret. "But it was important that I bring you two together."

Paul hadn't been listening to every word because he'd been trying to recover from the initial shock - he now asked, "Whom? Keel and I?"

"No. I wasn't talking about you and Keel this time."

Paul slowly looked at Dean. "You mean... you carried out this plan to bring Dean and I together?"

"Yes. It is important that you figure out why."

Dean and Paul stared at each other meaningfully. "What was it that you were saying about someone planning all this out and us being puppets in the game?" Dean said to Evie.

Over the phone, the Mothman corrected him. "Actually she said 'this whole thing seems a little too engineered. Like someone planned it all out and we're just players in the drama.'"

"Gee, thanks man," Dean replied sarcastically, and actually shuddered at the things the creature knew. "Why would you bring me and Paul together? It couldn't have been for - " He stopped himself before he said something about the sex. "...couldn't have been for nothing."

"I'm not going to do all the work, Dean."

"Then what did you call for?" snapped Paul. "You don't do all this to just say hello, how are you, did you ever recover from that time I kidnapped you."

"I wanted to apologize for not being more specific with my warning about Danielle Franklin. You couldn't have saved her, Paul. You shouldn't feel guilty." Although his words were soothing, the Mothman's tone was not. He still sounded like he was playing with them.

"You're not sorry, you don't even care. You like taunting us. I don't know why, but you enjoy it," Paul said through gritted teeth. His eyes glimmered with angry tears he refused to shed.

Dean reached over to rub Paul's arm, seeing he was upset, but pulled back. The chick, Evie, obviously wasn't aware of Paul's extracurricular activities with men, and Paul didn't want her to know. Dean became aware that irritating little pinpricks were making their way through his brain, deep inside where he couldn't scratch, though he wished he could. He knew from what he'd learned doing this work with his dad that the Mothman was using powers of clairsentience. He could see, hear, and feel what was happening to people many miles away through a sixth sense, in real time. That was the only way the Mothman could know about Paul's conversation with Keel a little earlier in the day. Unless the guy knew how to tap phones.

"Maybe I'm just bored," the Mothman said to Paul. He spoke directly to Dean again. "You don't like people sticking labels on you, Dean. Why must you do it to me?"

Ah, so he could add 'telepathic' to the list. "You can read minds too?"

"Yes. I can receive thoughts. How do you think I found out so much about you and Sam?" The Mothman's presence could be felt so strongly, even through the phone, that it was almost like they could see him turn his head to look at Evie. "Your update of the Winchester file was very thorough."

"It felt like someone was poking through your brain with a needle, huh?" Dean asked Evie, putting two fingers to his temple.

She just nodded, and placed her hands on Paul's shoulders to support him. Even a week ago, the Mothman was preparing for this by reading Evie's mind. He apparently could see the future; he'd probably known Paul's memories of what happened in Mountaineer would be recovered and when.

"As I was saying, Paul, you could not have saved Danielle Franklin's life. Evil has aligned itself against you, and will build up its forces to take out the rest of your inner circle. They want you alone when you face your greatest challenge. They'd settle for you being evil instead."

Paul shook his head at those words. God, what was the creature talking about? "Fine, whatever, inner circle. Right."

"You'll stand a better chance if you start believing in the end of the world, Paul," the Mothman advised.

"I don't want to," he replied petulantly. "I just want a normal life!"

"But Paul..." The Mothman took a dramatic pause. "...you aren't normal."

Paul put his head in his hands, and after several long seconds, mumbled, "Shut up. God, just shut up."

Dean's need to hug the man was almost overwhelming; he fidgeted in place.

"But there are things you need to know, Paul. Crossed correspondences. What you are. Keel works in secrets - there are things he would never tell you unless he was forced to. There is one very big one that will elude you for a time, but once you find out... well, you'll have to decide for yourself how you'll want to digest the truth."

Paul gave a shrug. "I already knew that. I know Keel has another secret."

"Because of what Diane McNeal said."

"Yes."

"What did Diane McNeal say?" Evie asked.

Paul waved her off; later, later. This wasn't the time.

"I'm not sure you can imagine that truth, Paul. But it may be everything you ever wanted," the Mothman said. For the first time, his voice did not sound mocking and mischievous. It sounded sympathetic. "I will not call again, but I will tell you of the devastation at the uniform factory. There is little time left. Seventeen will be thought lost, but sixteen will burn." It clearly sounded like the Mothman was ready to hang up.

"No, wait!" Dean cried. "You know where Sam is, don't you? Isn't that really why you called?"

"I know exactly where Sam is. He's right here with me."

"In Mountaineer, Vermont? Where?" Dean yelled, almost grabbing the phone. He wanted to reach through it and throttle answers out of the Mothman, but immediately, he found he didn't have to. They all heard a young man coughing on the other end, coughing and then throwing something up.

Dean recognized the basic components of his brother's voice in those sounds. He thumped down on his knees before the short table that held Paul's phone, bringing himself close to it like it would bring him closer to Sam, and listened helplessly to the gagging noises. "Sam? Sammy! Are you hurting my brother?" Dean grasped the sides of the table hard.

Paul reached out and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "It's okay. Sam will be fine in a minute."

Feeling frazzled, Dean snapped, "How do you know?"

"Because what happened to me the night I drove to Mountaineer has now happened to Sam." Paul looked at Evie, who nodded in understanding. "The Mothman can't speak in human language; he's like an animal. He has to use a person as a conduit to speak through. The way he does that is by inserting a pod into the throat of his conduit through which he speaks," Paul explained, all very clinically and detached. He couldn't emotionally handle telling the story any other way.

"The pod also controls the person through drugs it produces," Evie added. "We heard it all from Paul during yesterday's hypnosis session. Your brother just threw up the pod. It all makes a great deal of sense, that this is what happened to Sam."

"You mean, this whole phone call, and the one I received the other day, we've actually been talking to Sammy?" asked Dean, stunned.

Paul nodded.

The retching sounds had stopped. "Dean?" Sam's voice said weakly.

Dean wheeled back around to face the phone. "Sammy... hey kid, you're going to be okay."

"Dean, where are you?" Sam sounded confused and a little scared. "Where am I?"

The things Paul and Evie had said disturbed Dean to his very core. This... this monster had shoved a pod into Sammy's throat to kidnap him, control his actions, and speak through him. What gave it the right to do something like that to his baby brother? Every protective bone in his body sang that this thing needed to die. Just the image of Sam standing in some anonymous phone booth, scared and disoriented and in his pajamas, made Dean want to rip this thing's head off with his bare hands. Except, it didn't have a head... "You're in Vermont, Sam. But you're safe now."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in Boston."

"How did I end up in Vermont and you in Massachusetts?" Sam asked with alarm. "Dean, I don't remember how I got here."

Dean reached out like he was going to pet the phone, wishing he could touch his brother, soothe him, calm him down. "Sammy, it's going to be okay. I'll explain everything when I come get you."

"It'll take hours to drive from Boston to Vermont." Sam paused as he looked around. "Dean, shit, I'm in my pajamas. I don't even have any shoes on."

Cringing, Dean replied, "I know. I'm going to take care of it as soon as I can."

Paul leaned down to Dean's current eye level. "We have a friend who can help, just give me a minute to make a phone call, okay?" He got out his cell phone and dialed Officer McCann's number.

"You hear that, Sammy? We're going to take care of you in a jiff."

"Who's there with you?"

"That was Paul." Dean watched him on his cell phone for a meaningfully long time. "He's a friend."

Paul got Officer McCann on the phone. "Hi, this is Paul Callan. Are you still in Boston? I need your help." He paused for a shaken breath. "It's happened again."

A minute later, Paul walked back over to Dean and said, "My friend is a Mountaineer policewoman. She knows all about what happened to me, and believes. Officer McCann has called her partner in Mountaineer, and he's going to pick Sam up and take him to the station, where he'll be safe until you can get there. We have a hunch Sam is at the same payphone I used when I made my calls, across the street from an Econo Lodge. Right, Sam?"

Sam looked; there was a pause. "Yeah," he answered.

"This will all be done off the record. They won't even run your names through the computer. Look for Officer Sullivan, okay Sam?" Paul gave Dean a warm, comforting smile. "Oh, and, uh, the officer will be taking a sample of the stuff you threw up for my employer, okay? Just so you don't think he's crazy or something. We can explain that to you later."

Too grateful to currently care about this 'sample' Keel wanted, Dean said, "Thank you," and brushed Paul's cheek with his fingers. Evie narrowed her eyes; that was an awfully familiar thing to do. "Did you hear all that, Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam's voice regressed ten years with fear. "I'm kind of all alone here... totally unarmed... will you talk to me until the officer arrives?"

"Of course I will," Dean replied, finally letting the relief wash over him. "I know how much you love the sound of my voice. You have got to stop getting kidnapped, Sammy. I mean it this time. I never thought we'd get this chance again. Didn't think our luck would ever be this good after the hillbilly cagematch jamboree."

Sam laughed a little.

"Was that a chuckle I heard? You think it's funny, the image of that creepy little Missy bitch in a cage? People could visit her, like at the zoo. Throw peanuts at her and shit."

Chuckling again, Sam added, "We could charge admission."

Evie stood behind him and listened to Dean keep his brother company, and marveled over the difference. This was the same piggish jerk who grabbed Paul's rear in front of her as a joke and carried more weapons than any one man should need? With his brother, he was so gentle and protective. Maybe Dean Winchester wasn't all bad.

Fate is an Engineer is (c) 2006 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television
Supernatural is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.