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

Chapters: 4 of 5
Rating: Adult17+
Word Count: 40,864 total; 5,737 this chapter
See Parts I and V for Author's Notes and Credits.

Part IV: Winchester Pride

The sun had gone down by the time Dean and Sam got back from Vermont. Dean still insisted on "chatting" with Alva, and it was obviously very important to him if he was willing to drive all those hours back from Vermont. Paul had suggested to him that he take a plane, since it would be so much faster, but Dean just mumbled something in response about how he'd rather drive.

Evie and Paul had filled Alva in on everything that had happened before the Winchester brothers got back. Although he knew Dean was angry with him for the file, the spectre of the heavily armed man hanging over his head did not seem to shake him. Alva was calmly reading through The Book of Revolution when Dean got back with Sam.

Sam was now dressed in regular clothes, complete with shoes. By the look of him, he should have just stayed in his pajamas; he seemed very sleepy. Dean kept a protective arm around his shoulders. Looking at Sam, Paul remembered how tired he'd been after the Mothman's attack - he'd slept practically the whole way back to Boston. He let them in his apartment and found a seat for the groggy little brother. Although, calling Sam a little brother seemed wrong, with how tall he was. Sam towered over his older brother and Paul. What was he, at least 6'5"?

"Hi Sam, I'm Paul."

"Hey. Sorry I'm so out of it, but..."

"I understand, Sam; it happened to me too. You'll probably sleep at least 16 hours tonight. It's the drugs it put into your system," Paul explained.

Sam nodded slowly. "At first, I couldn't remember what happened, but it all came back on the ride here."

That gave Paul pause. "You're not blocking it out?"

"No, I guess not. I grew up being manhandled by monsters like that. I can deal," Sam said with a shrug.

Paul nodded. "I didn't... didn't grow up like that at all."

"I know. Dean told me. Before I conked out in the car, he told me all about you guys." Sam smiled with amusement. He especially liked Evie; any woman who could put his brother in his place as well as Dean had described had to be some woman. "This Alva Keel guy sure had him hopping mad."

"That would be me." Alva had put down the book, and walked over to shake Sam's hand. "This is Evelyn Santos, our third member and Assistant Manager." Alva waved his hand in her general direction. She nodded at Sam in greeting. "Once you are feeling up to it, Samuel, might I interview you on your experiences with the Mothman?"

Dean put a foot between Alva and where Sam was sitting before his brother could respond. "Fuck no."

Paul winced; this was going to be awkward.

Annoyed, Sam glared at the back of his brother's head. It really bothered him when Dean answered for him. Sam was a grown man.

Alva kept a smile on his face. "You are Dean Winchester."

"That's right, MacPulpy."

Alva blinked at him. "MacPulpy?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's what I'm going to beat your Scottish ass into if you ever do anything that threatens my brother's life again," Dean growled.

"Dean..." said three cautioning voices at once; Paul, Sam, and Evie all spoke.

Alva regarded him with a furrowed brow and a smile as relaxed as he could manage. "What did I do that threatened your brother's life, Mr. Winchester?" Alva could not bring himself to call the young man 'Dean' for the same reasons Paul called him 'Keel' instead of by his first name - emotional distance.

"You're keeping this file on my family. The Mothman read it through telepathy and thought my brother looked like a really bitchen set of stereo speakers. Who knows what could have happened to him," said Dean.

Even Sam was exasperated by that one. "Dean, he couldn't have possibly known this would be the result of that file."

"Why's he keeping the damn thing anyway?"

"Because they investigate the same stuff we do, and some people keep files," Sam explained, making it sound simple.

"But I don't like somebody having a file on me. He's got photos of all of us. Even a picture of the Impala's trunk! With the secret panel open!" Dean cried angrily.

"You and your family have been causing quite a stir in the parapsychological community for years now. Few use the methods you do, especially the violent ones. Except maybe Slayers." Alva gave a shrug. "Pictures are important."

"I don't like it," Dean reiterated.

Alva turned to him again and got a bit sarcastic himself, though his voice did not reflect it. "Well, Mr. Winchester, give me an address and I'll be sure to mail you a picture so you can keep a file on me."

Mouth curling into a snarl, Dean's arm tensed up; it was obvious he was about to pull back his fist.

"Dean!" Sam yelled.

Paul and Evie leapt to their feet.

Sam continued, "Lots of groups have files on us, Dean. Remember Dad telling us about that?"

"Yeah, but do they have pictures too?" Dean glared at Alva, bouncing on his feet, trying to decide if he wanted to pop the guy one or not.

The only sign of fear in Alva showed in the way his eyes widened slightly and then shifted around as he realized the young man really wanted to hit him. He refused to show more than that. He knew Dean could hurt him pretty badly if he wanted to; who had been trained to fight here? But Alva knew that if he showed any fear, it would be like showing it to a territorial rottweiler.

Dean glanced down at Sam, then uncurled his fingers. "You better stop riding me, man. Everyone in your outfit has ridden my ass and I don't like it." A sudden thought made him smirk. "Well, except for when..." He directed the smirk at Paul, who gave him a discouraging look back.

Okay, what was that? Alva and Evie both wore question marks above their heads; they were clueless as to what this cryptic banter between Paul and Dean meant, especially when they spoke it with a smirk and a look. Evie thought she was beginning to figure it out, though.

Sam didn't quite get it either, though he could read his brother fairly well by now. Dean didn't like nor trust the others, but he did feel some sort of connection to Paul.

"I'll try to stop 'riding' you," Alva said, and spoke to Sam again. "Are you sure we can't talk?"

"Wait," Dean suddenly said. "Yeah, you can interview him, as long as you share everything you learn, all your theories, with me."

Alva shrugged. "Certainly. Is there a specific reason?"

"Because I need to learn everything I can about it if I'm going to hunt it. The Mothman dies," Dean declared.

They all stared at him as if he'd just broken into an unexpected chorus of "I Feel Pretty." His proclamation sounded insane. What was even crazier was the casual conviction with which he'd said it.

Even Sam remarked, "Dean, you can't be serious."

"Does this not look like my serious face, Sammy?"

Tempting fate, Alva stepped a little closer to Dean. "Mr. Winchester, I don't think you understand - "

Dean whirled toward him. "No, you don't understand! This thing, this monster, it came and lured Sam outside by making wounded animal noises. It wanted him vulnerable and alone. And my brother is a topnotch fighter, Keel. But it was still able to jump him and hold him prone like a rag doll and stuff some pod down his throat so it could control him." Dean winced as he said those words, his eyes crinkling and showing the crow's feet at the corners that had shown up about a year ago. "Then it just snatched him up and flew off with him, like I wouldn't be left behind going nuts, thinking he was dead or worse. All so it could make a phone call. No, nobody does that to a Winchester, least of all my baby brother. He's my responsibility. The Mothman dies by my hand. You tell me how I can find it."

In that moment, Sam realized how much pain was behind what Dean had just said, and how loved he was and always would be by his older brother. "Oh, Dean..." he said, shaking his head at how silly he was. But Sam loved him for it.

Paul sat back down and opened the door on his empathy. He knew he shouldn't do this, knew it was like spying, but since Keel had mentioned to him that he was probably empathic, he'd been playing with it, honing it, trying to learn how to turn it off and on at will. At times, Paul was like an empathy junkie, feeding off others' emotions, drinking his fill and then leaving like a stealthy burglar without them even knowing he was in their heads and hearts. It wasn't like it hurt them in any way. He focused on Dean, and tried to filter out the anger, telling himself he was just working on the control of his empathy, when really he wanted to feel that pure, protective love of family. It was warm, whole, and soothing... everything Paul ever wanted. He closed his eyes and drowned in it. In ways, it made Paul jealous. As much as he wanted his father to acknowledge him, growing up with a sibling would have been even nicer.

Alva let out a sigh. "Mr. Winchester, there are several really good reasons why you can't kill this creature."

"Oh yeah? What are they? Huh? What's going to keep me from getting it where it lives?"

"Because it lives in the fourth dimension."

"...Oh." Dean tried to keep his cocky stance, but fumbled for a comeback, ruining the effect. Paul thought it was cute to watch. "Where's that?"

"The fourth dimension is around us at all times. You could think of it as an extension of length, height, and width if you could add time as a component. While we are three-dimensional beings and can see up to three sides of a cube at a time, a being like the Mothman can view all sides of the cube at once. He is able to see into the past, present, and future, something we do not have the capability of doing. While the fourth dimension is - "

"Okay, my brain is melting here. I get it," Dean sing-songed. "If there's a way out, there has to be a way in."

"You couldn't survive on that plane. You're a third-dimensional being," Alva tried to explain.

Dean thought it over. "Then we have to find a way to draw it out here. The Mothman has come to our 'plane' at least three times now, that we know of. We can draw it out again."

"Mr. Winchester..." Alva spoke in a very serious but almost pleading tone. "...don't do this thing. Haven't you been listening to your own words? This is extremely dangerous. Your brother is a 'topnotch fighter,' but the Mothman snatched him up with little effort. He's very strong... fast... you could both be killed. Besides... aren't you at all curious what else the Mothman knows?"

Dean glowered at Alva, wondering where this guy was coming from. "No. I could care less."

"But it's a being of prophecy. It could even be some sort of personification of fate. Perhaps there's a great deal we could learn from him." Alva had taken on his 'professor' voice, the voice of teaching.

But Dean was too angry to listen. "All I care about is what it did to my brother. The Mothman's actions were evil. If it wanted to tell us stuff, there were better ways to do that. It's an evil creature."

"I believe the knowledge the Mothman possesses is too important to give up so easily," Alva said, crossing his arms over his chest with conviction.

"More important than what it did to Paul?"

There was a long, tense silence in the room. Paul's eyebrows slowly rose.

"Have you seen his hands? The bruises, the cuts? I wrapped those hands. Do you even care what all this has done to him?" asked Dean accusingly. "Sam has dealt with more of this kind of shit over his lifetime, and even he was scared and shaken. Think of what something like this must do to someone whose total childhood experience with monsters was in the movies."

Alva gritted his teeth and suddenly hissed, "Of course I care," surprising even Dean. "But these things are drawn to Paul because of his psychic gifts. There isn't anything I can do to stop that."

"But there is." Hands on his hips, Dean paced back and forth as he spoke. "You could protect this apartment with salt circles."

Alva immediately turned to Paul. "Do you want large circles of salt drawn across your floors?"

Paul had to shake his head. "No. Sorry Dean, I know you're just trying to help, but I don't know how I'd ever explain that to people."

Growing frustrated, Dean said, "Then use invisible energy circles."

"Is that what you want?" Alva again asked Paul.

"If we did that, then ghosts who need help, like Audrey, couldn't get in. No. No circles."

With a helpless expression, Dean moved closer to Paul, saying, "We could tailor the circles to your specific needs - keep only the bad things out."

"I'm not sure that's possible with a spirit like Audrey. She has another ghost who is attached to her, and he's pretty bad." Paul sighed. "No, I think I'd rather stick with the psychomantium chamber. We're close to convincing Audrey to use it."

"You guys have a psychomantium?" Sam suddenly asked with as much excitement as his tired self could muster. "Can I see it sometime?"

Alva wanted to stay on the young man's good side; he smiled and nodded. "Of course."

"I always thought those things were a little interesting." He grinned at his brother. "Remember when we were teenagers and we wanted a psychomantium, and Dad wouldn't let us build it because he said it was too dangerous?"

Although Dean was still stuck on the protective circles, he couldn't pass up this opportunity to entice his brother to stay in the fold. Was this really Mr. I Want a Normal Life, showing a genuine interest in something paranormal? "We could make a portable one if you really want it."

Sam grinned, looking boyish.

Dean paced across the room and back to Paul. "If you don't protect your apartment in some way, then violent ghosts will come in too." He was talking about Vivian Keel, though he wouldn't say her name out loud with Alva there. Dean wanted to respect Paul's wishes to keep the dead woman's visit secret for now.

Thinking it over, Paul replied, "They need my help also."

"But you'll be hurt." Dean raised his hand to touch lightly around the area of Paul's forehead where he'd been hit, suddenly remembered there were other people in the room, and fidgeted awkwardly before dropping his hand. He looked at the others a bit self-consciously to see if they'd noticed.

Paul sometimes just didn't care about the ethics of it; he empathically dipped right into Dean's emotions toward him. He already cared so much for Paul's safety, so protective, such warmth, such fear of losing people close to him. Dean had seen those people get hurt so many times that he desperately tried to prevent it, and felt like a bit of a failure when he couldn't. Dean already didn't want Paul to be another failure. Paul had to close his eyes momentarily; the emotions came rushing through so fast sometimes.

When he reopened them, Dean was looking at him with concern, expecting a reply. "I've been hurt before," Paul said. "I always heal. Helping others is more important. You follow that philosophy too."

Dean didn't know what to say. He was caught between knowing Paul spoke the truth and wanting to save him. He finally said something that maybe he shouldn't have. "What about the sleepwalking?"

Paul's eyes widened until one might think they would fall out of his head. "How did you-" His eyes then narrowed. "Oh. Mrs. Bongiovi told you." Paul knew his neighbors well enough to know who was the gossip.

"Yeah. She told me you even leave your apartment sometimes." Dean looked at Evie, then Alva. "Mrs. Bongiovi told me you were concerned, but you..."

Paul jumped up. "You know too?" He ran his hands through his hair, walking the room, working up a full brood.

"Paul, your neighbor was just concerned about you," Alva said. "She told us because we're your friends."

"Mrs. Bongiovi shouldn't have told you. Am I just not entitled to even an ounce of privacy?"

"Why would you want to hide something like that?" asked Dean.

Sam broke into the conversation, adding, "For the same reasons I didn't want to talk about my nightmares for so long."

After considering that, Dean sighed over all the dangers and pain he could neither erase nor control. But there was one thing he felt he could do something about. "Why do you pretend you're so concerned with Paul's safety?" he asked Alva confrontationally. Alva blinked at him, wondering what the motivation was for this renewed attack. "Paul's neighbor told me what your response was when she told you about him leaving his bed at night. Did you or did you not tell her to write down anything Paul said when she caught him sleepwalking? Wouldn't it be better if she got him back in bed instead of spending all her time writing you a note?"

Paul looked confused in response.

Simply nodding, Alva did not deny it. "Yes, I told Mrs. Bongiovi to do that. I also told her to try to get him back in bed. Asking her to write these things down doesn't mean I want her to encourage Paul to walk around more."

Paul asked the inevitable question. "Why do you want Mrs. Bongiovi to write down the things I say while I'm sleepwalking?"

Alva appeared uncomfortable to be forced to answer that, but didn't feel he had a choice at this point; he replied, "Because I don't believe your sleepwalking is a normal case of somnambulism. I think you sleepwalk because the forces within you see that time as their chance to speak out. Just like they did when you were hypnotized."

Paul stared at Alva in absolute shock. He wasn't even fully sure what all that meant. "Forces? Some sort of 'forces' spoke from inside me while I was hypnotized?"

Cringing at the worried look on Paul's face, Dean regretted bringing this whole thing up.

Alva tried to be gentle. He knew this sort of thing was always hard for Paul to hear about himself. "Yes. You obviously don't remember that part. Do you remember what happens when you walk in your sleep?"

"Never. I just wake up out of my bed." Paul sat back down. No matter how much he hadn't wanted to talk about this, he was talking about it now. "You're serious? I spoke like I was some sort of force within me?"

Oh great, now he had an "I'm crazy, aren't I?" tone to his voice. Dean could have kicked himself.

Alva explained the voice of the "Forces" to Paul, how his voice had changed, and the things he'd said during the times that he'd spoken this way.

"God, I sound like some kind of freak," was Paul's response.

Alva shook his head. "Don't do that to yourself, Paul. After the things you've seen... the ghost of a little girl who could cause disasters, a troop of Civil War soldiers marching through modern times, even the other side... how could you think you're crazy just because your abilities have been given a voice?"

Dean tried to help. "Yeah, Paul, I mean, it's not like you're walking around when you're awake saying crazy shit."

Paul laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Thanks, Dean. Good to know it sounds insane either way."

It took Dean a second to realize what he'd said; he eventually rolled his eyes. "You know I didn't mean it that way."

Alva, trying to recover some ground, pointed out, "Mr. Winchester makes a good point, you know. It does only happen when you're out in some way."

"You'll excuse me if I'm not very comforted." Paul ran his hands through his hair again, smoothing some of it back. "I'm sorry. This is all so weird."

"Take your time," said Alva.

"Why is this happening, Keel? Why don't all psychics walk in their sleep?" Paul asked.

"Seems like different abilities manifest themselves in different ways. I have nightmares," Sam pointed out. "Ones that come true."

Alva looked at him with interest.

"But Keel thinks there's something special about the way Paul's abilities vent themselves. That's why he wants what they say written down. Am I right?" Dean said to Alva.

"Uh... you're on the right track, Mr. Winchester." Alva definitely wasn't comfortable discussing any of this at this point. But there it was.

"What are you looking for, Keel?" Paul asked.

His eyes shifting from side to side, Alva let out a sigh. "After all the time we've worked together, Paul, we still differ on what I'm looking for."

Paul only had to think on that one briefly to figure out the answer. "The end of the world."

"Yes. I've received information that it could be upon us. Maybe tomorrow, maybe years from now. Then the Mothman calls today and says that evil is aligning against us. All the signs point to my information being correct. You will play a significant part in preventing this Apocalypse, Paul," Alva explained to him.

After a short pause, Paul began to laugh. "That's nuts. You may not believe it, but the mere idea... I wish you would give up on this, Keel."

Dean was not laughing. "Who does this information come from?"

"I'd rather not reveal that at this time. It would leave them too vulnerable." It would also be a bit too hard to explain that he'd heard all this from a stranger in a dream, a teenage girl to boot. Alva couldn't explain the feelings that told him she knew what she was talking about; how did one expound on a hunch, a dreading of the future from the pit of one's gut?

Some would have thought it strange that Dean didn't doubt Alva's words, even if Alva wouldn't reveal his source, but Dean obviously didn't, as he gazed at Paul helplessly and said, "You think Paul's inner voices may give you some clues, that they may be able to predict the Apocalypse, to help prevent it."

"Yes."

"Don't tell me he's convinced you too?" Paul laughed.

"After some of the shit I've seen? I was already convinced," Dean replied.

"I also think that beings like the Mothman could provide valuable information on the subject," continued Alva. "That's why I beg you not to kill him."

"What, you're going to question it?" Dean scoffed.

"If I could find a way..."

"But there's no way to talk to it without a person acting as its conduit," Dean pointed out.

"That's true..." Putting a finger to his lips, Alva gave it some thought.

"Holy shit, you would!" cried Dean, giving a little hop of incredulous anger. "You would totally let the thing attack Paul again if it meant you got to talk to the creature! You'd put him in danger if it led to you getting information."

Suddenly on guard, Paul looked from one man to the other.

"Have you ever had to prevent an Apocalypse, Mr. Winchester?" Alva asked.

He wished he had a killer comeback, but Dean simply didn't. "No. That's one thing I've never had to do."

"Then you don't know how much of a responsibility it is." Alva moved closer to him, looking him seriously in the eyes. "I know. I have lived with it for years now, and I still have no clue how the Apocalypse will begin. What sets it off? How do we stop it? What do I do to prepare Paul? All questions I need answers to. Obviously, the Mothman knows something about it... if I had my chance to question him, I would. I would. Any sacrifice that was made would be for a noble cause."

"What are you saying? Instead of killing the Mothman..." Dean leaned in. "...you want us to capture it?"

"If I thought it was possible, I'd say please, please do it. But I don't believe the Mothman can be captured."

While this conversation was going on, Paul had been growing increasingly tense. The more he heard, the more he wanted them to ask for his input. Exactly who did they think was going to act as the Mothman's conduit? Was Keel volunteering Paul without even asking him? He couldn't handle that, could never allow that thing to touch him again, to shove another pod down his throat, no no, never ever. If Dean hadn't clarified his expectations with what he said next, Paul would have lost his composure and screamed at them both.

Dean actually thought it over, relishing his love of the hunt. "If... if we could find someone else to act as the conduit... someone willing... and Sam and I had our dad's help..."

"We could do it," Sam added with conviction. "I volunteer to be the conduit."

Dean turned and glared at his younger brother. "In what universe is this happening?"

"Dean, don't worry, I can handle it."

"But it's dangerous."

"Everything we do is dangerous. Dean..." Sam stood up, putting his hands on Dean's shoulders. "...what if the Mothman knows something about the demon that killed Mom and Jessica?"

He paused before speaking, remembering how much it hurt to be a little blonde boy feeling the heat from his mother's burning body on his face. "God, I don't know..."

"I don't need your permission, bro," said Sam with a shrug.

Dean, obviously frustrated, replied, "Saaam..."

Sam just shot back, "Deeean," in imitation. "Does this not look like my serious face?"

After a few seconds of fidgety, irritated waffling, Dean huffed, "Fine, I guess I'm in too, since I have no frickin' choice." He wanted information on the demon that murdered their mother and Jess worse than almost anything, but was it worth possible injury to his brother?

Alva marveled over how fast this had come together; could they really accomplish such a thing?

Still a bit perturbed, Dean went into the bag he'd brought up to Paul's apartment and took out a Tupperware container. "Oh, by the way, here's your Mothman spooge." He shoved the bowl into Alva's gut just a smidgen above too hard.

"Oof!" Alva grunted. He took hold of the bowl, which anyone could see was half full of black and glowing green goop. "Uh, thank you."

Sam, disgusted at the words his brother had used, scrunched up his face and complained, "Eww, Dean, I had that in my mouth!"

Paul spoke up. "Hey, we have work to do. Remember, the Mothman made another prediction. A uniform manufacturer, sixteen will burn. He said there isn't much time left. That was hours ago. If this tragedy hasn't happened already, we'll be lucky. We should hurry to figure it out, and stop it."

Within half an hour, they had it narrowed down to a branch factory of Sintac* Uniform Manufacturers.

"Sam, you stay here and get some rest. Paul said it was okay to use his couch. The rest of us will take care of this," Dean said. "Now, I put some stuff in the four directional corners of Paul's apartment to keep the Mothman out, okay? Don't worry about that at all. Just get some sleep."

Sam didn't argue. He was half asleep already. "Are we getting a hotel later?"

"You guys can crash here tonight," Paul offered. "The couch folds out into a bed."

"Thanks Paul. We'll take you up on that." Dean patted the currently closed couch. "That's a handy little thing." Somehow I doubt I'll be on the couch tonight, though, Dean thought wryly.

Alva looked uneasily at Evie. They were going to have to have a private talk before this night was over, as both were secretly worried about how close Paul had gotten to the Winchesters so quickly. Their worry was just for different reasons.

Dean insisted they take his Impala after he got a look at Alva's car. He couldn't stop laughing at the Jeep Grand Wagoneer in the parking spot next to his. "You actually paid money for this hooptie mobile?" he asked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. He sarcastically added, "Nice car."

Alva tried to take it with good humor. He had to be used to it by now, after all the times people had teased him about his car. "I didn't buy it for its looks."

"That's obvious," Evie said, sending herself, Paul, and Dean into peals of laughter. Alva cracked a genuine smile and chuckled a bit for his own part. It served to relieve the tension they were all feeling at having to walk right into a potential disaster, where they could be killed right along with those burning sixteen.

On the way to the factory, they tossed around ideas of how they could convince the management that they should evacuate the place, but nothing sounded like it would work.

"How about a gas leak?" Paul suggested.

"Nah, they probably won't believe us without uniforms," Dean lamented with a shake of his head.

"We could always borrow some from the factory," joked Evie.

A feral smile spread across Dean's face. "I may have an idea."

They walked into the lobby of the factory as casually as possible. "Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"Where's the bathroom?" Dean inquired.

"Down that hallway," she replied, pointing toward it.

"Thank you." Dean grabbed the lapel of Paul's coat and leaned over to Alva and Evie. "When we get back, I'll tell you what we're going to do, okay? You wait here."

"You have to go now?" Alva complained.

"Trust me," Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows, and dragged Paul off with him.

Alva commented to Evie, "Why does that only worry me?"

She put her hands in her pockets, just hoping that no part of the factory would blow up in the next few minutes. "He's very abrasive, but he's growing on me. I guess Dean will have to, huh? The Mothman said he brought Dean and Paul together for a reason. Sounds like we'll see more of him."

Alva barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Lovely."

"When this is all over, we need to have a talk, Alva. A private talk." Evie turned to him and spoke quietly. "Our friend Paul is a little too naïve and charitable for his own good."

"Well, that's how the church taught him to be, hm?"

"Right. But that sort of nature can be taken advantage of."

Alva nodded. "Yes, it can."

"As much as I want to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, for Paul's sake... it's obvious he's, um... a bit overinterested in Paul," Evie said as euphemistically as possible.

His eyebrows rising, Alva turned toward her halfway. "You think Mr. Winchester is trying to convince Paul to leave SQ and join up with him too?"

All she could do was laugh for a good five seconds. "Oh, Alva... never mind. We'll talk later."

Dean took Paul down the hallway, examining the wall along the way.

"What are you looking for?" Paul asked.

Dean grinned as he found it almost immediately. He looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone, then grasped Paul's coat, pushed him against the wall, and gave him a deep, involved kiss.

The touch of those warm, soft lips surprised Paul, but he recovered quickly, and responded by opening his mouth. Their tongues touched lightly, as did Paul's hand on Dean's hip. When Dean moved away, he ran his tongue over his lips to savor the taste of Paul's mouth.

"What was that for?" Paul asked with a grin.

"Just in case this doesn't work out, and we're all about to die or something. I can't leave this world without getting at least a little action." With that, Dean reached over and pulled the fire alarm on the wall next to Paul.

Paul started at the sound. He smirked when he realized what Dean had done. "This was your great plan?"

"Gets everybody out of the building, doesn't it?"

The group stood outside the building with the workers, who were still evacuating. "This is what I should have done in Mountaineer before the avalanche hit," Alva mused with a pleased grin. "Bet that lodge manager would have just loved it."

"I think things moved a little too fast in Mountaineer for you to even look for the fire alarm," Paul remarked. "They've almost got all the employees out of the building, and noth - "

Paul's voice was eclipsed by the sound of the explosion at the back of the factory.

* That one's for you, Karen, 'cause you know which letters to switch around. ;D

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.