The St. Stephens Gazette was located in a tiny corner store front down town. When Dean walked in to inquire about Missy Carter, the soul occupant of the newspaper office pointed him in the direction of the used book store next door. Apparently the two reporters on the Gazette's staff did double duty as store clerks.

A bell rang as Dean pushed open the door to the book store. A dusty, slightly mildewy scent mingled with the scent of cinnamon air freshener. Metal utility shelves, nothing fancy, were lined up down one wall with hand lettered signs taped to their ends indicating what could be found among the books crammed into them. Stacks of books sat against another wall and surrounded the desk A blond woman sat at the desk reading a magazine and eating an apple. She looked up as Dean entered, peering at him from behind a pair of stylish glasses. She was quite pretty in a country girl sort of way. Anywhere else she might have been considered plain.

"Can I help you?"

"If you're Missy Carter you can."

She put down the magazine and took off her glasses. "I'm Missy," she said in a leisurely Arkansas drawl. "Who might you be?"

"John Stanley," Dean said. "I'm studying parapsychology at the University of Arkansas and I saw your article about Lisa Holland."

Missy stood up and came around to the other side of the desk. She sat down on the edge. "Yeah? What about it?"

"Is it true, what she's done?"

She hesitated, giving him a careful look before replying. "Are you questioning my journalistic integrity, Mr. Stanley?"

"Hell no," Dean replied promptly, wondering if Ms. Carter was going to be as difficult to deal with as her buddy Lisa. "But I think, being a reporter, you can understand that some questions have to be asked."

She shrugged. "This is a small town. Not much goes on here. I write a human interest column once a month featuring folk in the community. That month I had nada, and I talked Lisa into giving me an exclusive. People were talking, wanting to know more, because yeah, she has come up with some kooky stuff."

"She said you were friends."

"You talked to her?" Missy frowned.

"Briefly, before she slammed the door in my face."

"Yeah, that would be Lisa. No," she said. "We aren't exactly friends. We just went to high school together."

Dean could guess the real relationship. Missy had been on the cheerleading squad, pretty and popular. Lisa, with her big buggy eyes and frizzy hair, had been bookish and quiet, ignored or quite possibly made fun of by the other kids. She would have been honored at any attention Missy gave her.

"Do you believe her claims?"

"Oh yeah, I do. If you're here to debunk her, good luck. When it first started happening she came to me, and Sheriff Dunbar to tell us what she'd seen. We blew her off at first until she was proven right. She told Dunny to close off Roundabout Way, our local deadman's curve, 'cause it was going to get cold and someone was going to have an accident."

"That's not hard to predict. A road with a history of accidents, unusually cold weather..."

"You'd think, yeah, but Lisa not only told us what day, but what time of day and who it would be. Dunny's still upset that he didn't believe her. Young kid from the community college got killed. His truck hit a patch of ice and went off the road."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And the other incidents?"

"Similar. Mrs. Pringle had a heart attack. Francis Gordon broke her ankle falling down her basement stairs. Lisa even told Dunny his daughter got knocked up by the kid she was dating." Missy frowned. "That went over real well."

"Has she ever been wrong?"

"Nope. The closest she's been to getting something wrong was when she said Marty Scott's trailer was going to catch fire at Christmas. It didn't, but someone else's did and it looked almost exactly like Marty's right down to wreath on the front door."

Motion caught Dean's eye. He turned to see Sam peering in the front window of the bookstore, obviously looking for him. It was time to wrap up the interview.

"Thanks," he said. "You know, is there any way you could maybe get Lisa to talk with us herself?"

"Not a chance in hell," Missy remarked. "It took a lot to get her to let me use her for the article, and then she got pissed off because people started harassing her. I can't get near her anymore without her pointing that damn dog at me."

Dean grinned cockily. "Derek? That sweet little puppy?"

"That sweet little puppy nearly tore a guy's arm off last week. She's lucky he was blatantly trespassing or he probably would have sued her. He still might try it."

"Ah, well thanks again, Missy. Are you okay with me calling you Missy?"

"Yes, and if you're heading for a pick up line..." She looked Dean carefully up and down and sniffed. "I'm not interested."

Dean blinked, surprised. Her look of distaste was unmistakable. "Uh, oh. Okay."

He had been wondering if maybe Missy wouldn't go for a drink later. He rationalized that in going out with her he might be able to talk her into trying to make amends with Lisa and therefore have an in with the woman himself. It was obviously a no-go, and relatively new territory for Dean Winchester, chick magnet. Not many women turned him down.

Missy got up and went back around to her seat at the desk. She replaced her glasses, sat down, and picked up her magazine again.

Dean took that as a dismissal. He walked out with a bruised ego and watering eyes. The bookstore was an allergy sufferers nightmare and he didn't even have allergies. As soon as he hit the street he sneezed.

Sam waited outside, leaning on the front of the Impala that Dean had parked at a meter in front of the Gazette. He looked up as Dean approached.

"Well?"

"She's clean, the cold hearted bitch." Dean joined his brother at the car. "I don't think the story was anything but filler. There's just nothing going on in this burg."

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression. They'll probably print anything just to keep the paper in circulation."

"Story is accurate though. Missy claims to believe Lisa's got some sort of precognative power. All the predictions came true, and she gave me examples of a couple that hadn't been in the article. I didn't feel like she was lying about any of it."

Sam nodded as he pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "I went to the cafe down the street. Talked to a couple of people there, including the sheriff. They all believe she's been, quote, 'touched by God,' end quote."

"You still think she might be related to you and Max?"

"Nu-huh. Pattern doesn't fit. I got more details on the fire that killed her parents. Her father was a drunk, fell asleep with a lit cigarette. Lisa was two, and her mother threw her out an upstairs window to a neighbor before going back inside the house for some unknown reason. Both she and her husband died of smoke inhalation. Lisa was raised by her aunt, who left her that house when she died three years ago. The premonitions started the summer before last, long before mine started." He flicked a finger against the notebook. "And there's nothing besides that to indicate any trauma, physical or emotional, that may have triggered her abilities either."

"Maybe she doesn't have any abilities." Dean procured Sam's notebook and leafed through the notes he'd taken based on his interviews. "Maybe she's causing these accidents."

"Dean, she predicted the sheriff's teenaged daughter was going to get pregnant. Unless she's an incubus in disguise I hardly think she caused that!"

"You're assuming she's causing them by mundane ways, Sam."

Sam cocked his head, drawing his brows together. "A curse?"

"Ye-up. Or she's getting something else to do her dirty work for her, like Mrs. LeGrange back in Nebraska."

Dean hated to think that was the scenario. Having been on the receiving end during the whole LeGrange situation, he really didn't want to deal with a similar issue so soon. He remained a little - bruised - from the near death experience and what had followed it. Still, Lisa having a supernatural accomplice was a viable explanation for what was happening here. The key would be finding out how Lisa was doing it, and for that...

"We need to get into that house," Sam murmured.

Startled, Dean looked at him, wondering, not for the first time, if Sam wasn't soon going to be adding telepathy to his portfolio. He shrugged it off though, the answer had been obvious after all. Sam would have drawn the same conclusion Dean did without reading Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah," he replied. "But first we need to get her out of it, and then we need to get rid of Derek."

Getting Lisa out of the house proved easier than they expected. Further investigation revealed her membership in a book club that met every Tuesday night in a neighboring town. It was an hour there, an hour for the meeting, and an hour back; three hours was more than enough time for them to search the house. Derek was the fly in the ointment. Lisa left him behind to guard the house. There was some debate on how to get past him as Sam apparently thought Dean was just going to shoot the dog and be done with it. Dean, however, came up with a more humane solution.

"I can't believe you stole a dog," Sam complained, pushing said dog's muzzle away as it tried to lick his face over the back of the seat.

"Borrowed a dog," Dean said. "Borrowed." He glanced over his shoulder where the big Newfoundland mix was shedding hair and drooling all over the Impala's back seat. " 'cause I'm not going to keep him, that's for sure."

"Oh, thank god for that." Rolling his eyes, Sam fended off the dog's undying love once again. "He stinks. Where the hell did you get him?"

"In some guy's yard. I'll put him back when we're done."

They had passed the St. Stephens veterinary hospital on their way in to town. Now Dean pulled up in the parking lot and got out of the car, telling both the dog and Sam to "stay" as he went rummaging through the trunk. He came back with a leash.

Sam looked at him and frowned. "Should I ask why you have a leash in the trunk?"

"Nope," Dean flashed him a grin as he attached the leash to the dog's collar. "Trust me Sam, some things you really don't want to know."

"It's some kinky sex thing isn't it?"

Dean paused, looking slightly sheepish. He could feel his face flush as he made his denial. "No, it's not some kinky sex thing. Here." Quickly he handed Sam the leash to end the conversation. "Go in there and tell them you're on a cross county road trip and Fido here has run out of doggy downers."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you're cute and innocent looking. They'll believe you. Me - they'd think I was planning on reselling the stuff to elementary school kids or somethin'. " The dog tried to lick Sam's face again. "Besides, he loves you."

Sam grumbled, but he led the dog out of the car. "You owe me one."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up and get in there Dr. Doolittle."

Dean leaned against the car as Sam disappeared into the vet's office with the tail-wagging mutt in tow. A half hour later they had returned their accomplice to his yard and were on their way to see Derek armed with a pound of hamburger and a bottle of canine sleeping pills. They parked behind the house in the alley and hit the back door. Within seconds of their stepping up to the door Derek was there throwing himself at it in a frenzied attack. There was no window, so they couldn't see him, but they could hear his growls and the scrape of his teeth and claws against the wood.

Sam laced the hamburger with the recommended dosage of medicine while Dean worked on picking the lock. It opened easily, so did the door, and if the chain had not been on it he would have been in big trouble. He leaped backward as Derek shoved his muzzle out through the gap between door and frame. The dog was snarling and snapping, biting the door as if it were trying to rip it open. It was a far cry from the friendly Newfie mutt.

"Give me that broom," Dean made a grabbing motion with his hand and Sam complied, handing him the broom propped up beside the door. He used the broom to shove the paper tray of hamburger though the door, which he then slammed shut. Derek's guarding instinct gave way to his hunger instinct and they heard him downing the meat almost immediately. When it was gone he resumed his attack on the door.

It didn't last long. After a while the barking stopped. Dean pressed his ear to the door and heard the dog yawn. A few minutes later there was absolute silence, even when Sam reached out and knocked. They opened the door. Dean stuck a hand in and waved it around. When he pulled his hand out intact he deemed it safe to enter.

With one swift kick to pop the lock, the two of them entered to begin their search. Derek was sprawled out asleep in a doggy bed by the back door. He did not budge as they passed him.

Dean hit Sam in the chest. "Is your brother a genius or what?" he whispered.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's just get this over with before he wakes up."

There was nothing unusual about the house. It was small, neat, and tidy without a whole lot of clutter. In the living room the furniture was worn, but comfortable, with a bookshelf filled with paperback romances. The television was small, with only a decrepit rabbit ear antenna - no cable or satellite. She had a VCR, but no DVD player, and a box full of movies - mostly sappy romances.

"What does she do for a living?" Dean asked, before they split up to search the rest of the house.

"Web designer." Sam jerked his head toward one of two bedrooms. "A pretty good one too from what I was told."

Lisa might not have had an entertainment center full of state of the art electronics, but her computer was the best available on the market and loaded with extras. In fact, she had two. The bedroom was her office. Not only did she have the two computers, but she had printers, scanners, a copier, a fax machine and a multi-lined phone. Dean whistled. Sam looked longingly at a brand new laptop she had stashed on a bookshelf.

"Maybe she's using the computer to see the future."

"Oh, come on, Dean. You don't honestly believe that do you?"

"Objects can be possessed, Sam. Combine some sort of supernatural power with toaster and who knows what you'd get." He rolled his eyes at his brother's skeptical look. "Hello? What business are we in again? Stuff that doesn't make sense makes sense."

"That didn't make any sense."

"Dude! Maximum Overdrive?"

"Hmm. Let me guess. That's either a movie or we're discussing your libido again." Sam grinned. "By the way, did you wear the dog collar or did she?"

Dean growled and shoved him toward the kitchen. "Shut up. Go check out the basement before Lassie wakes up. I'll take the other bedroom."

The other bedroom was Lisa's bedroom, and it was just as neat, tidy and sparsely decorated as the living room. Dean went through her drawers, her closet, and checked under the bed. On the bookshelf/bedside table were more of the same romance novels that were in the living room. He pulled one out and looked at a cover featuring a woman lying back in a man's arms as if she'd fainted. Her low cut, lacy dress revealed plenty of cleavage. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

Dean idly leafed through the pages, wincing at first, but after a skimming around for a moment he soon found himself caught up in a soft core sex scene featuring "heaving bosoms" and "rippling muscles" and a whole lot of "thrusting hips." Distracted, he sat down on the bed. The captain's first mate interrupted the sex to tell his superior that pirates were off the starboard bow. Apparently Christina of the heaving bosoms was the pirate captain's daughter. Completely entranced by the prospect of a sea battle in which there would be canon fire and possibly a sword fight, Dean didn't notice Sam had come back and was leaning against the doorjamb, watching him read.

"What are you doing?"

After his initial start of surprise, Dean hastily replaced the book on the shelf. "How can anyone read that crap?"

Sam snorted laughter. "That's a good question, and considering you were sitting there reading that crap just now, why don't you answer it?"

"I wasn't reading it. I was...looking for clues."

"Oh, so now you're thinking Lisa is divining the future through romance novels?"

"Have I told you lately that you're a prick?" Dean stood up. "What did you find in the basement?"

"Dirty laundry," Sam sighed. "And not much else." He scowled deeply, his unease clearly written upon his face.. "I can't shake this though, Dean. There's something...not...right, here."

"Spirit? Demon? Shapeshifter? Is she a witch?"

"I don't know."

"You're running out of choices, Sam. This girl is about as mousy as they come. Are you sure your radar isn't just having a senior moment?"

"I'm sure." Sam sighed again, and pushed himself off the doorjamb.

As Sam stood up straight, he also took a step into the room, allowing more of the hallway behind him to be seen. Dean looked down the hall and what he saw there made him freeze, every muscle going tense.

"Sam," he said quickly, quietly.

"What?"

"Shut the door."

"What? Why?"

"Just. Shut. The. Damn. Door."

Sam would have to be stubborn. Sam would have to turn around and see for himself what Dean was looking at behind him.

What Dean was looking at was Derek, standing (albeit a little wobbly) at the end of the hallway with his hackles raised and his teeth bared. As soon as Sam looked back at him he charged, stumbling a little at first, but quickly gaining speed as he rushed down the hall like a locomotive at full throttle. Dean watched as his brother whipped around with his eyes as big around as dinner plates.

"Oh, crap!"

As fast as he could, Sam grabbed the door and slammed it shut. It had no sooner closed when there was a bang and frenzied barking from the other side. Sam stood with his back against the door staring at Dean with a horrified expression.

"That's no dog, that's a hell hound! He should have been sleeping for hours!"

"No," Dean said calmly, going over to the window and unlocking it. "It's just a dog, but it's a freakin' monster of a dog. I just got the dosage wrong." He opened the window and took out the screen. "Come on, time to bail."

"Dean!"

Dean already had one leg out the window. He glanced back over his shoulder. "What?"

"I can't let go of the door."

"Sure you can, he can't get through a solid door, Sammy. He's just a dog."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "The latch is busted."

"What?" Dean jerked his leg back in the window.

"If I move this door is going to fly open, that dog will get in, and there's no way I'm going to get from here to that window without losing a limb!"

There was a pause in the growling as Derek sniffed at the crack at the bottom of the door. They heard a doggy snort, and then the attack began anew. From the sound of things the dog was bouncing his front paws off the door in an attempt to open it. The door actually bounced in its frame, even with Sam's full weight against it. Derek weighed almost as much as he did.

Dean was intrigued. "There's got to be some wolf in that dog," he said, watching the door rebounding from each hit. "He's huge."

"Will you shut up and do something!"

The low bookshelf next to Lisa's bed was an old, solid piece of furniture. Fully loaded with books, it had to weigh at least as much as Sam. Even if Derek did manage to get the door open enough to get in, it would still take him a while, and by then they'd be long gone. Dean took the lamp and the phone off the bookcase and dragged it toward the door. A few of the books tumbled out of it to the floor, but most of them remained. Sam grabbed it the other side as it came within his reach and together they wedged it up against the door.

Dean crouched down to push the bottom closer to the door, and that's when he noticed that the books had been placed on the shelves two rows deep. Behind the pink and yellow paperback romance novels were old, dark, leather-bound volumes, and some newer hardcovers. Dean read some of the titles and called Sam down to look.

Ignoring how the shelf vibrated from Derek's efforts beyond the door, Sam examined the books. His face fell into a deep frown. "Celtic rituals. Druidism?" He pulled one of the older books off the shelf and looked through it, shaking his head. "This is written in Gaelic."

"I thought you read Gaelic?"

"Dad reads Gaelic. I only know Latin and a little French."

"Damn," Dean growled. It wouldn't be the first time he wished their father wasn't AWOL.

Sam replaced the book and looked through some of the others. There were dozens of books about the occult. "It's not just the Celts she's interested in either. Greek and Roman Mythology and Magic, Ancient Religions of Brittany and France..." He stopped, and pointed at one thin volume wedged in between two thicker tomes. "Pagan Rites of Prophecy and Divination. think we hit the jackpot"

On the other side of the door, Derek began digging at the carpet and growling with more intensity. Dean tugged at his brother's shirt. "Come on. We'll look them up online. Let's get out of here before that dog gets in and has us for dinner."

They let go of the bookcase and headed quickly for the window. Dean wiped off as many surfaces as he could on the way out, just in case Lisa decided to have the cops investigate. He slammed the window shut behind him just as he saw Derek shove through the bedroom door. The bookcase tipped over with a crash. Books went flying everywhere as the dog lunged toward the window.

Dean shot it the bird, and took off running.

"Stupid mutt."