Part 2

Later that evening the brothers found themselves outside of a building which advertised dance and acting rehearsal space. Sam confirmed the address again and they headed up the stairs. The younger Winchester paused at the first landing.

"I don’t want to go.” The darker haired hunter leaned against the wall.

Dean crossed his arms. "I know you rather talk with Mac about whatever, Dude, but it can't be all fun and games." The older hunter headed up a few stairs. "It’ll be like we’re among your people.”

"My people?" Sam frowned at his brother.

"People with the shining." Dean gestured to his forehead.

The younger hunter shook his head at his brother's remark. He followed him up a few steps. "They channel people-I don’t do that, Man."

The lighter-haired hunter shook his head and smirked. "Well, maybe you’ll learn something."

Sam continued up the stairs. Dean was right. He did not want to be among people who were termed 'freaks.' He was used to dealing with people with psychic abilities on a one to one basis-not a room full of them. If felt slightly overwhelming. He also wondered if this was a complete sham, if they were genuine or worse was there anyone there touched by a demon. It seemed unlikely since he had not received any demon connected visions.

Once they reached the fourth floor they were directed by paper signs to the correct room. Milling about were fifteen people mostly Hispanic and Latin American descent. The room was too big for the small crowd. It had high vaulted ceilings, a wood floor and tall windows. Metal folding chairs were formed into a circle, and just as Caleb had predicted there was a table against the wall with a coffee urn and some covered plates which Sam assumed were desserts. Dean headed over to the coffee, filling a cup for himself and brother.

They had a few sips of the hot brew before a tall, olive skinned man clapped his hands. "Everyone take a seat." He immediately noticed the two newcomers. "My name is Joachim. Welcome. Are you familiar with our charity work?"

"Charity work? We thought you talked to spirits?" Sam asked in confusion. Maybe this was the wrong group? He looked at Dean.

"We speak with tormented spirits to help them, our charity work," Joachim explained.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm Dean. This is my brother Sam. We'd like to watch for now, if that's okay?"

"We just ask that you keep an open mind."

"It's open all right." Dean muttered under his breath for only Sam to hear.

"We ask that the spiritual benefactors be with us." Joachim raised his arms before sitting down again. Almost immediately a middle-aged Brazilian man spoke in a husky voice. There was murmuring in the group. Both brothers leaned forward.

"Why do I find myself in this miserable situation? Where are the angels and the heavenly music?" he asked, agitated.

Joachim folded his hands together. "My friend, we are here and we will help you. Your suffering will end soon."

The man began sobbing and then raised his voice: "Why do they call me horrible names? I never killed anybody and they call me killer! Where is God? Where is the light that was promised to me?"

A woman, her dark curly hair caught back in a clip spoke to the spirit filled man. "Do not be afraid."

Dean elbowed Sam, and jutted his neck out. Some of the members were holding pens, eyes closed and writing.

"Do not be afraid to give testimony to help others on their path to spirituality," another woman announced, reading from her notebook.

For the next hour people spoke up, all seemingly not using their own voice, but that of a troubled spirit. Then Joachim called for a break. He headed towards Dean and Sam, holding out a hand to offer a formal introduction.

"What do you think of our group?"

"It's different. . ." Sam started to say. The EMF detector Dean had hidden by his jacket hadn’t picked up anything unusual

"My brother here, he gets visions. Being from Kansas well, people didn’t understand. We heard about this group. . ." Dean interjected with a grin. Sam was slack mouthed, telling the truth sounded like a lie. The older brother shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I have some sort of latent abilities—doesn’t this stuff run in families?"

Joachim nodded. "Perhaps this will help. We learn -- just like the way a psychiatrist learns from his patient's problems. And we are also preparing ourselves. There comes a time for all of us to die."

"Been there, done that." Dean quipped. "Hi, I'm Dean." He introduced himself to the woman with her hair clipped up as she joined them.

She introduced herself as Celia. Dean smiled, enjoying her soft accent. "Come on Saturday. Sick people come for treatments. I have seen people cured from cancer and other diseases."

"By just doing this?" Sam asked.

Celia smiled and shook her head. "No, no, this augments traditional medical treatment."

"We also have more conventional meetings on Sunday," Joachim explained.

"So, tell me, are you guys normal? I mean. . ." Sam tried to broach the subject, but felt awkward. So far it seemed like people pretending, but so eager to help and hope for something more. He wanted something more too.

"They have a saying in Brazil; Catholic by day, Spiritist by night," Joachim said.

"He's a stockbroker and I'm a teacher," Celia replied. "I can give you some materials when we're done. Tells you a little about the members, counselors, and religion."

"That would be great." Sam gestured they needed to take their seats once more as Joachim was calling for attention.

At the end of the meeting, Dean and Sam remained behind, waiting to collect the information from Celia and to help put the chairs away. They said their goodbyes, Sam clutching the pamphlets and current newsletter.

They stayed hidden, waiting for Joachim to exit. With a safe distance between them, they began to follow him home.

"Happy?" Dean asked Sam as they entered the New York transit system.

"That we're conserving gas, yes."

"Dude, my poor baby is alone and defenseless up there." Dean looked up to where they had left the car parked on the street.

"I told you to leave the car at Mac's." Sam said as they huddled in a dim corner waiting for the train, and attempting to be inconspicuous.


The subway was not crowded, and they filed into the preceding car. Once he alighted from the train they continued down a street and noted his entrance into a brownstone in Queens. Dean ran up to the door, looking at the names listed. "He's in apartment three. We can check it out tomorrow while he's at work."

They backtracked and found the Impala safe and sound. They entered Mac's deluxe building, getting the once over by security stationed behind their marble counter as they got on the elevator.

"Man, you definitely don't blend." Dean grinned at his brother, who replied with a raised eyebrow.

They entered the apartment chuckling. Mac was sitting in an overstuffed chair, a floor lamp shining light on him. His glasses were perched on his nose and a book lay open in his hand.

"Boys, have a good evening?"

"You know how it is, spend some time with the Spirtists, stalk one of the counselors and then come back to the bat cave." Dean flopped down into the leather couch.

Sam sat next to his brother. "Nothing unusual so far, the EMF didn’t move."

Ames closed the book. "But you think there's something there?"

"I don't think they were channeling any spirits, but the guy who died admitted to being possessed. . . "Sam explained.

"I'd say you should give it a little longer." The doctor tapped his fingers against the closed book. "Maybe you want to call Bobby?"

"This hasn’t risen to Bobby level yet. Hasn't risen to anything at all. Could be nothing." Dean leaned forward. "Problem is there are fifteen people there, and no one was forthcoming with information, though they want to adopt Sammy as their mascot."

The younger Winchester shoved his brother's shoulder. "We should still give it a chance, like Mac says. People don’t ask for help before they shoot someone."

"If you give me some names I can ask a friend to see what she comes up with."

"She?" Dean scooted forward on the couch. "You've been holding out on us Mac."

Ames shook his head. He forgotten how little the Winchesters truly knew about The Brotherhood and the position of Scholar. They were after all the outlaws of The Brotherhood. Emily and Carolyn had grown up in hunting families, were in fact hunters themselves, but decided to use their talents in other ways. Emily was a researcher for The Brotherhood utilizing databases for secular information. Carolyn was the clean up person, trying to keep what The Brotherhood did a secret. Sometimes when the Winchesters were involved she would receive the intel too late to provide any assistance. Interestingly enough Emily and Carolyn both knew of the Winchesters, and wanted to meet them to punish them for making their jobs more difficult.

But Mac was not about to clarify Dean's misconception at this point. "Somehow my son has perpetuated a fiction of celibacy where I am concerned. Gentlemen, I am discreet unlike some." He stared directly at the older Winchester brother. "Dean, Dean, Dean, the stories I could tell you. . ."

"I'm a willing pupil. You always said I had potential."

Mac shook his head with a grin, noticing how Dean had used a comment in regards to school and learning to women. Ames always felt the young hunter had potential. He applied himself when it suited him. The doctor remembered when a young Dean asked to learn how to suture. Mac went to the local grocery store and bought all their chicken breast and a crate of oranges. By the end of the day Dean's stitches could rival that of a plastic surgeon. Mac also taught the twelve year old how to draw blood and give injections, figuring medical skills for hunters were always needed. Ames knew the interest was because of Sam. Dean wanted to make sure Sam wouldn’t have any scars. He deserved the best stitches. Mac thought the older Winchester brother would have made a wonderful doctor, a pediatrician. "But it would be too hard to undo Caleb's misguided information. . ."

"Yoda outranks Obi Wan."

Ames continued to smile. Somehow he knew Dean would not believe the outlandish truth. It was better to be discreet. "So what's on your agenda tomorrow?" He changed the topic of conversation.

Sam glanced at his brother before answering. "I don’t think you really want to know."

"Illegal activity?" Mac placed a hand on his forehead. At least he would be able to tell Carolyn prior to the escapade.

"I wouldn’t say that," Dean drawled out, relaxing back into the couch. "Is it illegal if the person doesn’t even know about it?"

"It is breaking and entering without permission."

"But if he was there maybe he would invite us in?"

Sam pulled out a piece of paper, and brought it over to the doctor. "Here's that list of names, Mac. We really appreciate it."

He glanced at it then folded it in half. He stood up and stretched. "Night boys," he said with a wink.

"Ever get the feeling. . ." Sam started to say something to the effect of there was something going on, they were in the center of, but had no idea.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

They stayed up watching television before calling it a night.

They made a quick entry into Joachim's apartment. It was smaller than Jeffrey Simmons's, but very neat. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Again the brothers found themselves flipping through some books. Dean sniffed some candles he had found.

"Vanilla," he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. "Never heard of scented candles for any rituals, ahh, well, not these kinds of rituals. . ."

"TMI, maybe Mac came up with something on those other names?"

They met the doctor for lunch at a quiet café, Mac handing over a folder to Sam as he sat down. The benefits of staying with Mackland were not only free board, but free food. Dean's dream of something not out of a gas station vending machine was coming true.

They spent the remainder of the week investigating the other members. Dean had already made the decision to leave if nothing happened by Sunday. Mac's apartment was becoming too convenient and comfortable. Their rooms were clean and warm. It was calming that someone cared about their well-being. Dean wanted to share the secret with Mackland. The words were on his lips, wanting someone else to carry the burden, help him and guide him to a solution, but he held back. Sam wanted to face he demon and the so-called destiny head on. There would be no respite from others. They needed to move on soon.

On Saturday they made their way back to Hell's Kitchen for the healing. The room was bustling with people having one on ones with what the brothers assumed were counselors. Next door there was opera singing, and the sounds could be heard through the walls.

Joachim noticed their entrance and gave them a nod. The brothers waited by the food table. They didn’t wait long for the tall Brazilian man. He also brought over another familiar face.

"This is David. He was at the meeting on Monday also."

"Yeah." Dean snapped his fingers in recognition. "You were channeling that really twitchy dude."

"I think we helped him." David spread his legs apart and crossed his arms. "You sound like you are a doubter."

"No, I believe that there are things that most people don’t understand," Dean said solemnly. He glanced at his brother. "Supernatural in fact."

Sam glared at his brother, but David nodded vehemently. "If the Vatican expects Catholics to accept that Jesus rose from the dead, and that saints were visited by spirits then I think others can interact with them."

"Ahh, right." Sam didn't want to get into semantics about religion. He wondered how these people got involved with this group and why. As far as he could tell none of them had any real psychic abilities. He would have to ask Mac if mental abilities could be learned. "How did you get involved?"

"I was looking for answers to 'Who am I,' 'Where do I come from,' 'Where am I going,' 'What is the objective of my existence.'"

"Still haven’t found Waldo have you?" Dean said, and blinked innocently when the others looked at him, as if he hadn’t made an odd comment. The older Winchester shrugged and noticed Celia was there. He left his brother with the other two men deep in conversation.

He tapped her on the shoulder. "Thanks for that information." He pulled the newsletter with a picture of Jeffrey Simmons on the front page. "Mentioned some guy who had died in a hold up? What was that about?"

Celia shook her head, and stepped away from another group to give them privacy. "Jeffrey wasn’t like the rest of us-he had issues."

Although the Spiritists weren't like the cults Caleb told him stories about, Dean still remembered he considered them a cult, which mean these people had more issues than most. "Like what?"

"Ex-wife wouldn’t let him see his kids."

Dean rubbed his chin. "And he could channel spirits too?"

"Last time he channeled an elderly woman."

The hunter could not believe intelligent people thought they were calling on spirits. The EMF detector didn’t lie; there had been no energy present in that room. "And he seemed fine?"

Celia shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe a little distracted." She leaned in closer to him. "We're going to try to contact him on Monday."

Dean knew Sam would want to stay. They would have to intrude on Mac's hospitality a little longer. "Can't wait."

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