By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
 

Category: Casefile
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post-Truth
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I also find the recent Supreme Court decision on copyright law to be disgusting and a direct violation of the spirit of the Constitution. Be that as it may, there is no intent to infringe on the existing copyright to these characters.
Archive: 10X and elsewhere with permission.
Author's notes: A huge thank you to Martin for letting me play in this playground. I'm not a next gen fan, but I did love The Truth and loved what 10X did to bring the little family back together. I'm just helping that along.
E-mail: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Mulder and Scully, still on the lam with William in tow, stumble onto an ancient Native American legend in the badlands of South Dakota ...

Dreamcatcher
By Vickie Moseley

 
"Ranger didn't mean to eat it, Mama!" Jared Twin Rivers assured his mother with a pleading look and his arms wrapped securely around the neck of the Labrador-shepherd mixed breed puppy.  "He thought it was a chew toy!"
 
Ellie Twin Rivers pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to will away her headache.  "It was hanging above your brother's bed.  In your bedroom.    I told you, until that puppy is trained, I don't want him in the bedrooms, Jared!  Unless you intend to follow every move he makes, picking up all his little 'puppy surprises, '" she added, pointing to the latest yellow puddle on her freshly mopped kitchen floor.  "Get out the mop and clean up that mess.  Then I want you to tie that dog out in the backyard, and I don't want to hear another word about it!"
 
"But, Mama, he'll get scared out there all night!" Jared protested.
 
"Yeah, well, he can join the club.  Your little brother is not going to want to go to bed without his dreamcatcher."  She looked forlornly down at the mangled blue leather-covered wooden hoop once that had sported feathers and tiny metal chimes that made comforting sounds when the wind blew through the open windows into her son’s room.
 
"I can fix it," Jared assured her, hoping that by returning the dreamcatcher to its former glory he might deflect some of his mother's anger at his new pet.
 
Ellie shook her head.  "Jared, you know nothing about dreamcatchers.    How in the world will you fix it?    And where are you going to get the leather?    Here, just throw it away in the burn barrel and we'll see if we can't buy him another one on Saturday.  You just have to expect Timmy to climb into bed with you tonight, when he has a bad dream," she scolded.
 
Jared took the torn hoop from his mother and grudgingly stuffed it in his back pocket.  After cleaning up the puppy puddle, he sadly took Ranger out in to the backyard and tied him to the door to the shed.
 
The lead was a good, strong rope, at least 25 feet, allowing the puppy free reign of the small yard, if he was careful not to tangle himself up in Ellie's two rosebushes.  But, as puppies always do, Ranger was tangled within minutes of coming outside.
 
"Ranger, you gotta be careful!" Jared admonished.    "There are all kinds of stuff out here at night.    Coyotes and coydogs and wolverines and badgers.  And each and every one of them would love a nice little dogburger for a midnight snack.  Maybe I can sneak out later, after Mama's asleep, and bring you back inside.    But you gotta quit eating stuff that ain't s'posed to be ate!"   
 
The puppy untangled, Jared turned his attention to the leather-and-wood hoop in his pocket.  Taking it out, he examined it closely.  The leather wound around the hoop, encasing it.  Okay, he could rewind what was left.  It didn't cover all the wood, but it looked better than it had.
 
Most of the webbing in the middle, the spider's web, he remembered from the legend, was gone.  That was fine, too, because Jared had a whole collection of twine and rope that he found along the county road when he rode his bike in the afternoons.    Going to his secret hiding place, the hole he'd dug behind the shed, he found a length of twine very much like what remained on the hoop.   
 
It took several minutes for him to fashion the web.    He'd watched spiders spin webs many an early morning.    But it was probably easier when the spinner had eight legs.    He ripped it out and started more than a dozen times before he was satisfied.  It looked pretty good.    All he needed was to find some feathers.
 
The sun was warm as he got on his bike.  He'd told his mother he was going for a ride.    She was busy helping Timmy with his alphabet.    Timmy was trying hard in kindergarten, but he didn't seem to catch on as easily as Jared had.  Jared was grateful his mother was occupied.  He had a mission, and she probably wouldn't have approved.
 
Not far from their home was a butte.  It jutted out of the plains like a pillar.    He'd seen “ Pompeii 's Pillar” once when his Sunday school class went on an all-day trip to North Dakota and the badlands.  He knew they lived in the badlands, too, in South Dakota , but they didn't have any monuments to Lewis and Clark.    The butte by his home was craggy and had lots of nests in the rocks.    He was pretty sure at least a couple of the nests belonged to eagles, and that was exactly what he was looking for.
 
He was careful climbing out onto the crags to get the feathers.    Making sure he didn't look down into the forty-foot gorge below, he snatched a long white feather with a black tip and some smaller white downy feathers.  With his prize tucked safely in his rucksack, Jared got back on his bike and headed for home.   
 
At dinner, he presented his mother, and Timmy, with the newly restored dreamcatcher.
 
"Jared, you did this?" Ellie asked, amazed.    "It's beautiful!"  She turned the hoop over and over in her hands, admiring the workmanship.
 
"This afternoon," Jared told her proudly.
 
"Where did you get this feather?" Ellie prodded, a note of suspicion in her voice.
 
"I found it, on the road," Jared lied, keeping his eyes on his plate of red beans and rice.
 
"You didn't go out to the butte to get it out of one of those eagle's nests did you?" his mother accused.
 
Jared remained silent, still staring at his plate.    Timmy, who had been quiet throughout dinner, snatched the dreamcatcher out of him mother's hands.    "Can we put it up, please Mommy?   I wanna try it out.   Can I go to bed?"
 
Ellie felt the smile tug at her face.  "Well, where is a tape recorder when you need one?    Timmy Twin Rivers, wanting to go to bed?    And at seven o'clock in the evening!    OK, Sport, we'll go hang it up."    She stood, taking the plates to the sink and wiping her hands.    "Oh, and Jared, we are going to talk about the butte, later," she threatened.
 
Timmy did indeed go to bed without complaint, but he managed to keep talking until long after Jared had joined him across the room.    Jared thought his little brother would never shut up.    But finally, the room and the house were silent.    Jared rolled over and let sleep claim him.
 
It was somewhere in the darkest part of the night when he felt something brush past him.  He thought at first it was the breeze from his window at the foot of his bed, but it came from the other side of the room, the side with no window or door.    It seemed to originate somewhere near Timmy's bed.   
 
Jared sat up and looked around.  The room was dark and silent.  The only light was the faint orange nightlight that shone on the wall near the door.    He listened closely, but heard nothing.    Giving up, he laid back down and attempted to go back to sleep.
 
Something brushed past him again!  This time it was cold and it smelled bad, like rotten food or garbage.    Or death.  This time, Jared didn't sit up - he lay still, huddled under his covers, listening.    The only sound was Timmy's even breathing from the other side of the room.  But then, the stillness of the night was broken by a blood-curdling yelping out in the backyard.   
 
"Mama!  Ranger!" Jared yelled, and scampered out of bed to his mother's bedroom door.    Ellie was already out of bed, her pellet gun in her hands.    Both Ellie and Jared ran through the small cottage to the back door.
 
Outside, it was dark as pitch.  The yelping had stopped suddenly.  Ellie flipped the switch just inside the back door and illuminated the yard with the sixty-watt porch light.
 
The puppy was nowhere to be seen.  "Call him, Jared," Ellie instructed.
 
"Ranger!  Here boy!    Ranger, c'mon boy.  C'mere, Ranger!  Ranger!"    With each call, the boy became more frantic.    From inside the house, they could hear Timmy starting to cry from his bed.
 
"Jared, go see to Timmy.  I'll find Ranger," Ellie ordered.  Jared looked ready to argue, but he nodded woefully and headed back into the house.
 
From the porch light, Ellie saw mostly shadows.    Quietly, she stepped off the stairs leading to the yard and whistled low.  "Ranger?    Here boy!  Ranger," she called, walking slowly toward the shed.
 
When she got to the building, she grimaced.    Picking up the lead rope, she could see where it had been neatly sheared off.  Her foot encountered something wet and she reached down to wipe it off.    Much to her dismay, she could see it was blood.   
 
"Oh, Ranger," she said, her throat tight with tears, not so much for the puppy but for the young boy who was about to taste sorrow yet again in his life.  "Damn it, Ranger.    Why'd you have to go and do that?" she asked the wind.    Turning around, she made her way back to the house with shoulders slumped and heart heavy.
 
She didn't notice the blackness that hung around the shed and after she left, she didn't see it move off toward the road.
 
1452 S. Lakota Avenue
Apartment E
Kyle, South Dakota
 
Dana Scully lugged the last dinette chair up the second flight of stairs and dropped it unceremoniously inside the front door to the apartment.
 
"Tell me again why we took a third floor walk-up," she panted, collapsing into the very chair she'd just hauled up the steps.
 
"Because it was the only one available and it's cheap," Mulder reminded.    He was screwing the last screw into a slightly battered Jenny Lind crib.  With the final twist, he stood up and shook the crib, smiling when it appeared to be solid.    "Where did you put the mattress?"
 
Scully wiped a lock of hair out of her eyes.    "In the nursery.  Where I thought you'd assemble the crib," she said dryly.   
 
He ignored her obvious dig and pushed the now-assembled crib through the narrow hallway, getting it caught up on the door casing as he tried to negotiate the sharp turn to enter the room.  After several minutes of struggle and at least one banged thumb, he was successful in getting the crib all the way into the room and placing it against the interior wall, away from the window and any possible drafts.    Spying the mattress, he dropped it into the crib and stood back to admire his work.  "Scully, you gotta see this!" he called.
 
Dragging herself to her feet, she joined him in the room.    "It looks great, Mulder.  All it needs is a baby," she added, crossing her arms.
 
"Baby?"  A look of terror passed over his eyes until a happy shriek issued from the other bedroom, just beyond a newly purchased baby gate.  The room was empty, save a few scattered toys and one very boisterous 14-month-old.   
 
"Hey, buddy!  Wanna see what your old man just made for you?"    Mulder cooed to the small boy as he lifted him up over the baby gate and walked with him into the “nursery.”    He lowered him into the crib and William immediately let out a plaintive cry.
 
"He thinks you're putting him down for a nap, Mulder," Scully said with a smirk.
 
"No, buddy, it's not like that," Mulder tried to assure the child.    "You're just checking it out.  See if it passes the old Mulder muster!"   He patted the mattress and shook the bars.    "See?"
 
William stopped squalling long enough to give his father a curious look.    Then he promptly began to jiggle the bars in a similar fashion.
 

"See, that's it," Mulder encouraged.  "Check it out!"
 
By this time, William was bouncing along with the jiggling.     "I think this is a really bad idea," Scully muttered from the doorway.
 
"Ah, Scully, he's a kid!  Let him be a kid.  He'll be fit for society soon enough," Mulder waved off her concern, but lifted the boy out of the crib and set him down on the carpeted floor.   William teetered for a moment and then waddled happily over to Scully, lifting his arms to be picked up. 
 
"Hey, sweetie.  Do you like our new home?" she asked as she wandered back through the small apartment.    In square footage, it was probably smaller than even Mulder's one bedroom apartment back in D.C., but it had two bedrooms and that was what had sold them on it.  "By the way, if 'Bob Vila' is through admiring his handiwork, he could get started on Mommy and Daddy's bed in the other room," she called out loudly enough for Mulder to hear.
 
She put William in his new/used high chair and handed him a graham cracker, which he cheerfully munched.  Setting a Tupperware “sip it” cup filled with cranberry-apple juice on his tray, she went about organizing the kitchen.  In the other room there were a few scuffling sounds, a few loud bangs and much cursing.  Mulder reappeared just minutes later with his index finger planted firmly in his mouth.
 
"How about we go 'commune' and leave the mattress on the floor?" he asked around the obviously injured digit.
 
"You can't get the frame together?" she asked, pulling his finger out of his mouth and examining it in the light over the sink.    Frowning, she rummaged one-handed through a box on the counter, found the first aid kit and deftly applied a Blue's Clues band aid to the injury.
 
"The frame won't go together," he informed her as he watched her tend to his finger.  "There's a part missing."
 
"What part?" she asked, putting the first aid kit in the cupboard above the sink, for easy access.
 
"An important one.  How the hell should I know, Scully?  My apartment was furnished!    And I've learned a vital piece of information concerning used furniture: It never comes with instructions."
 
She leaned against the cupboard and scowled.    "Mulder . . ."
 
"I know, Scully, I know.  We have to reserve our resources.  And I think we did pretty darned well, furnishing this place for under $1000.    I'm just grousing.  Aren't I allowed to grouse a little?"
 
"I guess we can manage on the floor for a while.    Until we can go back to the new and used store and locate the missing part," she said with a wink.
 
"As long as someone is asleep in the next room, with a door between us, I'd sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag," Mulder said, digging through another box until he came up with a plastic cup.  He filled it with water from the tap and drained it in one long gulp, setting it on the counter top empty.
 
"Mulder, I'm sure he won't remember anything about that . . . incident," Scully said, barely containing her giggles.
 
"He thought I was killing you, Scully.  Remember how hard he cried?" Mulder replied, shaking his head.    "I really didn't want his introduction to s-e-x to be so . . . traumatic."
 
"I'm not entirely certain the correct response was to strip him down naked and bring him into bed with us, Mulder, but he's under a year.    He hasn't formed any real memories yet."
 
"Yeah, but I'd rather his first memories aren't 'Mommy does Daddy in a motel room.'"
 
"I believe it was 'Daddy doing Mommy,' but I see your point.    And to be honest, I don't think I could have taken another month on the road.  I want to get out of the car, just for a while."
 
He walked up behind her and pulled her into a hug, her back against his chest.    "You think we'll be safe here?" he asked, kissing her on the crown of her head.
 
"As safe as we are anywhere."  She wrapped her arms around his where they hugged her.    "I don't want William's only memories to be of his car seat and motel portacribs," she whispered.
 
"I know.  Neither do I.    And we got jobs pretty easily," Mulder said, turning her around to face him so he could kiss her on the lips.    "I always wanted to see if sleeping with the professor would improve my grade," he told her, peppering her face with kisses.
 
"Good thing I'm not grading your skills as a carpenter," she told him, kissing him back. 
 
"Haven't you heard?  Psych professors are inherently all thumbs."
 
"And biology professors?" she asked.
 
"Are very good at anatomy, I've been told," he purred, nipping at her ear.    When the sippy cup landed on the floor with a crash, Mulder jerked his head toward their son.    "Gee, Mommy, is it naptime, yet?"
 
She laughed.  "Go tire him out while I finish putting away the dishes.  Then, maybe all of us can go down for naps."
 
"I'm going to hold you to that, Scully!"
 
Oglala Community College,
Kyle, South Dakota
One week later
 
Oglala Community College was a small, two-year college that just happened to need a part-time psychology professor and a full-time biology professor for their campus of a thousand students.  Using credentials supplied by Jeffrey Spender and his associates, Mulder and Scully were employed as Drs. Sherman and Joanna Holmes, with diplomas from The College of St John in Newfoundland.
 
Mulder, or Professor Holmes, as he preferred to be called by his students, had just finished grading a pop quiz from his introduction to psychology class when there was a knock on the door.  Scowling, he opened it to be greeted by his partner and their son.
 
"Daddy duty," Scully announced as she deposited William in his father's arms.
 
"Hey, wait, I don't have duty until 1," Mulder protested, shifting the child from one hip to the other.
 
"Today is Thursday, Mulder.  On Thursdays, I have lab.  And that means you take William from 11:30 to 3, when you have class.    Now, I have to run or I'll be late.    Be good for Daddy," she said, kissing first her son and then her partner and rushing for the door.
 
"But Scully, what about . . . lunch?"  Too late, the words were lost on the wood-and-glass door that she had shut rather forcefully in her haste to get to class.    Mulder raised an eyebrow in the direction of his son.    "So, Mommy's off to class.  It's just you and me, kid.  What say we hit the student center and check out college life?"
 
Oglala Community College Student Center
 
The cafeteria was in the basement of the two-story student center.    There was a food line, which usually offered pretty bland fare, and a row of vending machines along the far wall, to entice young people away from the dietician's idea of a “well balanced meal” with more appealing choices like Trix yogurt and Snicker's ice cream bars.
 
 Institutional-style round tables with mismatched chairs were scattered around the room.  The outside wall, however, was all glass, and afforded a fantastic view of the panorama that was the badlands. 
 
Mulder got a tray and looked over the choices on the line.    Mac-and-cheese was a staple at the college, and he took a plate of that for William, while taking a hot dog and fries for himself.    As an afterthought, he grabbed a banana and an apple out of the bowl near the cash register, two cartons of milk, and a couple of straws.
 
Shifting the baby to one hip, he managed to get both him and the food to a table near the window with spilling a drop.    A student from one of his classes giggled at him and waved to William as they sat down.
 
William wasn't about to sit in a chair by himself, and there were no baby seats in the cafeteria, so Mulder ended up with the child on his lap.    It took some shifting and shuffling, but eventually, they found a comfortable position that allowed William to practice his newly acquired spoon abilities.
 
Mulder munched down his hot dog and snuck a few fries onto his son's plate.    What his partner didn't see wouldn't hurt her when it came to their son, he'd long ago decided.
 
Lunch finished, William wanted to explore.    Mulder cleaned up the paper plates and napkins, keeping a close eye on the small child who was wobbling from one chair to the next in the cafeteria.  When William stopped to flirt with a pretty coed, Mulder determined it was time to collect his son.  He scooped the youngster up into his arms and took him upstairs with him into the college bookstore.
 
The bookstore held a fairly good selection of items beyond the obligatory textbooks, mostly office supplies and bumper stickers sporting the college name and logo.  Mulder nodded and said hello to the clerk, a student in his advanced psych class.    He walked past the standard circular rack of greeting cards for every occasion, most of them yellowed with age.    Sweatshirts with the college mascot hung on a rack on the back wall of the store.  Tucked into a corner was an assortment of Native American knickknacks.    Mulder was looking at the desk calendars next to the knickknacks when he noticed that William had something in his hands, and had started chewing on it, as well.
 
"Hey, buddy, we can't have that!" Mulder scolded gently and pulled the object out of the baby's hands.  William, bereft of his new toy, put up a protest.  "No, William.  We didn't buy that," Mulder tried to reason with his son.
 
"It's a dreamcatcher, Professor Holmes," the young man behind the counter informed Mulder.    "And they're only five bucks.  You can hang it over his bed, it'll give him good dreams."
 
Five dollars seemed a fairly small price to pay to quiet the now-screaming baby.  "OK, you just made a sale," Mulder told the young man.  He pulled his wallet out, deposited a five-dollar bill on the counter, and handed the dreamcatcher back to William.    "But we have to hang it far enough over your crib so you won't be trying to climb up to get it down," he told the baby.
 
"You can hang it on the wall, like a picture.    That's what my mom used to do," the young clerk offered.    "It's just a legend, really.  But you know what you were saying in class, Prof.    The placebo effect and how all it takes is to believe to help a patient cure himself." 
 
Mulder smiled, pleased that at least something he'd said had caught on with the young man.  "Not bad, Steve.    Hope you do as well on the mid-term."
 
"You and me both, Professor Holmes.  You and me both!"
 
The Holmes Apartment
2:55 pm
 
By the time he heard Scully's key in the door at their apartment, he had his jacket on and was halfway out the door.
 
"I'm so sorry," she said, sounding like she'd run up all three flights of stairs.  "We'll have to figure something out for next week.  I thought I could get out of there fast, but I had three students waiting for me . . ."
 
As she leaned down to pick up the toddling William, Mulder kissed her quickly on the top of her head and gave her an understanding smile.    "It's all in the timing.  Maybe next time, William and I can meet you on campus.    Then we just do the baby switch thing and all be on our way."    He was down the stairs before she could answer and she heard his footsteps echo as he ran out the front door.
 
"Baby switch thing?  I don't know about that, William.  I think I like the one we've got," she said, tickling the little boy who had just been thrust into her arms.  "Come help Mommy change and we'll see what afternoon snack we can whip up."
 
Oglala College
Lakota Hall Room 476
 
Mulder dusted the chalk from his hands and turned to face the class just as the bell sounded in the hall.  "Chapter 2 for Tuesday.  And I want all your topics in to my office by Friday the 16th.    If you're having trouble, I have office hours on Monday morning.    I'll return the tests next time."
 
The students filed past his desk.  A couple of the girls whispered to each other, turned to stare at him admiringly, and then broke into giggles as they exited the room.    He shook his head, baffled by their actions, and gathered his notes from the podium.  The tapping on the glass of the classroom door caused him to jerk his head up.
 
"Professor Holmes?"  A uniformed sheriff's officer stood in the door.  Mulder's heart jumped up to his throat.    His mouth wet dry.  He knew he had to say something but he couldn't make his mouth form words.
 
"I'm Sheriff White Eagle.  My son Anthony is in your Deviant Behavior class."
 
A parent.  Mulder almost wilted with relief.  "Sheriff, yes, Anthony.    If this is about the quiz last week . . ."
 
The sheriff chuckled softly.  "Oh, no.  This isn't about any quiz.    I don't think I saw the boy crack a book since the semester started, so if he did poorly, it serves him right.  I got after him over the weekend.  He should straighten up now.  No, this is, well, I guess you might call it an official visit."
 
Mulder's mouth went dry again.   "My wife . . ." he croaked out and the sheriff shook his head emphatically.
 
"Oh, no, Professor, I’m sorry!  Let me explain.  Anthony, well, he might not study much for class, but you are his favorite teacher.    He talks more about you than he did all of his other teachers in high school and grade school put together!    Yes sir, he is sure taken with you," White Eagle said with an affectionate grin.  Then he sobered, and his face fell into a more serious expression.  "No, he mentioned that you have quite a lot of experience in, well, the darker side of the human psyche, if you know what I mean.    I wondered if I could pick your brain a minute?"
 
Mulder felt like he'd been on a rollercoaster set on “kill.”    He nodded toward a couple of desks in the front of the class.    "Mind if we sit down, Sheriff?"
 
White Eagle's smile got much brighter.  "Sure thing.  I promise not to take up too much of your time."
 
The two men got comfortable and White Eagle took out his notebook.    "I've got myself a real quandary and I just don't know which end is up."
 
Mulder didn't say anything - he let the Sheriff tell his story in his own time.
 
"There's been a series of, well, I guess you could call them 'events.'    Some of them are obviously crimes, but some are just plain . . . well, I don't know how to classify them.    But they've been happenin' at night over the last week, and I think they may be connected to the same ' perp.'"
 
Mulder had to sit on his hands to keep from strangling the information out of the man.    "Sheriff, what exactly has been happening?"
 
The sheriff referred to his notebook.  "Monday, last week.  Dog attack."
 
"Excuse me, a dog attacked someone?" Mulder interrupted.
 
"No, a dog was attacked, Professor.  A boy's dog, tied outside the house in the backyard.    The rope was cut, blood on the ground . . ."
 
"A coyote?" Mulder suggested.
 
The sheriff gave him an impatient look.  "The ground was dusty and the only prints were the dog's.    Unless the coyote happened to float over to the dog . . ."
 
"I get your point, sorry I interrupted," Mulder said meekly.
 
"Anyway, a house caught fire - no one was injured, but it sure scared some folks.  Then a car jumped out of gear and rolled down a hill to crash into a tree.    Night after that, a man swore up and down he saw his wife kissing another man in their living room, and she says he's crazy, he fell asleep on the sofa and she went to bed alone that night.    Oh, and a limb fell right off a tree and broke a kid's leg."    He closed his notebook and laid it aside.
 
Mulder licked his upper lip and folded his hands on the top of the desk.    "Sheriff," he started.  "I may not know much about law enforcement, but I don't think I understand how these events could be considered connected, much less, umm, perpetrated by the same unknown person."
 
"Ah, I didn't say it was a person that did all this, now, did I, Professor Holmes?" White Eagle asked grinning broadly.    "I don't think it was a person.  I think it was a witch!"
 
Mulder blinked and hoped he didn't look as befuddled as he felt.    Maybe he'd been right all those years ago in Skinner's office.    Maybe he was “Monster Boy.”
 
"Sheriff White Eagle, if this is a witch, I don't see where I can be of much assistance here at all.  I'm a psychologist . . ."
 
This time, the sheriff laughed and shook his head.    "Professor, a witch is just a woman gone bad!    Sure, they're evil and they have special powers, but if that ain't deviant behavior, I don't know what is!"
 
Mulder was chewing on his lip now.  This was an X-file.  Right here, in the middle of this community college classroom.    And there he was, on the lam, trying to hide himself and his family, trying to fly under everyone's radar . . .
 
"I'm sorry, Sheriff.  I just don't think . . ."
 
"Professor Holmes, I gotta admit, you weren't the first person I thought to ask.  But I called up to the State Police and they laughed themselves silly.    I even thought about calling the FBI, but they're pretty much worthless when it comes to this kind of stuff . . ."
 
Mulder raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, as if considering that statement.
 
"So, when all is said and done, I have to use the resources at my disposal.    And that means you.  I want to put this witch to rest before she goes and does something that really gets somebody hurt!"
 
Mulder sucked on his bottom lip and then let out a slow breath.    "Maybe I could be of some assistance, Sheriff.    If I could, um, go out to the sites of these . . . 'events', and maybe look around."  He shrugged.    "As I said, I don't know much about this sort of thing . . ."
 
The sheriff patted Mulder's shoulder as he stood.    "You'll do just fine, Professor Holmes.    I think Anthony was right about you.    You just seem to have an open mind.    That's what I need right now.  An open mind to look this puzzle over and come up with the solution!    Well, it's gonna be dark soon, so if you have the time, maybe I can take you out tomorrow, if that's all right?"
 
Mulder started to nod, then caught himself.    "Uh, Sheriff, we'll have to do this tomorrow afternoon.    I have class first thing in the morning and then I have to watch our son while my wife is teaching her classes."
 
Sheriff White Eagle nodded.  "Anthony said your wife was a teacher, too.  Sure, we can go out in the afternoon.  No problem.  Should I pick you up around 1:30 at your office?"
 
Mulder nodded enthusiastically.  "That would be fine.  Thanks, Sheriff."
 
White Eagle stuck out his hand.  "Call me Mike, Professor.  I really do appreciate this."
 
"Thanks, Mike, call me . . . Holmes."  It sounded so lame to his own ears.  "Or just Professor will do, too," he added meekly.
 
That got a raised eyebrow from the Sheriff.    "Sure thing.  Well, see you tomorrow, . . . Professor."
 
Mulder nodded and almost collapsed when the sheriff was out of the room.    There was no way he was going to be able to explain this to Scully.
 
Holmes apartment
6:25 pm
 
Scully was scrubbing the white plastic high-chair tray vigorously enough to leave grooves.  Every few seconds, she would cast a glare at Mulder as he stood finishing the dishes.    He remained silent, avoiding her ire, calmly drying the three plates, cups, and silver, and then turning to wash the pots from the spaghetti.
 
"I just can't believe you!" she muttered, next wiping down the table with the same furious motions.  Mulder was somewhat relieved she still had housework to focus some of that pent up frustration on.  He was certain when the kitchen was “ship shape,” he was going to be her next victim.
 
"Scully, like I said, I didn't go looking for this.    The guy walked right into my classroom.    What was I supposed to do, tell him, 'Sorry, Sheriff, but you see my partner, son, and I are all on the lam from this military kangaroo court and this death by lethal injection I have hanging over my head.    So I really can't be involved in your investigation into what is more than likely just the kind of case I used to solve for the FBI'?    How would you want me to handle it, Scully?    Enlighten me, for next time!"   He should have known better than to raise his voice, because now she was giving him that ice-cold look that told him he better dig out a blanket for the couch because that was where he'd be spending the night.
 
"Fox William Mulder," she hissed in a voice just a little under her normal tone.  That was the tone of voice that always sent chills down his spine.  He knew he was in trouble.  "You could have told him you have no interest in hunting down a couple of kids pulling Halloween pranks months ahead of schedule.    Or you could have said you were busy.    Or you could have said a million and one things to get out of it.    You wanted this case, and you know it."
 
He finished the last pot and put it in the cupboard.   Bracing his arms against the counter behind him, he faced her.    "So what if I did want it, Scully?    I admit it, I was intrigued."
 
His honest reply was her undoing.  She knew this day would come.  Months of running, going from town to town.  Not the life she was imagining when she once told him she thought about 'getting out of the car'.  But then, when they had a chance to settle down, to have that normal life if just for a little while . . .  She sighed.    This was life with Fox Mulder, FBI agent/runaway convict and condemned man.  If there was trouble somewhere, it was sure to fall smack dab in his lap.
 
She tucked some hair that had strayed from her ponytail back behind her ear.    "I want you to be careful," she told him sternly.
 
He held his hand up with three fingers forming a salute.
 
"Save it for your new friend, the sheriff, Mulder.    You might fool him, but I'm not buying it.    Now, go get your son ready for his bath."
 
He started to walk past her, but at the last minute grabbed her by the waist and leaned her backward over his arm, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.  When he brought her back to a standing position, she was flushed and her eyes dazed.   
 
"Love me?" he asked.
 
She smirked at him and smacked him lightly on the arm.    "More than I should," she told him.    "Go, the sooner he gets a bath, the sooner he's in bed.    And then we can take a bath."
 
"Agent Scully, I like the way you think."
 
Ellie Twin Rivers home
1:30 pm
 
"Now, Professor, I know you said you've never been to a crime scene, but this isn't a normal crime scene," Mike White Eagle said as they picked their way to the back of the property.  The land around was dry as dust, just barely sustaining a few tumbleweed bushes, still green around the edges.  No trees in the vicinity directly behind the little cottage, but further back, near what Mulder presumed was a small wash or creek, there were a couple of scattered cottonwood trees, their leaves turning a soft yellow in the early fall.
 
"I've seen a lot of cop shows, Mike.  I’m sure I can figure it out," Mulder assured him.
 
"No, that's not exactly what I meant," Mike said, stepping lightly over the rocky terrain that had Mulder turning his ankle with every other step.    "I know this looks like it could be a prank, but I'd be tickled pink if someone would tell me who would pull such a stunt."    He ran his gaze around the surrounding hills and buttes.    "Even for South Dakota, this is the middle of nowhere."
 
Mulder chuckled with the sheriff, and continued to follow his lead.    Finally, they were at a small outbuilding, a shed made of sheet metal and some asphalt shingles that were starting to tear off in the wind.    A length of rope, half an inch in diameter and about 10 feet long lay curled on the dirt ground.  There were dark brown stains in the dirt, Mulder recognized them immediately.    One small print was pressed into the dirt.    He stooped to examine it more closely.
 
"The puppy's," Mike explained when Mulder looked back for confirmation.
 
Mulder nodded and looked over the ground more closely.    To get to the puppy from the stand of trees, the 'perpetrator', which Mulder still figured was another animal, would have to go through a rather bedraggled row of roses.  The rose garden was the only plot of land that looked regularly watered.    Ignoring the creaking of his kneecaps, Mulder stood and went over to look in the dirt around the roses.  It was damp and recently hoed, it would have taken a print easily.    He even stepped his foot on a corner and smiled when his shoe left an almost perfect impression.
 
"No sign of the dog?" Mulder asked.
 
"Jared and Ellie searched all along the wash.    Came up with nothing.  I took a look around, too.  Didn't even find the collar.  If it had been coyote, they would have taken the kill, but they usual feast nearby.    We'd have found bones, the collar, something."
 
Mulder nodded, nonplussed.  Both men turned when they heard someone call out. 
 
"Mike?  You back again?"    A Native American woman in her early thirties, with long dark hair braided over her shoulder, came from the back door of the house.
 
"Hi, Ellie.  We knocked, but . . ."
 
"No, that's OK.  We just got back from town.  Who's your friend?" Ellie looked over Mulder with an appraising eye, and was obviously pleased with what she saw.
 
"Oh, Ellie Twin Rivers, this is Professor Holmes.    He and his wife are teaching up at Oglala College.  He's a psychology teacher," Mike explained.  "Professor, Ellie is the puppy's owner.  She's also my cousin."
 
Ellie held out her hand and gave Mulder a firm shake.    "So, are you here to give me a psych evaluation as to why I bothered the sheriff's department on a missing dog?" she asked with a barely contained grin.
 
Mulder returned the grin with a smile and shook his head.    "No, ma'am.  I have a son, and I figure one of these days we'll end up with a dog.    I'm here to find the dognapper, just like Sheriff White Eagle."
 
At that, Ellie laughed and punched her cousin in the shoulder.    "Where do you find these guys, Mike?    It's like you're a magnet or something!"    She started back toward the house.    "When you're finished out here 'at the scene of the crime, ' c'mon in and have some coffee," she called out over her shoulder.
 
Mike waited until Ellie was out of earshot before he tugged on Mulder's sleeve.  "Ellie's husband died a year ago.  Cancer.    She's raising their two boys by herself and doin' a damn fine job of it, so far.    But getting that puppy was supposed to cheer the boys up, not bring 'em more heartache."
 
Mulder nodded.    How well he understood.  "Do you think we could take the rope back with us?    My wife has a lab at the college, she could take a look at the cut . . ."
 
"Good idea!" Mike grinned.  "Hell, anything, if we can put some ending on this . . ."
 
Untying the rope from the door handle of the shed, Mulder coiled it and stuck it in his back pocket.  "But Mike, would telling them that a witch did this rather than a coyote or a wolf really bring them any better closure?"    The two men trudged up the back porch steps.
 
Mike shrugged.  "I just know I'd want to know," he replied, and held the door open for Mulder.   It was another gut feeling that Mulder was very familiar with.
 
Ellie had coffee and store-bought chocolate chip cookies on the table waiting for them.  Mulder looked around the small kitchen and smiled.  Colorful crayon drawings decorated a small cork bulletin board on the wall and spilled over onto the smooth surfaces of the refrigerator.    Magnetic frames held pictures of two young boys with smiling faces in the arms of Ellie and a tall, dark-haired man.    Other pictures were school pictures of the boys.
 
Mulder looked over when he felt a tug at his pants leg.    "You gonna find Ranger?" asked a boy about seven, Mulder recognized his face from the pictures on the refrigerator door.
 
"Umm," Mulder started to explain, but Mike beat him to it.
 
"Timmy, this is Professor Holmes.  He isn't a policeman.  He's just here to look around, give me some help."
 
"Yes, he is," Timmy replied seriously.
 
"Yes, I'm just here to help Sheriff Mike," Mulder agreed.
 
"No.  Yes, you're a policeman," Timmy said firmly.
 
Mulder flushed and took a gulp of too hot coffee, which did little to cover his discomfort.
 
"OK, you  used to be a policeman," Timmy relented when he noticed Mulder's reaction.    "But you know what happened to Ranger.    You can find him, I bet, if anybody can!"    Then the small boy ran out the back door to play.
 
Ellie stood at the sink, her eyes closed.   "Professor, I am so sorry . . . "
 
"Ellie, think nothing of it.  You know kids, they come up with the darnedest things!" Mulder assured her and tried silently to reassure himself.
 
The three finished their coffee, chatting about the college and Ellie telling Mike that she was going to take some classes but not with coyotes coming into yard and putting the boys at risk.  "I don’t want to move, Mike.  Tim loved this place," she said, wiping at her eyes before lifting up her chin defiantly.    "No damned animal is gonna run me off my own place!"
 
Mike exchanged a look with Mulder.  "We'll get to the bottom of this, Ellie.  I promise."
 
Another boy, about 11, came into the kitchen.    Unlike Timmy, this one had sad eyes and his head bowed so that his chin was almost resting on his chest.
 
"Hey, Jared!" Mike said brightly.  "How's school these days?"
 
Jared pulled out a chair and dropped into it.    "OK, I guess," he answered, and eyed the stranger across the table from him.
 
"Jared's become a real artist since the last time you were here, Mike," Ellie said with a forced smile.  "Jared, go get the dreamcatcher you remade for Timmy.    Show Cousin Mike what you did," she encouraged.   
 
When the boy left the room, Ellie shook her head and wiped at her eyes again.    "It's like right after Tim died, all over again, Mike.    I can't take this any more.  I want something good to happen to him, just once!"    She missed one tear and it streaked down her cheek.    Mike reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
 
"I redid it," Jared said when he returned holding a blue leather dreamcatcher with a large eagle feather attached.    "Ranger . . ."  The boy broke off when his voice cracked, then took a deep breath and started again.    "Ranger chewed it up and I fixed it."
 
Mike took the drea catcher and admired it.    "Wow, Jared!  You did a good job, all right.  Think you can come over to our house and fix some of the stuff Anthony tears up?    Connie would sure like that!" Mike joked.    Casually, he handed the dreamcatcher over to Mulder, who took it politely and examined it with a similar eye.
 
"I just bought one of these in the college bookstore for our son," Mulder nodded.  "I don't remember the hole in the middle being that big."
 
Jared shrugged.  "I ran outta twine," he explained.
 
Mulder handed the object back to the boy.   "You did a good job," he praised him with a smile.
 
Jared shook his head.  "No, I didn't.    I let it out."
 
At that moment, Timmy started squealing from the backyard.    "Momma!  I fell down!"    Ellie looked out the kitchen window and then grabbed a handful of paper towels, wetting a few of them. 
 
"Doctor Mom, to the rescue.  If you gentlemen will excuse me," she called over her shoulder as she ran out the back door.
 
"Jared, what did you mean, 'you let it out'?" Mulder asked, trying to catch the boy's eye.
 
"The bad dream.  Timmy's bad dream.    It didn't stay caught.  It got out."
 
Mulder chuckled nervously.  "Jared, that's just a legend.  I mean, sure, dreamcatchers are pretty powerful magic, but you can't really catch dreams in them.  They just make you feel better, and then you sleep better with no bad dreams."
 
Jared shook his head again, this time tipping his chin up to look Mulder in the eye.  "I heard it.    When I was sleeping, it woke me up.    And then it went outside and it got Ranger."
 
Mike was watching the boy with barely concealed concern.    Mulder decided he might as well go along for the ride.    "Jared, what did you hear?"
 
"It was a noise.  Like the wind, but it was cold and that night was really hot, we had the windows open.    It felt like a bad scare, you know, down my back.    I was so scared I couldn't move.    I wanted to go over and make sure Timmy was okay, but I just couldn't move."
 
Mulder nodded in understanding.  He knew that feeling all too well as a child.
 
"But then I heard Ranger out in the backyard and I knew that thing had gothim.  I yelled for Mom and we went out back.  She made me go in and then she came back in and told me Ranger ran off, but I went out the next day and saw the collar.  Ranger didn't run off.  That dream got him."
 
Mike shook his head and put his hand on Jared's shoulder.    "Jared, what the Professor is telling you is true.    Bad dreams don't kill puppies.  But we'll find out who did, OK?"
 
Jared wiped his nose on the sleeve of his tee shirt, nodding solemnly at his older cousin.
 
"Now, you run along and we'll get back to our investigation," Mike said, standing and taking his empty coffee cup to the sink.   Mulder followed suit and soon the two men were making their goodbyes to Ellie, who was just finishing up Timmy's bandaged knee.
 
She stood and shook Mulder's hand in the same firm grip she used earlier.  "Thanks for stopping by.  It makes the boys feel better that you appear to be taking this so seriously, Mike," she added with a sad smile.
 
"I do take this seriously, Ellie," he promised, and pulled his cousin in a friendly hug.  "Hey, how about you and boys come over to dinner Friday?  I'll grill steaks."
 
"Tell Connie I'll bring the seven-layer dip," Ellie said, forcing another smile.
 
"You're on.  See you about 6:30 Friday."
 
Mulder was lost in thought by the time they were on the road again.  
 
"So, what do you think, Professor?  A witch, right?"
 
Mulder snapped his head over to look at Mike.    "You still think this is a witch?"
 
Mike shrugged.  "Sure!    I mean, this is just the first house.    When we get to the other places, you'll see this couldn't have been a bad dream."
 
Mulder nodded, but wasn't entirely convinced his new friend was on the right path.
 
Oglala College Science Building
5:35 pm
 
"You want me to autopsy a piece of rope?" Scully asked derisively as she looked up into the hopeful eyes of her partner.    Mulder was trying to ignore their son's playful attempts to climb onto his back and look like it was a perfectly normal request.
 
"Not autopsy, Scully.  I just need you to examine it and tell me if you think . . ." He let his voice trail off, hoping she would pick up his thoughts before he was forced to voice them.
 
An Introduction to Physical Sciences class from Hell and a son who had decided to rearrange her bottom cabinets while she worked on her lesson plan had Scully with one raw nerve and Mulder had placed his foot dead on it.    She folded her arms over her chest and gave him an elegant raised eyebrow.
 
"See if it looks . . . strange," he finally conceded.
 
"Strange," she repeated.  "Strange as in what implement, otherworldly or perfectly mundane but unusual under the circumstances, was used to cut the rope?"
 
"I'll fix dinner," he offered.
 
"It's your turn tonight anyway," she countered, but picked up the rope and sighed.  "Take our Martha Stewart wannabe back home and start dinner.  I'll be home as soon as I check this out."
 
He kissed her quickly and hurried out the door before she could come to her senses.
 
Her voice called him back.  "Mulder.    If we have Italian one more night, I'm not going to leave any evidence of the murder," she said sweetly.
 
He was all the way out in the hall and he gave William a little tickle so that baby laughed with glee.  "Wait till she sees our Tex-Mex, buddy."
 
A few hours later, the dinner dishes were washed and put away, William was playing quietly, for once, in the living room with his blocks and Scully had the rope lying on their table, on top of several days’ New York Times.  She picked up the cut end with one latex gloved hand and held a magnifying glass up to it with the other, so that her partner could see what she was describing.
 
"It was cut," Mulder repeated, squinting at the image in the glass, finally taking the magnifier out of her hands and holding it at a distance he could better see.  "Scissors, knife, what did it?"
 
Scully relinquished the magnifier and sat back with a sigh.    "That, I can't determine.  It's not like a wound, Mulder.  There just isn't enough to make that determination.    But I can tell you this: It wasn't chewed through."
 
"Then we can call the coyote’s defense counsel and tell them their client’s off the hook," Mulder said with a scowl.
 
"The sheriff came up with the 'witch' explanation?" Scully asked, incredulous.
 
He shot her a look.  "Contrary to popular belief, I was not the only crackpot in law enforcement," he said dryly.
 
"No, just the one with the cutest butt," she smiled and got the reaction she was hoping for, a smile in return.
 
"Cutest butt?"
 
"Oh, yeah.  And that red swimsuit should be hanging in the FBI Hall of Fame," she added, getting up to get a glass of iced tea.
 
"So, you think someone deliberately cut the rope and made off with Ranger?" Mulder asked, nodding when she silently offered him a glass.
 
"That's what it looks like, Mulder."
 
"In an area where dogs are a dime a dozen, where we see 'free puppies to good homes' fliers tacked on every bulletin board at the college, where . . ."
 
"Mulder, I can't give you motive!  I can only tell you what I think."
 
He nodded again and took a long drink from his glass.    "But that doesn't come close to explaining the other events."
 
"What?  A poorly maintained transmission that jumped a gear, a wife with an overactive imagination, and some kids playing with matches?" Scully asked a bit too sternly for even her liking.    She softened at his stubborn expression.    "Mulder, I know how much you'd like to turn this into an X-file . . ."
 
"We left the X-Files behind, Scully.  I'm fine with that, really I am.  I'm happy with what I have here, every day."
 
She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips.    "But as happy as you are, it's not a betrayal to miss the old days."
 
"Oh, you mean those days when first you and then I were taken for months and returned more dead than alive, when my father was killed and your sister was murdered and we were constantly running up against people who were ready to kill us, even if it meant a trumped up murder charge and lethal injection?" he shot back, still stinging from her remark.    Her eyes darkened and she stared down at the tabletop, silent.    This time, he realized he'd crossed the line and took her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to place a sweet kiss on her palm.    "That was uncalled for.  I'm sorry."
 
"So if it's not coyotes and you don't seem to think it's a witch, what is your theory, Agent Mulder," she asked with a shy smile that told him he was forgiven.
 
Once again he was reminded why he'd go to the ends of the earth for this woman.  "Well, Agent Scully, I think Jared was on to something."
 
"The bad dream that got away?"
 
He nodded twice. 
 
"But Mulder, I still don't see where that explains the other events."
 
He frowned and ran a hand over his chin.  He picked up the rope and stared at it, as if it could answer his questions.   "I don't know yet, Scully, but I will."
 
Next morning
9:20 am
 
The phone rang just minutes after Scully had hurried out the door the next morning.  Mulder, still in his pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, was wiping oatmeal and applesauce off their son's smiling face.  He grabbed for the phone from the wall inside the kitchen as he set William down on the floor to toddle off to his new favorite toys, his mother's pots and pans in the cupboards.
 
"Hello," Mulder answered, figuring it had to be the college.    The secretary of the Psychology Department seemed to lose every test he gave her to copy.
 
"Professor, I'm glad I finally reached you.    You sure do have a weird schedule!"
 
Mulder chuckled.  "That I do, Mike.    Better than bankers’ hours.  What can I do for you?"
 
"Well, I got some bad news.  My cousin Ellie . . . aw, hell, this is a real mess!    I'm over here at her place and the kids are crying . . ."
 
"Mike, what happened?" Mulder asked, feeling the other man's panic radiating through the phone line.
 
"It's just crazy!  Ellie wouldn't do anything like this.  I've known her since she was a baby.  She wouldn't leave her boys!"
 
"Ellie's gone?" Mulder prodded.  By this time, he stopped trying to clean off the tray to the high chair and was intent on the conversation.
 
"The boys woke up and she was gone.  Jared called my wife Connie and she called me.    Damn thing is, Ellie's car is in the driveway, her clothes are all here, and when I got here, the door was locked and dead bolted on the inside.   The boys tell me they didn't hear a thing!"   There was a moment of silence, Mulder got the impression the sheriff was waiting for a time when no one was listening.   "I think the witch got her," he said in a voice just above a whisper.
 
Mulder knew he had to get over there, and quickly.    He glanced around the kitchen.  William had a saucepan in one hand and lid to a different pot in the other, clanging them together in a pre-school version of cymbals.    Scully was already at her class, a quick look at the clock on the microwave confirmed that.  Yep, he was on his own. 
 
"Mike, I'll be right over, but, um, I'll have my assistant with me," Mulder told the sheriff.
 
"Assistant?" Mike echoed.
 
"Yeah, I'm just breaking him in.  My 14-month-old son, William."
 
Mike understood immediately.  "I don't that will be a problem, Professor.  Connie's here with the boys, I didn't want to scare 'em more by draggin' 'em out of their house.   I'm pretty sure it's safe here."
 
"Thanks, Mike.  One more thing," Mulder hesitated, but there was no getting around it.    "Could you send someone over to pick us up?    My wife has the car."
 
The boys were watching TV, and Connie was more than happy to play with little William, allowing Mulder and Mike to go over the house with a fine tooth comb.
 
"Window screens all in place, doors all locked, there is just no way for her to leave without opening something," Mike was saying in a hushed voice.
 
Mulder nodded absently.  He had gone through Ellie's room a couple of times, searching through the closet and looking for a possible loose board in the floor that might lead to the crawlspace under the house.  He was completely baffled.
 
"Mike, tell me about this witch theory a little more," he said, finally leaning against the wall in the hallway, well out of earshot of the children in the living room.
 
The sheriff took a deep breath.  "It's an old legend.  There was a witch, jealous of a beautiful maiden.  She disguised herself as a mound of earth."
 
"There are a couple of those around," Mulder interrupted with a smile.
 
"A few," Mike returned, smiling back.  "So the maiden was passing by the earth mound and the witch rose up and snatched her into the earth."
 
"Is this the part where the beautiful maiden's very strong boyfriend comes by and beats the crap out of the earth mound hiding witch?" Mulder asked innocently.
 
"You're heard this story?" Mike replied hopefully.
 
"Mike, I hate to tell you, but that legend doesn't seem to apply here," Mulder said with a sigh.
 
"She didn't just run off," Mike repeated for the fifth time that day.    "She wouldn't do that to her kids.    Not after Tim died and left them alone.    She would never do that."
 
"Timmy dreamed it," Jared said.  The boy had been on his way to the bathroom when he overheard the two men talking.
 
"Timmy dreamed what?" Mike asked tiredly.
 
"Timmy dreamed that Mom went away, like Dad did," Jared replied, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  "I shoulda thought more of it, but when he crawled into bed with me it was the middle of the night."
 
"Another bad dream," Mulder muttered.
 
"Jared, Timmy didn't make your Mom go away," Mike reassured the boy.    "We'll figure it out . . ."
 
"Jared," Mulder interrupted.  "Did Timmy ever dream about Ranger?"
 
Mike looked at him like he'd just suggested aliens had taken Ellie, but Mulder plowed on.
 
"Does he tell you his dreams?"
 
Jared shrugged.  "Sometimes.    The really bad ones he's too scared to tell me.    But sometimes he'll tell me when we wake up.    If he can remember 'em, that is."
 
"Did he dream about Ranger?" Mulder asked again.
 
Jared thought for a moment.  "Yeah, he did.  But I thought he made it up.    Wait a minute," he said looking up with as much anger as an 11-year-old could muster.  "Are you saying . . ."
 
"Jared, you said it yourself the last time I was here.    You told us that a bad dream got Ranger.    Maybe it was Timmy's bad dream," Mulder explained hastily.
 
"But Timmy wouldn't want . . ."
 
"Of course not!  Timmy never wanted any thing to happen to Ranger or to your mother, but we can't help what we dream.  We can't help what scares us the most, our greatest fears."
 
"And the dreamcatcher didn't catch it!" Jared declared triumphantly.  But his victory was short lived and his face fell into a mask of despair.    "So it wasn't Timmy, it was me.  I killed Ranger and made Mom go away!"
 
Mulder put his hand on the young boy's shoulder.    "But maybe there's a way to deal with this.    Jared, I don't think your mom is gone very far.    And I don't think Ranger is far away, either."
 
Jared looked at him dubiously, while Mike just stared, open-mouthed.
 
"I know how it sounds, but hear me out.  What happens when a dream gets caught in a dreamcatcher ?" Mulder asked Jared seriously.
 
The boy chewed on his lip for a minute before answering.    "The dream gets caught and then when the sun comes up, it just goes away.  Like a vampire caught in the sun.  It just burns up or something."
 
Mulder nodded in agreement.  "But if the dreamcatcher doesn't hold it . . ."
 
"The dream comes true?" Jared whispered hesitantly.
 
"Or seems to be true," Mulder corrected.  "Maybe we just need to help the dreamcatcher along."
 
"Or maybe the dreamcatcher was the problem to begin with," Jared declared, breaking into a run toward his room.    He returned quickly with the remade dreamcatcher in his hands.  "We gotta destroy it!" he told the two men excitedly.
 
Mike frowned and Mulder seemed unsure.  It was Timmy's arrival that surprised them all.    With tears still drying on his cheeks, the little boy took the dreamcatcher and turned it over in hands.    He looked up at Mulder and Mike with eyes much older than seven years, and in a voice that matched his eyes in wisdom, he said, "It has to be destroyed."
 
Mike seemed to stop breathing for a minute, but finally drew in a deep breath.    "Whoa."
 
Mulder looked over at him and touched his shoulder.    "You OK?"
 
Mike nodded.  "It's just    . . . wow.  Right then Timmy sounded just like . . ."
 
"Grandpa," Jared supplied and Mike nodded in agreement.    "Our grandpa was a shaman.  He died when I was little, the summer Timmy was born."
 
Mulder stuck his tongue firmly into his cheek and nodded.    "OK, then.  Timmy, how should we destroy the dreamcatcher?"
 
Timmy looked at the hoop in his hands and then handed it solemnly to Mulder.    "Fire," he said in that same old sounding voice.
 
"Fire it is," Mulder said and looked over at Mike.    "Lead the way, Sheriff."
 
"You're n-n-not suggesting . . ." Mike stammered.
 
"Mike, if you have a better idea, I'm willing to listen.    But right now, I think we'd lose nothing by doing as Timmy suggests."
 
"And I thought my idea was crazy," Mike muttered as he led the way through the house.  Connie noticed the parade and started to follow, but at one look from Mike, she hugged William to her and retreated into the living room, drawing the baby's attention to Blue's Clues on the TV.
 
Outside, the sky looked ominous, the wind had whipped up from the west and was blowing dust in swirls around the grass bare backyard.    "Over there," Timmy directed and the three headed toward the copse of trees by the wash.  A few yards from the trees, Timmy stopped.  He took the dreamcatcher from Mulder's hands and looked over at Jared.    "Build a little fire," he told his brother.   
 
Jared scampered off to find brush and twigs under the trees.
 
"You think it's a good idea to start a fire?" Mike whispered to Mulder.    "In this wind, a brushfire would be a real catastrophe."
 
"I have a feeling Timmy can handle this," Mulder whispered back.    Mike stared at him again, with that same “all the nuts must go into psychology” look Mulder had seen before.
 
It didn't take long to start the fire, and soon there was a nice little blaze growing.  Timmy nodded to Mulder, even if a grandfatherly shaman ghost was channeling his actions, the boy knew he couldn't get too close to the fire.   Mulder stepped forward and leaned over to place the dreamcatcher on the fire.
 
A sudden gust of wind swirled dirt into his eyes, and Mulder almost fell forward on the fire.    A strong arm grabbed him back and steadied him.    The wind continued to grow in strength and Mulder grabbed for Timmy and Jared and tried to head back to the house.    Mike was trying to stamp out the fire when a lightning bolt struck the ground just inches from his feet.
 
He was thrown back in the direction of the house, and landed on his back.    Mulder started to go back, but when he saw the big man roll over and stand, he tugged the boys closer and made for the back door.
 
It was over as quickly as it started.  As Mulder stepped into the kitchen, the wind died down and the dust settled.    All over the kitchen, a fine coating of tan dirt covered every surface, blown in from the open windows. 
 
"Oh my god, I'm going to have to scrub everything!"
 
Mulder looked over in shock to find Ellie standing in the doorway to the kitchen, fists on hips, a scowl on her face.    "Boys, why didn't you close the windows?"
 
"Mama!" squealed Timmy, who broke free from Mulder's grasp and ran across the room to throw his arms around his mother's waist.
 
"Mom!" yelled Jared, a huge grin spreading across his face as he ran to his mother's arms.
 
"What is the matter with you two?  You'd think I'd up and disappeared!"
 
Connie was standing in the living room, rocking a sleeping William with a wild eyed look on her face.  "Right in the middle of the storm, she just walked out of the bedroom like nothing ever happened.  It was the damn . . . er, darnedest thing!" she muttered as she handed Mulder his son.
 
Mulder was about to answer when there was a scuffle at the back door.    Mike appeared, carrying a slightly battered Ranger in his arms.    The puppy squirmed, jumped out of Mike's grasp and ran to Jared, then proceeded to pee right on the kitchen floor.
 
"Jared, that dog!" Ellie moaned, but Jared and Timmy couldn't stop laughing.    They both hugged Ranger and then hurried back to hug their mother once again before running after the puppy, who was making a bee line for their bedroom.
 
"Mike, I'm happy you and Connie dropped by, but I don't know what all the commotion is about," Ellie said, a bewildered look on her face.
 
Mike opened his mouth and then closed it quickly.    "We uh, we just decided to drop by.    Well, guess we'll be going now."    He ushered Connie and Mulder with William out to the squad car in the driveway.
 
"Mike, what just . . ."
 
"I don't think we have a really good explanation, Mrs. White Eagle," Mulder intercepted Connie's question.  "But it appears that everything is back in order.    Oh, and you might have Anthony pick up a dreamcatcher , a real one, at the college bookstore."
 
Mike laughed all the way to the main road.
 
Holmes residence
9:55 pm
 
Scully was on the bed rubbing lotion on her legs when Mulder tiptoed in from the hallway.
 
"He's out," he whispered to her as he almost silently closed the door.
 
"He was tired.  All that ghostbusting today really wore him out," she teased.
 
"We weren't ghostbusting," Mulder informed her.   "And no toddlers were harmed in the commission of my duties."
 
"So tell me again what happened?"
 
"As near as I can tell, when the dreamcatcher was destroyed, it destroyed the bad dreams. Everything went back to the way it was," Mulder said, turning off the overhead light, leaving just the little lamp by the bed illuminated.
 
"And the car that jumped gears, the house that caught fire, the woman and her husband . . .?"
 
"Bad transmission, faulty wiring, and, it looks like, divorce court, respectively," Mulder admitted.  "But the good news is both Ranger and Ellie are back home, safe and sound.    I solved another one, Scully!  Another notch on the old belt."
 
"I wasn't aware that solving dog disappearances was in the job description for Associate Professor of Psychology," she replied dryly.   
 
Mulder made quick work of his clothes and was soon crawling under the blankets on his side of the bed.  He reached over and rubbed her back watching her as she stretched like a cat.
 
"One thing I have to say for these kinds of investigations," he said as he continued to work on her shoulders, smiling as she all but melted back into his arms.
 
"Yeah?" she murmured.
 
"Absolutely no paperwork," he whispered and started laying soft kisses at the nape of her neck.
 
"Oh yeah," she sighed and turned around so that she could capture his mouth in hers.  She bit down a little too hard on his bottom lip and he drew back.
 
"What was that for?" he demanded.
 
"That was for taking our son on an X-file," she answered curtly, and then grabbed him behind his head and drew him down to her lips again.    After kissing him soundly, enough to make him totally forget her little love bite, she continued.  "For taking our son . . . and not taking me!"
 
As he rolled her on to her back and continued his progression of kisses he smiled down at her.  "Never again," he vowed.  "Next time, we all go."    He pulled the covers over them both and their quiet laughter and pleasured moans echoed off the darkened walls.
 
In the room next door, William whimpered for a second but didn't open his eyes.  Something dark rose up from just above his head and became entangled in the twine and feathered hoop hanging over his crib.  William's face relaxed and he dropped deeper into slumber, a wisp of a smile on his little face.