As It Was - Dean Winchester

Part 33

After speaking to the priest, he followed us out of the large stone building. The road that was right outside was heavy with traffic, and rainwater splashed up on the sidewalk as cars drove by.

"Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father," Sam spoke as we walked down the church's steps. 

"Oh, it's my pleasure. Hope to see you again," Father Reynolds smiled.

"Hey, Father, what's, what is all that for?" Dean asked, pointing down the steps to where someone had left candles, flowers, and other tributes. I hadn't seen them on the way in, probably too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice. 

The thought made me scan my surroundings for threats, afraid of what else I might have missed.

"Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here."

"Was?" Dean picked up.

"He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt."

"When did this happen?" Dean and I shared a look, both thinking the same thing.

"Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys," father Reynolds explained with a sad smile.

"I'm sorry," Sam told him, a crease appearing on his forehead.

"Yeah, me too. He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died, I've been praying my heart out." 

"For what?" Sam asked.

"For deliverance. From the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I s'pose." 

"Well, Padre, thanks. We'll see you again." We took turns shaking his hand, and then the priest walked back inside. I wasted no time walking over to the shrine, picking up the picture placed among the candles and flowers. Dean and Sam joined up by my side, looking at the same picture I was. 

"This clears things up. It all fits. The priest died before the first murders started. He died a violent death and was devoted to the church of the angels or whatever," I began, turning to look at the Winchester brothers. Dean nodded in agreement, but Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"And he knew all the other stiffs because they went to church here." Dean continued for me. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew."

"Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started happening?"

"Aw, come on, man, what's your deal?" Dean complained, and I was glad he did, or I would have lost my patience. 

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a skeptic, but since when are you all Mr., uh, 700 Club?" Sam rolled his eyes. "No, seriously," Dean continued. "From the get-go, you've been willing to buy this angel crap, man. I mean, what's next, are you going to start praying every day?" Dean put down the picture back among the candles.

"I do," Sam declared. 

"What?" Dean turned back to him in disbelief.

"I do pray every day. I have for a long time."

"The things you learn about a guy," Dean commented, looking a bit startled, and then turned to me. "You gonna tell me you do too?"

"I think we all know I don't," I snarled back, unable to hide my skepticism.