It had been two days since the demon's near-demise at the hands of one of its own 'children,' and Sam and Dean were finally packed and ready to get the hell outta dodge. Even though every member of the cult had been killed that night, they weren't going to be taking any chances.
There was just one thing that Sam had to do before they left, and Dean was more than happy to wait in the car while he did it. A church was the last place he wanted to be at the moment. Sure, God had, apparently, come through for him in the end (because it had to be God. The alternative was Sam, and that would mean…), but he'd been stripped of his wings and they freedom they'd brought. Dean figured it was understandable if he wasn't exactly in a worshipping mood.
Sam was more than happy to let his brother stay in the car. Hell, he probably would have let Dean yodel to the oldies if the spirit had moved him. The younger Winchester had recently gained a greater appreciation of his older sibling, and was currently feeling a little more generous when it came to what the elder wanted. No more talk of school, no more 'I wanna be normal.' It was going to be all about the family, come hell or high water.
Or demons trying to get their children back, his mind hissed coldly. He hadn't told Dean he'd been initiated into the cult, and was kind of hoping that his brother would never have to find out. Besides, as long as Dean never asked, it wasn't like Sam was lying, right? Right.
Sammy walked through the doors and back into the church, looking for Father Emerson. He wanted to, at least, thank the man that had helped teach him the value of family. Instead of the kindly old priest, though, Sam found a young black man kneeling in the front pew.
"Excuse me," Sam said quietly, walking up to the stranger, "but where's the priest? I need to talk to him about something."
"That would be me," the young man said, turning to face the hunter, "what can I do for you?"
"Um, actually, I was looking for Father Emerson."
"Yeah," Sammy nodded, "he helped me out a while back, and-"
"Son, there's never been a Father Emerson here, at least not to my knowledge. Are you sure you got the name right?"
The priest shook his head. "Well, I don't know him. Don't even have any parishioners by that name."
"Oh," Sam muttered, turning slowly back toward the doors, "well, thanks anyway."
"You're welcome," the priest called back, "hope you find who you're looking for."
Sam, nodded and left the church. Was it possible that he'd imagined the kind old man, or was there some supernatural force at work? Maybe he'd been an angel. Weirder things had happened that week.
Sighing, Sam pulled open the Impala's door and slid in. He glanced over at his brother, who started the car. "Ready to go, Psychic Boy?"
Sammy nodded. "Yeah. Let's get out of here. Before something else goes wrong."
Dean grinned and pulled out of the church parking lot and onto the main road in the small town, heading toward the city where he'd first met Holly Monroe.
Charles Emerson, 70 years old and still dowsing like a pro, walked into the street as the '67 Chevy drove toward the city. He grinned. "Yes," he said clearly into the cell phone, "yes, they just left. Heading east." He nodded as he received his instructions. "Yes, I'll be there. I understand. Don't worry, father, we'll get him, and his guardian angel, too."
Ok, Ok. You got me. There's a sequel currently in the works, but don't expect it for a good, looooong while, cuz I have a ton of homework to do and very little time to do it!