Disclaimer: Not mine, just for fun.
A/N: Written for a very lovely person on LJ who just got ordained.

by CaffieneKitty

"Pastor Jim?" piped a voice from the doorway of the small front office.

Jim placed a finger on the passage he'd been trying to incorporate into Sunday's sermon and turned his attention to John Winchester's youngest son. "Yes, Sam?"

"What's 'omnius' mean?"


"Yeah, omni-" Sam's face squished up in concentration. "Om-in-us. What's it mean?"

"It's like 'threatening'. Like something bad is going to happen."

Sam's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh!"

Great job, Murphy. Scare a four-year-old with a vocabulary lesson. "Well, not bad bad, necessarily. When there's big dark clouds in the sky and there's a storm coming, some people will say the clouds look ominous, because it's threatening to rain. See?"

"Oh," Sam said, looking back over his shoulder towards the toys from the church daycare scattered on the vestibule carpet.

Jim turned to put a bookmark over the passage he had still been marking with his finger and turned back. "Why do you ask-" he began, but Sam had turned and run back into the vestibule, sock feet thudding on the patterned carpet.

Probably just as well he'd gone off to play again. Asking little Sam Winchester why he'd asked a question was as pointless as wondering if the sun would rise in the morning. Sam would ask questions. That was Sam.

Dean was currently registered at Blue Earth Elementary since the Winchesters were roosting for a while; no doubt he was at that moment figuring out new and inventive ways of getting kicked out of second grade, so he could be home with Sam in case their dad came back in the middle of the day, and so he could field his brother's questions.

There was rattling in the vestibule and Jim looked up to see Sam crouched down next to a pile of Lego bricks, using a hobby horse to herd them closer together and frowning intently.

With a temporary lack of Dean to ask questions, Sam asked Pastor Jim. Yesterday they'd covered why the moon changed shape all the time, what gravity was and why it couldn't stop for a little while so someone could get the toy airplane off the roof next door, and why Miss Stacey who sometimes played the church organ always wore a hat with a dead bird on it.

Sam dropped the horse suddenly and scampered back to the doorway of Jim's office.

"Pastor Jim?" Sam was still frowning, and kept glancing back towards the vestibule.

"Yes Sam?"

With a grave expression, Sam whispered, "Is something bad gonna happen to the Legos?"

Pastor Jim blinked. "What?"

Sam peered back over his shoulder to the pile of toys that Jim now noted contained most of the Lego and Duplo sets from the Sunday School and daycare rooms.

"Is something bad gonna happen to the Legos?" Sam repeated in a nervous whisper, "Or is something bad gonna happen to me if I play with the Legos?"

Not having an answer to a question he didn't understand was not a new thing to Pastor Jim. "What makes you think that, Sam?"

"Because they're om-in-us."

Jim looked over the top of Sam's head at the pile of bright plastic bricks in the sunny vestibule, herded together by the hobby horse. They were about the least ominous thing in the old church.

"They don't look ominous to me Sam."

Sam turned to face Jim quickly. "But you said! You and dad!"

Jim quickly searched his memory, but had no recollection of claiming any child's toy portended evil. At least not recently, and certainly not within Sam's hearing. That thing with the cursed Russian nesting doll set had been over three months ago, and that had been Bobby Singer's.

"When was this, Sam?"

"After dinner, when you're showing dad those words, it's at the end. You say it every the time! Right near the end: In fern Alice, add verse airy, om-in-us Lego!"

Pastor Jim burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh! Oh Sam. That's not about Lego!"

"It's not? The Legos aren't om-in-us?"

"No, no. The worst they do is hurt your foot if you step on them in your sock feet." Or choke you if you swallow them but let's not go planting any ideas in little heads.

"Oh. So... if it's not about Legos, what's it mean? What's the thing that's om-in-us?"

Jim looked at Sam's earnest face. Sam was John's child, and John had laid out the differing 'need-to-know' rules for his children with crystal clarity. "...it's part of... it's something like a prayer. It's in Latin."


"An old language. But very useful. That 'ominous Lego' part is actually 'omnis legio'"

"What's that mean?"

"... every legion. A legion is like an army," he added, anticipating another question.

"Oh." Sam bit his lip in thought. "Dad was in the Marines."

"That he was."

"He doesn't like the Army much. Is the prayer to keep the Army away?"

"...No..." Not the army of any earthly nation at least.

Sam sat on a box of hymnals. "Can you teach it to me?"

Jim took a breath and let it out slowly. "...it's a special kind of prayer, Sam. See, sometimes words have a lot of power-"

"Like the words Dean used that got him sent out of school last week?"

"Er." Comparing a 17th century exorcism to four-letter words most adults were not happy to hear coming from any second-grader seemed a trifle blasphemous for a sunny Tuesday afternoon. "No. That's very different. It's a very serious prayer, and only to be used at certain times."

Sam opened his mouth and inhaled a breath that Jim knew would be released in the form of questions Jim wouldn't want to weigh a four-year-old down with answers to, whether John permitted it or not. He forestalled the oncoming storm of questions with a final, "It's complicated."

The breath was released in a sigh as world-weary as only a four-year-old used to never getting a straight answer could draw up. "Everything's 'compulcated'" Sam muttered, frowning at his feet.

"Very true." More than you know, kiddo. I'm sorry.

Sam sat silent for a while, frowning and tracing part of the carpet patterning with a sock-covered toe before glancing back to the pile of toys, still under the guard of the hobby horse. "So the Legos are okay?"

"Perfectly fine, Sam."

Sam hopped off the box of hymnals and scurried back to the vestibule. Jim watched him poke the pile with the horse once more before flopping onto the carpet to paw through the plastic bricks.

How John Winchester expected to keep a curious and perceptive child innocent of hunting when he was dragging the boys all over God's green earth with him, hunting for his wife's killer, Jim hadn't the slightest idea.

Jim turned back to his desk and reopened the Bible.

Now, the real trouble was, when he and John went through the Rituale Romanum again tonight, how on Earth was he going to keep a straight face when John got to the part about the 'ominous Lego'?

(that's it)

Post A/N: Latin and latin translation from Super-Wiki, the awesome Supernatural Wiki site