Chapter Text
Jim Murphy woke up in the small hours, from the sound of a car stopping outside his front door. He pulled the pillow over his head, imagining for a moment that he'd just not hear anything, that he wouldn't get up, wouldn't open the door, wouldn't listen. But, such was the job that had signed him up. He dropped the pillow on the floor, found his thick, full-length dressing robe, and went to answer.
Outside stood John Winchester: brown leather jacket, deep creases around his eyes, a large bundle pressed tight to his chest. Beside him a smaller figure, with two heavy-looking duffel bags, peered up at Jim.
"Jim, I'm sorry about this." John took the liberty to walk straight in. "I almost had it. I need to go back and find the trail while I can."
"And in the meantime..." Jim gestured towards the two boys, the one sleeping in his father's arms, and the one not sleeping at all just inside the door. "It's okay. Can I at least offer you a late night snack?"
"No. I'm just dropping these two off." John set off in the direction of Jim's guest room.
Jim let him take care of himself, and turned to Dean. "How about I take those?" He pried the bags from the boy's hands. "Come on. It's this way."
John was sitting on the edge of the bed under the small window. He didn't look up when Jim came in, just tucked the blanket tight under Sammy's chin, and rested his hands next to the pillow. "Mistake. I shouldn't have taken them."
"They're safe now."
John rose. "Maybe a little safer. I'll use your bathroom if you don't mind, then I'm off." He walked out, just exchanging one look with Dean as he went past.
Jim pulled the cover off the other bed. "This one's for you, then. Will you be okay?"
Dean just nodded.
****
Jim didn't bother going back to bed; he dozed for a couple of hours in an armchair in the living room. When he felt that his eyes were going to stay open on their own, he rose, went to the kitchen, and put on coffee. Then he sat down and waited. It wasn't long before the crack in the door widened slightly, and his two guests came sneaking in.
"Good morning, Dean and Sammy", Jim said.
Dean replied with a polite: "Good morning, Pastor Jim." He nudged his brother until he repeated the greeting.
"I was about to make breakfast." Jim was looking through the pantry. "Do you want eggs?"
He showed the boys where to find a suitable saucepan and put the egg carton on the counter. Dean lifted the lid. "There's four."
"Let's boil all of them, then."
"Yes, sir."
Between them, they laid the table with milk and apple juice, bread, butter and ham, a leftover tomato, the four eggs, and the coffee pot. Jim said a quick prayer, watched by two pairs of round eyes. "There you go." He took the juice carton and started to pour for Sammy. Dean helped himself to a ham sandwich and a boiled egg.
****
He took them to church, because there wasn't really anywhere else, and he had some catch-up paperwork to do. He left the door to the office wide open, and they both seemed fine, curled up in the back pew, with paper and crayons for Sammy, and some old schoolbooks for Dean. For an hour or so, everything was quiet. Then Lisa Hill from the Thursday group showed up with her two youngest in tow.
Lisa stopped for a moment, when she saw strangers in the church. She tried to appaer casual as she went to light a candle, looking like she was just passing by. Her lips moved, maybe in prayer, maybe just moving, it was hard to tell with Lisa. Jim knew she probably had a different errand.
She returned his good morning wish almost inaudibly. Jim crouched down for a little: "Hello, Millie, Kathy. How are you today?"
"I'm fine, thank you", Kathy replied. Millie turned her head in surprise at hearing her name, but immediately went back to watching the boys.
"I'm glad to hear that." Jim took the opportunity to introduce them, and the four of them eyed one another curiously. "What do you say, do you want to go out to the swings?" He pointed towards the half-open church door.
The suggestion was met with enthusiasm, especially from Sammy, who led the way outside. The girls scurried after him, hand in hand. Jim took a quick moment with Dean. "You watch out for the little ones, don't you?"
The nine-year-old rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir."
Jim watched him run after the others. Where had he learned to say that?
Lisa waited a few pews down, her shoulders hunched and her hands deep in her coat pockets. He pointed her to the office, and followed her back in.
"So where's your husband?", he asked.
"Don't know. Got a job, left the week before last."
Jim checked the pantry, found some cans and a box of cereal. He added the two eggs that were left from breakfast, and which he'd brought for later. It didn't matter; they would have to buy something for lunch anyway. Lisa held the bag awkwardly by two fingers, and didn't look inside.
"Do you have running water at home? Heating? Electricity?"
"Mm."
"Is there..." Jim stopped when he heard -- felt -- someone move in the church. He looked through the door.
Dean stood outside. "The little girl fell off the swing."
Lisa turned without a word, and strode out.
The two girls were still holding each other's hand in the back pew. Sammy waited nervously inside the door. Millie started crying again as soon as she saw her mother, and Lisa put the bag carefully on the floor before picking her up. "We need to go."
"I see you on Thursday, then?"
She nodded almost unnoticeably.
He watched her hurrying her steps down the street, the girls running to keep up. After they turned the corner, he turned back to his other two charges. "You want to go back outside?" Sammy's eyes lit up. "Let's go then."
The sun had come out, he noticed. The air was cool, the swings moved slightly in the wind, now and then a car floated by in the street. No one stopped to come to the church.
Dean stopped pushing Sammy's swing after a while, and came and sat a little distance away. He dug his heel into the sand, creating small, dark circles.
"Miss your dad?", Jim asked him.
He looked up. "Hmm."
"He'll be back, you know. When he's done. Do you know what he's looking for?"
Dean settled his gaze on a nearby garage, where nothing distracted him, not Sammy, not Jim, not the church. "It's a shtriga."
"A shtriga." Jim had to dig in his memories to find out if he knew what a shtriga was. It turned out he did. "Did he tell you about it?"
"Hmm." Dean sat on his hands, still looking away. "You must shoot it while it feeds. We don't tell Sammy."
"Maybe not." There was something immensly disturbing about the idea of two young boys put in the path of a child-eating monster. Jim pulled down his coatsleeves. Surely John wouldn't...?
Then again, how else do you find it? He let himself sink into the unpleasant implications for a while.
Sammy choose that moment to decide that he'd had enough of the swings, and come over to them. "Dean? Can we go in? I'll draw you a cat!"
Dean rose, and took his hand without even the tiniest hesitation. "We're going back to the church, if that's okay, Pastor Jim."