𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 | 𝐬𝐩𝐧

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘

SHE sat up, shaking. "You okay?" Dean questioned beside her. "Y-Yeah." She nodded. Carter didn't know what she was so scared of. She didn't remember her dream, but all she knew was that it felt real and that scared her. She walked into the bathroom to wash her face and listened to the door open and shut. When she walked out, Sam and Dean were whispering to one another.

"Any news?" Carter asked. "Three students have disappeared off the college campus in the last year. All of them were last seen at the library. So whatever this thing is, it struck again." Sam replied. "I was listening to the police radio before you got here. There was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart. Roma Downey made him do it. " Dean said. "I got the vic's address." He smirked.

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

Carter typed on the victim's desktop, wearing gloves to shield her fingerprints. She pulled up his emails and immediately noticed the back and forth conversations with a girl named Jennifer. "We got a groomer." She muttered. "Thirteen year old named Jennifer. There are dozens of emails." She told them. "They were supposed to meet today. Any tie between the vics?"

"They went to the same church."

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇

"This is a beautiful church, Father Reynolds," Carter said to the priest. The man nodded in response. "We're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here." He told the trio. "Hey, listen, I gotta ask - no offense, but uh, the neighborhood?" Dean questioned. "Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here is so important. Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime, you work your butt off." He sighed.

"The murder victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years. They were misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic." He continued. "Father, is that Michael?" Sam questioned, nodding towards a painting on the ceiling. "That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil." The priest answered.

Something stirred in Carter's stomach. "A lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified." Luke 2:9." The priest smiled. "Do you mind if I look around, Father?" She asked. "God's home is your home." The man replied. Carter nodded and walked up a flight of carpeted stairs to a platform full of pews and instruments.

"Better now than never." She muttered, kneeling on a stand. She folded her hands and cleared her throat. "What do I even start with? 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned?' I don't pray often anymore but I know the things I've done aren't reversible. I know my mistakes. I save people as a living. That's my job. I'm doing things that you aren't. Where were you when Peter Sweeney was being bullied to death? Where were you when my dad killed himself? Where were you when my mom was being murdered? What about Sam and Dean's mom and dad? Hell, if anyone is listening, where are you? Why aren't you helping?" She thought. "Can I join you?" A voice asked beside her.

She looked up and Sam and scooted over. He joined her on the stand. "My dad and I used to go to church a couple of times per month. He told me the angels were listening...I don't think they are anymore." Carter confessed. "It's worth a try." Sam convinced, folding his hands. The couple lowered their heads.

-

"Thanks for everything...What's this?" Dean asked, looking at a memorial. "Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here. He passed away right on these steps two months ago. Shot for his keys. He's interred in the church crypt." The priest sighed. "Oh. Sorry for your loss...We'll speak to you again soon." Carter muttered. Once he went inside, Dean spoke up. "Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there. And he knew all the other stiffs because they went to church here, 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?" Sam countered. "Aw, come on, man, what's your deal? Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a skeptic, but since when are you all Mr., uh, 700 Club? No, seriously. 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 scoffed. "I do," Sam muttered.

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀

Carter laid in the backseat, breathing slowly and silently. She listened to the engine purr and Dean's music blare. There wasn't much to say or do. She seemed to always be tired these days. It concerned Sam but he didn't utter about it. Sleep was bliss and if that was her key to tranquility, who would he be to disturb it?

"You okay?" Dean asked his brother. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Sam questioned. "You're just...You're putting faith into something blindly. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere, and rips you to shreds." Dean sighed. "You have your beliefs and I have mine," Sam replied.

Dean nodded and adjusted his rearview mirror. "Is she sleeping again? " He muttered. "Yup...I don't blame her. Dreaming about sunshine and lollipops is probably better than hunting God-knows-what." Sam remarked. His brother didn't respond. Instead, he just sped up.