Multi chap. Case Fic.
Spoilers : None
Disclaimer : Not only do I notown Supernatural, but, if this story turns out rubbish, I'm denying I wrote it, so then I won't own this either!
(It's my plan and I'm sticking to it) ;p
OF DESIRE AND DESICRATION
Summary : The priest of a troubled church commits suicide after a number of bodies are found, apparent victims of a serial killer. When the troubles continue, his replacement decides not to approach the church authorities, instead he calls a number he's been given. Two "private detectives" are sent to investigate and, hopefully, resolve the problems still besetting the church - Easy? So why ain't ev'rybody a Hunter? Hurt S&D (as per votes)
Prologue
-oOo-
It was a dirty evening which was following on from a day that had never properly managed to become light. There had been no break in the thick, bloated, deep grey and purple clouds that rolled by overhead, constantly harangued by a powerful wind that seemed to be blowing from every direction at once. There had been some brief respites from the accompanying rain, but for the most part the heavy downpours had sliced almost horizontally through the air at the insistence of the bullying winds. Waiting within a dimly lit church, the priest had already answered the door twice when he thought was someone knocking at the double doors entrance doors, only to find it had been the wind tormenting him by bouncing the heavy circular brass door knocker against the solid wood.
-o-
For a third time, on again hearing the sound of knocking, the Priest put his whole body weight against one of the church's heavy and ornately carved double entrance doors and battled to push it open against the force of the wind. Two hands grasped the edge of the door from the outside and pulled, adding their strength to the Priest's efforts. Aside from the dismembered hands, the surprisingly tall figure of a man was revealed standing outside hunkered down into his jacket, his shoulders hunched against the teaming rain and the howling winds. His clothing was soaked through and hair so wet it looked black was partially plastered to his scalp, it's longer lengths whipping him persistently across the face, forcing him to look at the world through narrowed eyes. The owner of the helping hands stepped into view, positioning himself with his back leaning against the door. He used his body as a prop to stop the door from being blown closed, challenging the wind in a battle of strength while waving at his taller companion to go inside first. Moving away from the door, he hurried into the church immediately behind the longer haired man, the wind promptly slamming the door closed behind him, the echo of the sound cascading around the main area of worship with it's high, vaulted, ceilings. Pausing after entering inside the church, the taller man shook his head vigorously, spraying droplets of excess rainwater into the air all around him like a halo, and earning him a look of reproach from the slightly shorter man.
"I'm Father Hanrahan. Can I help you two gentlemen?"
The shorter of the two held out his hand to the Priest, who automatically clasped it in his own and the two men shook hands in greeting.
"We're Sam and Dean Winchester. I think you're expecting us? You rang a friend of ours asking for help. I'm Dean an' this' Sam, my brother."
Father Hanrahan turned to shake Sam's hand.
"I'm so pleased to meet you. I really can't thank both of you enough for offering your assistance. Truly, you're the answer to my prayers!"
-oOo-
Chapter 1
-oOo-
Sat in the cosy room which doubled as both a sitting room and the priest's office, it was easy to forget the wild weather outside. Sam was happily engulfed within a large old leather armchair, the bottom of his jeans up to mid-calf were steaming gently as they began to be dried by the warmth of a log fire. He had removed his boots on entering the room and, to the amusement of his older brother, Sam now sat with his legs crossed at the ankles, unconsciously curling and uncurling his toes in response to the fire's warmth, a reflex action Dean remembered Sam having had since being a baby. One wall of the square room was shelved, the books lining them ranging from the religious to Wilbur Smith. Dark wood panelling covered the remaining three walls, one of which was broken up by a number of old fashioned oil paintings, most with a religious theme. On the wall above the open fireplace there hung a sizeable simple brass crucifix. The forth wall was set with two long, narrow, stone mullioned windows currently hidden behind full length heavy velvet drapes in a deep blue that managed to sit well with the thick carpeting covering the floor, it's traditional patterning picked out in dark reds, blues and greens. As well as the polished wood writing beaureu where a PC sat looking ill at ease with it's surroundings, other pieces of antique furniture served to clutter up the room and add to the effect of the room being ready to embrace and comfort whoever occupied it. Dean had found himself directed towards a small two seat leather sofa, over the back of which hung an oversized, fringed woollen throw in dark green. The lighting in the room was soft and low, provided by old fashioned looking wall lights and a carved wooden stemmed standard lamp wearing a dark green pleated shade direct from the forties. It would be all too easy for Dean to sprawl his legs out and doze off given half a chance.
-o-
"Now, what can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Or maybe you'd like something stronger?"
The taller man, Sam, answered for them both.
"Coffee would be great Father. Would I be right in assumin' you live here, on site?"
"You would indeed. I'm an old fashioned kind of priest. I believe I should always be available to my parishioners, day or night. God is always ready to listen, and therefore I should be too. And what about yourselves? Are you both religious men?"
Dean gave a short laugh.
"Listen. When the King of Hell has your cell phone number, an' one of your friends is a nerdy Angel, whether you're the religious type or not kinda becomes a moot point. Sam an' me, we don't need faith, 'cos we know! Word to the wise? Stay away from angels. Most of them are twisted S.O.B.'s. I've met daemons with more good in them!"
For a couple of heartbeats, the priest stared at Dean wide eyed, then he began to chuckle.
"You almost had me there my son; you rattled that whole thing off so straight faced! Something tells me you tend to be more of the joker in the pack? I'll take your reply to mean you're not believers? And that's quite alright. You have my solemn word that I won't be making any attempts to convert either of you. I believe that each of us must be free to come to God in our own time and in our own way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get you your drinks. I had my house keeper prepare a snack tray, I hope that it will be sufficient for you? If necessary I will happily cook something. I woin't have you cold, wetand hungry after you've travelled so far to be here... I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."
-o-
The moment the priest left the room, Sam glared at Dean, lowering his voice to a hissed whisper.
"Dean! What the Hell? Twisted S.O.B.'s?"
Dean threw Sam an innocent look.
"What? They are! I was only bein' honest"...Ohh c'mon, don't lose your wig Sammy. The guy thinks I'm jokin'."
Still glaring, Sam huffed impatiently.
Well, just watch what you're sayin'. And don't even think about upsetting the man by tellin' him God's gone AWOL, ok?"
Dean grinned mischievously back at Sam.
"What should I say instead? God's packed his suitcase an' gone on a cruise? Return date unknown?"
"Don't say anythin', alright? Let the man do his job an' keep his faith He doesn't need to know about any of the crap that's really goin' off upstairs. Agreed?"
Dean dropped a sloppy salute.
"Whatever you say bro'."
-o-
"Here we are gentlemen. Samuel? Would you mind clearing that stuff off the coffee table? Just pop it down anywhere, thanks."
"Please, it's just Sam."
Dean's eyes widened and he smiled broadly when he saw the heavily loaded tray of "snacks" the priest was carrying.
"Wow! Here, let me give you a hand with that...This housekeeper of yours, she married yet?"
Father Hanrahan laughed.
"No. And she's a he, but I'll tell him you enquired. Please, help yourselves. I thought we could talk while we eat? Things won't generally start happening for another couple of hours yet, although there are still some nights when, thank the Lord, it stays uneventful around here right the way through."
The priest settled himself down at one end of a battered looking three seat leather sofa, his plate of food next to him on a side table.
"So, gentlemen. What have you been told about the, um, issues, here at Saint Augustine's?"
-oOo-
Chick xxx
Any reviews and/or comments/suggestions are always gratefully received.