A/N: This is a missing scene from 02x13, "Houses of the Holy." It takes place just after the car chase in which the man was impaled, before Dean returns to the motel at the end of the episode. In my headcanon this episode was a turning point for Dean in his faith. For those who are curious, the title is Latin for "at the same time both righteous and a sinner."

Dean got out of the Impala, still reeling from what had just happened. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the truck driver getting out as well. As he approached the Ford, he vaguely heard the truck driver talking on his cell phone – he had called 911, from the sound of it. Glass crunched under Dean's boots as he came to stand by the driver's side window to fully take in the grisly scene. The would-be rapist had been impaled by the rod from the truck. He was dead before he even knew what had happened.

Dean Winchester had seen quite a few gruesome deaths in his lifetime – an occupational hazard of being a hunter. This one, though – this one shook him to the core. Sirens in the distance brought him back to reality. Soon the scene would be crawling with paramedics and cops and each one of them would want him to give his statement. Or worse – one of them would recognize him as the bank robber from Milwaukee.

Tires squealed as Dean left, the truck driver yelling in protest after him. He drove aimlessly, not quite ready to go back to the motel and meet Sam with his smug I told you so face. The hour was late, and much of the city was already dark. A town like Providence didn't have much of a nightlife, Dean supposed.

He rolled to a stop and parked, realizing with a start he was in front of Our Lady of the Angels church. It was almost as if he was meant to end up there. Dean pulled his leather jacket tighter around him – the nights got cold here in January. He was a little surprised to find the enormous front doors unlocked, but went inside nonetheless.

The altar was alight with candles in red jars, and a broad figure was seated in the very front pew. Dean's boots echoed heavily in the silent sanctuary. Neither he nor Father Reynolds spoke when he sat down beside the priest.

"Father, I –" Dean's voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. His hands balled up inside the pockets of his coat. He chuckled nervously. "I've never done this before."

Father Reynolds gave him an encouraging nod.

"I've never believed in God," he blurted out, then looked around as though afraid God himself was listening in, waiting to smite him for his unbelief. "I don't think I even know how. I mean, my mom did. Sam does. But it comes so naturally to people like them, you know? I don't – I'm not –"

"You don't think you deserve to be saved," said Father Reynolds quietly.

Dean shrugged.

"Dean," said Father Reynolds, "I am a man of the faith. I have witnessed miracles. I have seen sinners of the worst magnitude come to know God. But tonight I saw something I would never have believed had I not seen it with my own two eyes. It is the struggle of all who believe; indeed, it is what faith is. But the Lord will help you if you ask for it."

Dean began shaking his head. "Father, I don't know if I'm ready –"

"The Lord will meet you wherever you are, Dean," he said gently, laying a hand on Dean's sleeve.

Dean was quiet for a little longer, studying the dancing candle flames on the altar.

"What happened, son?"

It came out in a flood of words, Dean's chest tight as he told Father Reynolds what he had witnessed. "It was God's will," he finished. "I could feel it." He let out the breath he had been holding. "Is that even a thing, like, is that possible? I could feel – I don't know. Something. A higher power. It was like God was there, in that moment."

"Everything is possible for one who believes," said the priest. He took his hand from Dean's jacket and stood up, approaching the altar. He took a thick, leather-bound book from under the altar and opened it to the front cover, then took a pen out of his pocket and began to write. Dean merely watched him, unsure whether he had been dismissed or not.

Father Reynolds closed the book, then stepped down from the altar and held it out. Dean glanced at it, then back up at the priest.

He shook his head. "Father, I don't –" He laughed. "I don't need a Bible."

Father Reynolds shook the book at him. "Just take it," he said, and Dean knew better than to argue. He held it in his hands, the weight of it surprising him. It was heavier than it looked. He slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat, snug up next to his flask of whiskey. The irony made him smirk.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Father Reynolds, sitting down next to him again. "You might find Mark, chapter nine particularly interesting."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay." He stood up. "Well, uh, thanks for everything, Father. I should be getting back, see how my brother is holding up."

Father Reynolds nodded. "Go in peace. I hope we shall meet again."

Dean frowned slightly, unsure how to respond, so he just nodded. The echo of his footfalls followed him out of the church. He drove back to the motel, the Bible a comforting weight against his chest under his coat. He put the Impala in park and brought it out, running his fingers over the leather cover, so like the texture of his jacket. Leather had always made him feel safe, somehow. He opened it to the priest's message:

Dean –
I see in you a righteous man.
Never forget that angels are watching over you.

Your brother in Christ,
Father Patrick Reynolds
Our Lady of the Angels
Providence, RI

Dean smiled faintly and scanned the table of contents. Using a slice of light from the motel parking lot lights, he quickly read through Mark, chapter nine. It was not difficult to understand why Father Reynolds had recommended this chapter. Jesus pulling a Gandalf, his clothes becoming a dazzling white? Banishing an evil spirit through prayer? And of course, the possessed boy's father, saying "I do believe, help me in my unbelief!" Salt and fire as cleansing agents? It was as if the chapter was written for a questioning hunter. Maybe Father Reynolds knew more about the life than he let on. Jesus was a badass, that much was clear.

Dean shut the book and tucked it back into his jacket before going inside. This was personal. No need for Sam to see it.