The sky was cloudy, the air thick and wet. Dean and Sam leaned against the Impala outside a church. An old oak shielded them from the rain as the brothers stared speculatively at the well worn grey building across the street. The water fell in fat, lazy droplets, and occasionally the weight of the water would become too much, slipping down past the leaves and slide down the back of a neck.
Sam looked at the as though not sure what to make of it, though he'd seen it's counterpart in ever town his life had dragged him through. His brow creased below the curtain of his hair, and he turned a skeptical face to his brother.
"You can't be serious."
"I'm always serious." The smile he flashed at his brother didn't disarm Sam's searching look.
"What?" He said, hitching his collar up to block the rain. "I can be serious. And I'm serious about this, okay?"
Sam seemed to believe Dean, as far as that went, but what he didn't look was convinced.
"Come on, this could work." When this argument didn't seem to win past Sam's impatience, he let the smile slip. "Look, you know it could have saved our ass on a couple hunts in the past. We can't afford to pass up any advantage."
Sam finally relented.
"You're really shameless, you know that?"
Dean's only answer was the return of his grin about ten times brighter. He started across the street and something in his step caused Sam to roll his eyes. As irritating as it was, though, he wasn't about to burst his brother's bubble. As stupid as it sounded, it could actually work. And far be it for him to refuse a possible weapon in their fight.
The priest that answered the door got a suspicious look in his eye when he saw them that for a moment Sam was worried they might have been recognized. He realized quickly that it was mostly from the almost gleeful smile Dean still wore, now turned toward him with its full power.
"Hey, Padre," Dean greeted cheerfully. "I was wondering if you could help us out with something."
He pauses for a beat, one could almost imagine for effect, looking backward at Sam. For his part, Sam merely shook his head wearily as his brother leaned in toward the priest with a conspiratorial whisper.
"You ever blessed the bumper of a '67 Chevy?"
