August, 1985
Singer Salvage.
Bobby? It's Jim Murphy. Look, I just wanted to let you know that I'm sending someone your way. He needs to know more about demons than I can teach him and you're the expert.
Since you're the one with the Masters in Theology that doesn't say much for your seminary, does it?
Funny, Bobby, very funny. Strangely enough the seminary didn't go in for pre-Christian rituals. I've shown him how to make holy water and I've given him some information about Latin exorcisms, but you're the one who knows the Sumerian and Babylonian rites.
Fine. Does this guy have a name?
John Winchester.
And why've you given me the heads up? Normally members of your 'flock' just turn up on my doorstep.
Two reasons. He got into hunting a couple of years ago – when his wife died.
Oh.
Yeah. He talks about it about as much as you do, so it probably won't ever come up, but …
… Yeah. 'Preciate it. And the other reason?
He's coming with a couple of children. His sons. Six and two.
What! No way, Murphy, no way! I'm not having a coupla kids running round here. It's a salvage yard, not a day-care.
They're quiet boys, Bobby; you probably won't even know they're there.
Oh, I'll know. Why can't they stay with you? You've got the room and you can't tell me your ladies wouldn't love to have a couple more mouths to feed.
I offered. John won't be separated from them. Where he goes, they go, and he's going to see you. It won't be that bad.
I hate kids.
You don't hate kids.
I do. You're the pastor; you're the one who has to love everybody. I get to hate people and I hate kids.
You won't hate these ones. The older one, Dean, he loves cars. You'll be bonding in no time.
We won't.
And the baby, Sammy …
What?
I bet you a bottle of single malt you're "Uncle" Bobby within a week.
You're on, Murphy. Loch Dhu ten year old.
Are you insane? How much do you think they pay me? You can have a nice Arran ten year old.
So you admit I'm going to win?
Fine. Loch Dhu ten year old it is. Looking forward to it.