Interlude I

Jimmy sat with his head in his hands. The priest passed him, his feet kicking debris as he approached the devastated altar. Jimmy heard his exclamation followed by a lengthy silence. He waited.

Shadows shifted in the cathedral then grew dimmer. The priest returned and sat beside him.

Jimmy looked up. "The police aren't here."

"No time to call."

"Oh." Jimmy surveyed the nave, the frescos of its vaulted ceilings emerging as dawn approached. A sense of stone grandeur cowed him. He'd stepped above his place and been misled. Pride could do that, lead you astray for nothing. "You can call now if you want to," he said.

"I still might. Depends."

"On?"

"Why?"

"I thought it was the right thing to do." Jimmy ruffled his hair. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he'd agreed at all. It was obvious now that the brothers meant to steal the relic all along. They'd just been beaten to the punch. "I was wrong. I'm not a godsend. I'm just a fool who trusts too easily."

The priest weighed Jimmy's words as though contemplating all the possible meanings. He climbed to his feet and pointed. "Go."

Jimmy went.

A few cars rumbled down the street, interrupting the gray morning light. Jimmy walked five blocks and crossed a six lane intersection before he found a taxi to take him to the motel. When the yellow cab pulled up in front of the single-story building, Jimmy paid the driver and went to the door.

Sam had given Jimmy an extra room key, and Jimmy was glad of that now as he stepped inside. The interior was dark, silent and cool. He slid the key back into his pocket, flipped on the light and closed the door behind him.

The beds had been made and the bathroom stripped. The desk where Jimmy spent the last night researching leads was barren – maybe even polished of prints. The room was empty. Jimmy crossed the distance to his bed and felt beneath it. He was relieved to feel his bag. They'd left him that, at least.

Jimmy's eyes were bleary. He tossed his duffel onto the empty bed, unzipped it and grabbed the travel kit off the top. He managed to brush his teeth and splash water onto his face before the weariness fully took hold, dragging at his body like an anchor. He locked the door, kicked off his shoes and pants and fell into bed.

He dreamed of a map burning from four corners, curling in on itself as the flames devoured. Charred flakes floated on the breeze, but when he peered closer he saw it was just a painting. What an odd thing to have in a hospital. He turned to show the man beside him, but the man held a finger to his mouth and gestured down the hall.

Jimmy nodded, understanding immediately the need for stillness. He followed his companion's gaze down the hall. There, the corridor faded into blackness so absolute that he almost forgot what hope was. It staggered him. He turned away. Blinding light poured toward him from the other direction. An absence of sound overcame him so profoundly that it screamed in his skull.

Trapped between the two forces, Jimmy felt his body turn brittle and begin to crumble.

He woke with a pounding in his temples almost as loud as the banging on the door. The room was uncomfortably warm. He dragged himself out of bed, shrugged into pants and answered the door. The sun was already high in the sky, hot and brilliant, and the clerk stood before him unimpressed that he'd missed check out.

He stuffed his crumpled clothes into his bag, washed his face and was out the door in ten minutes. He asked the clerk for a taxi as he handed over his key, but the woman only stared. Jimmy decided to walk to the station.

Jimmy thought of Claire and Amelia, who had slept under the same room as killers. He'd invited the danger in, risked his family's lives in exchange for self importance. He'd been stupid to believe God gave him a mission. There was no grand design, no mission more important than his family.

He'd never felt failure so complete before. This wasn't a challenge he could problem-solve and tackle again in the morning; he'd put his faith in the mission. He'd believed in the dream, had felt it in his gut that these men were important - so much so that he'd trusted them on word alone.

Still, the heaviness in his heart grew as he walked, and Jimmy found himself trying to reason away the doubt. With the monsters the brothers faced, certainly some of them could appear human. And if Dean Winchester killed one, no one would know the monster from a man.

He shouldered through a spinning door into the bus terminal. A wall of scrolling text showed upcoming departures and arrivals. Jimmy located the next bus to Pontiac and stepped into line.

It bothered him that Sam Winchester had deceived him so easily, though. He liked to think he had a good read on people, but the young man beat him. His face was blank slate, capable of being both expressionless and misleading.

But he'd been earnest at the church, pleading with Jimmy to stay, and Jimmy thought that might be the one sincere thing about Sam Winchester. If he could trust nothing else, he could trust that Sam would do anything for his brother.

The line moved quickly. Jimmy reached for his wallet and came up empty. Frowning, he patted the pockets of his coat. A stab of panic made his heart beat faster when he couldn't find it. He looked around him on the floor but saw nothing.

I don't need this, not today.

Jimmy stepped out of line and dropped his bag and coat on a nearby bench. He forced back the urge to blame the Winchesters. He'd had the darn thing at the motel. It had to be here somewhere.

But it wasn't. After Jimmy triple-checked his pockets, he felt through his duffel bag. He didn't want to be that traveler emptying out his luggage in public, but he'd checked top to bottom and –

He stopped, hand frozen in midair. A ball of dread settled cold and began to rise in his throat, and Jimmy couldn't push it down. The book was gone.

Jimmy felt sick. Hands shaking, he shoved his clothes into the bag and jerked the zipper shut. He rested his head against the bench, certain he was going to vomit. Colors seemed too vivid. The room spun.

Please, God, no! He couldn't believe it was gone. He'd been so careful! It had barely left his sight since he'd received it. Jimmy had only left it alone for a few hours, really, and -

- he'd left it with Dean. The thought cleared his mind, a gust of wind shaking loose the crowding cobwebs.

A voice over the loudspeaker called his name, inviting him to the Information Desk for his wallet. Jimmy opened his eyes, more certain now than he'd been in days. He grabbed his bag and stood. It seemed he couldn't shake the brothers if he tried; Dean Winchester had taken his book for a reason.

Jimmy was going to find out why.