Haunted-Supernatural Dean/Cas-non slash
Haunted
The church was dim with a slight chill that felt pleasant on his face as he pressed his hand to his side and tried to stop the flow as he took shallow breaths. The knife had deflected off his ribs and stopped it from hitting anything vital deeper inside but it stung like a bitch. He had spent most of his life in various stages of pain but nothing quite brought a sting like an ugly stomach wound. He had jimmied the front door of the church one handed, which was harder than it sounded, as his hand had grown bright red but the pain didn't really set in until he stopped moving.
Where the fuck was Cas?
It had been years since he had hunted alone and somewhere along the line he had grown used having Sam watching his back and it cost him tonight at the charge of deep stomach gash with a side tax of dull agony. Normally he would be trying to get his ass to an emergency room before the blood loss got worse but there were precious few perks of having a brother who jumpstarted the Apocalypse was that you had an angel on speed dial that could heal mortal wounds.
If he ever got here.
He could see the oversized figure of Christ behind the alter and wondered how anyone could sit in here every Sunday and stare at a man being tortured to death was beyond him. Sunday was the day to grab a six pack, get some laundry done and if the fates are very, very giving, sit and watch a pointless sport's game and pretending he cared about it. To get up early, get into a suit and then sit here under the image of that dying man and pray to a God that never listens was just beyond Dean's level of understanding. Seemed to him writing random letters to strangers and tossing them in the ocean wasn't only more productive, it let one sleep in on Sundays like a civilized person.
Dean fumbled with his free hand in his jacket to pull out his cell phone, the pain was going away which was never a good thing with blood loss. He pulled it out and tried to flip it open but his fingers refused to respond and the phone went tumbling to the floor. Dean heard it fall to the ground in the dark and knew it had rolled behind him. He began to stand up with a tired groan when a hand pushed him back down into the pew. He looked up and saw Castiel standing next to him, his phone in hand.
"You're hurt." the angel said after a second.
"What gave it away?" Dean said grabbing the phone angrily.
"The blood on your shirt and hands." Castiel replied without emotion and sat down next to him. "Let me see it."
Dean slowly removed his hand and winced as he felt fresh blood pour out from the wound. The other man's hand pressed against the laceration and a warm splash of relief began to move through Dean's body. He felt himself sigh as he leaned back and relaxed for the first time in...longer than he could remember.
"The cut is deep." Castiel said after a few minutes. "Just sit there and try not to move."
"Not a problem." Dean said lazily. Ever since falling from grace Castiel's powers had been greatly diminished, cut off from the power of heaven he was forced to channel what power he could from within. Normally a wound like this would have been fixed with a wave of a hand. Now it was going to take several minutes just to make sure Dean wouldn't die of internal bleeding when he tried to stand. It was a frustration he was unfamiliar with but the former host of heaven was learning to deal with it the best he could.
"You know him?" Dean asked in the silence.
Castiel was confused by the question and looked over at Dean to see who he was referring to. Following his gaze his eyes came upon the statue of Jesus. He looked back at Dean. "Did I know Jesus?"
"That's what I asked."
"Jesus Christ? The son of God? You're asking if I knew him?" his voice was strained with the barest strains of emotion as he asked.
Dean blinked a few times before saying. "No Cas I mean Jesus the guy who washes the dishes at Whataburger."
The angel nodded and went back to the wound. "In that case no I do not know that Jesus."
Dean sighed and tried to sit up but Castiel forced him to remain still. With sarcasm dripping form his words Dean said. "Yes I meant that Jesus. Man we gotta find you a sense of humor."
Cas didn't look away from Dean's wound as he said. "We do not joke about Jesus."
"Why not? He not a joke kind of guy?"
"I don't know. I never met him when he was alive." Castiel answered quickly.
Dean paused as he digested that nugget of information. "So you met him when he was dead?"
Cas nodded. "I was there when entered the kingdom of heaven."
"So he was real? I mean Jesus was a real guy?" Dean asked.
"Quite real."
"And he walked around and did miracles and such? Like walking on water and snakes into wine?"
Castiel looked up to see if this was another of Dean's jokes. When he saw no amusement on the man's face he clarified. "Jesus turned water into wine. Moses turned his staff into a snake."
Dean shrugged. "Whatever. It really happened?"
Castiel looked back at the wound and concentrated. After a long period he asked. "When did you stop believing?"
"Believing in what? Fairy tales?"
Cas locked eyes with him. "The Bible is not a fairy tale."
"I'll say." Dean growled as he reached into his jacket and pulled out his flask. "Fairy tales at least have happy endings." He took a long swig as the angel scrutinized him.
"You used to believe."
Dean shook his head as offered him a drink. Castiel shook his head and Dean took another before answering. "Nope. Never bought it."
"You're wrong."
Dean finished tightening the top. In a growl he said. "No. I'm not."
Castiel sighed as he went back to mending. Dean shifted in the pew as they sat in silence. Finally after about five minutes of not talking Dean said. "When I was a little kid sure. But you believe in anything when you're five."
"You were still four." Castiel said in a low tone, not looking away from the wound.
Dean glared at him. "How do you know that?"
Cas looked up at him. "Do you remember the moment you stopped believing?"
Dean didn't say anything but his thoughts tumbled back in time against his will. Back to that day, the day his faith died.
November 5, 1983
The last time John had been in a funeral home Mary and him had been burying her parents.
He had hovered near her, waiting for the inevitable break down that was bound to occur sooner or later from losing both her parents at the same time like that. He hadn't been too sure how they both died at the same time, the story was vague and confusing and in fact he never got a clear answer from her about it at the time. One day they were both alive and well and the next they were dead.
The same way Mary was now.
The thought that she was gone killed him inside as he leaned against one of the chairs and rubbed his eyes. Things had just been getting better between them, back to the way it used to be and now she was dead and again he had no idea what happened. What was he going to do now?
"Dad?"
John looked down and saw Dean looking up at him as he tugged at John's sleeve. He was dressed in his Sunday suit with his hair slicked down and dress shoes on. Sammy was in his baby carrier on one of the front seats, John noticed absently Dean was more than three steps from his brother, the farthest he'd been so far. Summoning up some strength from somewhere he knelt down to be eye level with his son and said. "What's up champ?"
Dean let go of his father's sleeve and looked down as he kicked the carpet. "Um...can I ask you a question?"
John counted to ten in his mind before answering. He did not have the state of mind to fish what Dean wanted out of him right now. "Sure Dean. Go ahead."
Dean took a deep breath and asked. "When is she coming back?"
John paused, not sure who he was talking about. None of Mary's friends had arrived for the service yet and John had been unable to contact any of the odd relatives of Mary's that had showed up to her parent's funeral all those years ago. The only number he had found in Mary's address book was the number for a bar in the Dakotas and they had no idea who Mary Campbell was. John finally had to ask. "Who is coming back?"
"Mom." Dean said without hesitation. "When is mom coming back."
John rocked back on his heels for a second, it felt like he had been slugged in the face for a moment the sting of his son's words hurt so bad. He blinked back tears as he tried to keep his voice level. "Dean, we talked about this. Mom is...mom is gone. She went to heaven to live with God."
Dean nodded not the least bit confused. "I know. When is she coming back to life though?"
John froze, not sure how to answer that question. Where would Dean get the insane idea that his mom would be coming back to life? He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Dean, people don't come back to life. She's, she's dead son."
"I know she's dead!" Dean said suddenly. "But Jesus came back to life after three days all he did was heal some sick people! Mom was way nicer than that and besides she always said her prayers with me and said that angels were looking out for us and all that good stuff! So she should get to come back too! It's been three days so does it take longer for girls to come back?"
John's face was frozen as Dean laid out his logic out for him. Mary had always had more faith than he did when it came to religion. She always said that things like holy water and silver had power and that power had to come from somewhere. She insisted in taking Dean to church every Sunday and saying his prayer's with him every night but he had no idea how much Dean had believed in it. He knew he should explain it rationally to him, calmly and surely to get the boy to understand. In the rational side of his brain John knew the question was innocent and was just Dean's way of trying to wrap his mind around the fact his mom was gone.
But John wasn't even close to rational at the moment.
"Those are just stories Dean." he said grabbing his son's other shoulder firmly. "Jesus and Noah and the Garden of Eden, they are just stories that people tell each other to feel better."
"But mom said Jesus was the son of God and that he..." the boy started to explain.
"No one comes back to life Dean." John said cutting him off.
"Jesus did!" Dean countered.
"No he didn't!" John said his voice rising. "It's just a stupid story Dean. There is no God and Jesus and all that garbage. There is no master plan from God and he doesn't grant miracles. There is just chaos and violence and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips..." John's voice cracked as emotion swelled up in his throat. "She's not coming back Dean. No one comes back." he said biting back a sob. "I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
"But mom said..." Dean said in a tiny voice.
"Well she was wrong." John said savagely, cutting the conversation off before it got any worse. "Go look after your brother."
Dean stood there as his father walked away wiping his face. The room seemed to grow around him as if he was shrinking and his mind tried to absorb his father's words. He felt his eyes start to sting as the realization that his mom was gone forever began to dawn on him He walked over to the carrier and stood in front of it. Sammy saw the familiar face of his brother and broke out into a slobbering smile. The giggle seemed to make Dean even sadder for some reason and as he sat down he hugged the carrier and Sammy he wondered why people told such horrible stories.
"He was wrong."
Dean looked over at Castiel, his eyes wet. "What?"
"Your father was wrong." Castiel repeated.
Dean wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Well yeah I know that now. Lots of things come back, just none of them good."
Cas took his hand off of Dean's stomach. "You misunderstand. Your father was wrong about those stories, they are real."
Dean gazed at Cas for a full ten seconds in shock before he could force out. "You're gonna try to tell me that everything that happened in the Bible was true?"
"No not everything. The book was not written by God Dean, it was written by man." the angel said rising from the pew.
"So what? You're saying all the problems with it is our fault?" Dean demanded.
"Yes." Castiel said without pause. He paused and then looked back to Dean. "Not all of it."
"So then what parts are true?' Dean said rising. "The flood? Eden? Pillar of Salt?"
"What is and is not real is the point Dean."
"Then what is the point Cas? Cause from where I am standing the only parts about that book that are real, suck" Dean's face was flushed in anger as he advanced on the man.
"The point is that people have faith." he replied calmly. "Faith in the word and the way of the Lord. To go through and prove which parts are real and are not goes in the face of what faith is."
"Enlighten me Yoda. What is faith then?"
"Belief in things not seen. Despite physical proof, the wholehearted belief that there is something more."
Dean scoffed and turned away. "Sounds like a con job to me Cas. Same way I want people to have 'faith' that whatever badge I flash is real despite the fact I know crap about being an FBI agent." Dean blinked twice and paused as Cas stood in front of him. Under his breath he mumbled "I hate it when you do that."
"God is not a con artist Dean." the barest hint of emotion seemed to creep into the angel's voice.
"Isn't he? Just another snake oil dealer promising to cure all what ails you? All for a low, low price of devotion and eternal obedience!"
"It's not like that Dean!" real emotion flooding into his voice.
"PROVE IT!" Dean roared. "Show me a freaking miracle Cas! Just one!"
"YOU AND YOUR BROTHER ARE ALIVE!" Cas screamed back. Dean froze as he continued. "I'm sorry that God did not save your mother or father Dean but you and your brother are living proof that God cares. No angel put you on that plane I did not bring myself back from the dead! You and Sam are who he brought back and that has to mean something." The two of them glared at each other for a few seconds. "You are the miracle Dean. You are the one who came back, not her."
Dean dropped his gaze first as he turned back towards the alter. He looked up at the huge Christ and said in a bitter tone. "Well he fucked up on that one didn't he?"
Dean sat back down with a sigh, his side ached for a moment as he forced himself to take smaller breaths. Cas sat behind him, both of them staring at the carving. Dean took another swig of his flask and began to put it away before he paused and offered it to the angel. Cas looked at it for a second and then took it and finished it off before handing it back. Dean tucked it away and then chuckled to himself. "Did you really just yell at me?"
He didn't even look at him as he said. "You can be quite vexing."
"That isn't a real word Cas."
"Shut up Dean."
They sat there in the silence of the church for almost ten minutes. Finally Dean asked. "Tell me about him."
Cas looked over in surprise. "About who?"
"Jesus. What was he like?" Dean asked.
Cas went back to looking at the statue. "Well to be honest, he was a very funny person."
Dean looked at him. "Seriously?"
Cas nodded. "I heard a story once on the road to Jerusalem he met a man on the road..."
The church was dim with a slight chill that felt pleasant on his face as he pressed his hand to his side and tried to stop the flow as he took shallow breaths. The knife had deflected off his ribs and stopped it from hitting anything vital deeper inside but it stung like a bitch. He had spent most of his life in various stages of pain but nothing quite brought a sting like an ugly stomach wound. He had jimmied the front door of the church one handed, which was harder than it sounded, as his hand had grown bright red but the pain didn't really set in until he stopped moving.
Where the fuck was Cas?
It had been years since he had hunted alone and somewhere along the line he had grown used having Sam watching his back and it cost him tonight at the charge of deep stomach gash with a side tax of dull agony. Normally he would be trying to get his ass to an emergency room before the blood loss got worse but there were precious few perks of having a brother who jumpstarted the Apocalypse was that you had an angel on speed dial that could heal mortal wounds.
If he ever got here.
He could see the oversized figure of Christ behind the alter and wondered how anyone could sit in here every Sunday and stare at a man being tortured to death was beyond him. Sunday was the day to grab a six pack, get some laundry done and if the fates are very, very giving, sit and watch a pointless sport's game and pretending he cared about it. To get up early, get into a suit and then sit here under the image of that dying man and pray to a God that never listens was just beyond Dean's level of understanding. Seemed to him writing random letters to strangers and tossing them in the ocean wasn't only more productive, it let one sleep in on Sundays like a civilized person.
Dean fumbled with his free hand in his jacket to pull out his cell phone, the pain was going away which was never a good thing with blood loss. He pulled it out and tried to flip it open but his fingers refused to respond and the phone went tumbling to the floor. Dean heard it fall to the ground in the dark and knew it had rolled behind him. He began to stand up with a tired groan when a hand pushed him back down into the pew. He looked up and saw Castiel standing next to him, his phone in hand.
"You're hurt." the angel said after a second.
"What gave it away?" Dean said grabbing the phone angrily.
"The blood on your shirt and hands." Castiel replied without emotion and sat down next to him. "Let me see it."
Dean slowly removed his hand and winced as he felt fresh blood pour out from the wound. The other man's hand pressed against the laceration and a warm splash of relief began to move through Dean's body. He felt himself sigh as he leaned back and relaxed for the first time in...longer than he could remember.
"The cut is deep." Castiel said after a few minutes. "Just sit there and try not to move."
"Not a problem." Dean said lazily. Ever since falling from grace Castiel's powers had been greatly diminished, cut off from the power of heaven he was forced to channel what power he could from within. Normally a wound like this would have been fixed with a wave of a hand. Now it was going to take several minutes just to make sure Dean wouldn't die of internal bleeding when he tried to stand. It was a frustration he was unfamiliar with but the former host of heaven was learning to deal with it the best he could.
"You know him?" Dean asked in the silence.
Castiel was confused by the question and looked over at Dean to see who he was referring to. Following his gaze his eyes came upon the statue of Jesus. He looked back at Dean. "Did I know Jesus?"
"That's what I asked."
"Jesus Christ? The son of God? You're asking if I knew him?" his voice was strained with the barest strains of emotion as he asked.
Dean blinked a few times before saying. "No Cas I mean Jesus the guy who washes the dishes at Whataburger."
The angel nodded and went back to the wound. "In that case no I do not know that Jesus."
Dean sighed and tried to sit up but Castiel forced him to remain still. With sarcasm dripping form his words Dean said. "Yes I meant that Jesus. Man we gotta find you a sense of humor."
Cas didn't look away from Dean's wound as he said. "We do not joke about Jesus."
"Why not? He not a joke kind of guy?"
"I don't know. I never met him when he was alive." Castiel answered quickly.
Dean paused as he digested that nugget of information. "So you met him when he was dead?"
Cas nodded. "I was there when entered the kingdom of heaven."
"So he was real? I mean Jesus was a real guy?" Dean asked.
"Quite real."
"And he walked around and did miracles and such? Like walking on water and snakes into wine?"
Castiel looked up to see if this was another of Dean's jokes. When he saw no amusement on the man's face he clarified. "Jesus turned water into wine. Moses turned his staff into a snake."
Dean shrugged. "Whatever. It really happened?"
Castiel looked back at the wound and concentrated. After a long period he asked. "When did you stop believing?"
"Believing in what? Fairy tales?"
Cas locked eyes with him. "The Bible is not a fairy tale."
"I'll say." Dean growled as he reached into his jacket and pulled out his flask. "Fairy tales at least have happy endings." He took a long swig as the angel scrutinized him.
"You used to believe."
Dean shook his head as offered him a drink. Castiel shook his head and Dean took another before answering. "Nope. Never bought it."
"You're wrong."
Dean finished tightening the top. In a growl he said. "No. I'm not."
Castiel sighed as he went back to mending. Dean shifted in the pew as they sat in silence. Finally after about five minutes of not talking Dean said. "When I was a little kid sure. But you believe in anything when you're five."
"You were still four." Castiel said in a low tone, not looking away from the wound.
Dean glared at him. "How do you know that?"
Cas looked up at him. "Do you remember the moment you stopped believing?"
Dean didn't say anything but his thoughts tumbled back in time against his will. Back to that day, the day his faith died.
November 5, 1983
The last time John had been in a funeral home Mary and him had been burying her parents.
He had hovered near her, waiting for the inevitable break down that was bound to occur sooner or later from losing both her parents at the same time like that. He hadn't been too sure how they both died at the same time, the story was vague and confusing and in fact he never got a clear answer from her about it at the time. One day they were both alive and well and the next they were dead.
The same way Mary was now.
The thought that she was gone killed him inside as he leaned against one of the chairs and rubbed his eyes. Things had just been getting better between them, back to the way it used to be and now she was dead and again he had no idea what happened. What was he going to do now?
"Dad?"
John looked down and saw Dean looking up at him as he tugged at John's sleeve. He was dressed in his Sunday suit with his hair slicked down and dress shoes on. Sammy was in his baby carrier on one of the front seats, John noticed absently Dean was more than three steps from his brother, the farthest he'd been so far. Summoning up some strength from somewhere he knelt down to be eye level with his son and said. "What's up champ?"
Dean let go of his father's sleeve and looked down as he kicked the carpet. "Um...can I ask you a question?"
John counted to ten in his mind before answering. He did not have the state of mind to fish what Dean wanted out of him right now. "Sure Dean. Go ahead."
Dean took a deep breath and asked. "When is she coming back?"
John paused, not sure who he was talking about. None of Mary's friends had arrived for the service yet and John had been unable to contact any of the odd relatives of Mary's that had showed up to her parent's funeral all those years ago. The only number he had found in Mary's address book was the number for a bar in the Dakotas and they had no idea who Mary Campbell was. John finally had to ask. "Who is coming back?"
"Mom." Dean said without hesitation. "When is mom coming back."
John rocked back on his heels for a second, it felt like he had been slugged in the face for a moment the sting of his son's words hurt so bad. He blinked back tears as he tried to keep his voice level. "Dean, we talked about this. Mom is...mom is gone. She went to heaven to live with God."
Dean nodded not the least bit confused. "I know. When is she coming back to life though?"
John froze, not sure how to answer that question. Where would Dean get the insane idea that his mom would be coming back to life? He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Dean, people don't come back to life. She's, she's dead son."
"I know she's dead!" Dean said suddenly. "But Jesus came back to life after three days all he did was heal some sick people! Mom was way nicer than that and besides she always said her prayers with me and said that angels were looking out for us and all that good stuff! So she should get to come back too! It's been three days so does it take longer for girls to come back?"
John's face was frozen as Dean laid out his logic out for him. Mary had always had more faith than he did when it came to religion. She always said that things like holy water and silver had power and that power had to come from somewhere. She insisted in taking Dean to church every Sunday and saying his prayer's with him every night but he had no idea how much Dean had believed in it. He knew he should explain it rationally to him, calmly and surely to get the boy to understand. In the rational side of his brain John knew the question was innocent and was just Dean's way of trying to wrap his mind around the fact his mom was gone.
But John wasn't even close to rational at the moment.
"Those are just stories Dean." he said grabbing his son's other shoulder firmly. "Jesus and Noah and the Garden of Eden, they are just stories that people tell each other to feel better."
"But mom said Jesus was the son of God and that he..." the boy started to explain.
"No one comes back to life Dean." John said cutting him off.
"Jesus did!" Dean countered.
"No he didn't!" John said his voice rising. "It's just a stupid story Dean. There is no God and Jesus and all that garbage. There is no master plan from God and he doesn't grant miracles. There is just chaos and violence and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips..." John's voice cracked as emotion swelled up in his throat. "She's not coming back Dean. No one comes back." he said biting back a sob. "I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
"But mom said..." Dean said in a tiny voice.
"Well she was wrong." John said savagely, cutting the conversation off before it got any worse. "Go look after your brother."
Dean stood there as his father walked away wiping his face. The room seemed to grow around him as if he was shrinking and his mind tried to absorb his father's words. He felt his eyes start to sting as the realization that his mom was gone forever began to dawn on him He walked over to the carrier and stood in front of it. Sammy saw the familiar face of his brother and broke out into a slobbering smile. The giggle seemed to make Dean even sadder for some reason and as he sat down he hugged the carrier and Sammy he wondered why people told such horrible stories.
"He was wrong."
Dean looked over at Castiel, his eyes wet. "What?"
"Your father was wrong." Castiel repeated.
Dean wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Well yeah I know that now. Lots of things come back, just none of them good."
Cas took his hand off of Dean's stomach. "You misunderstand. Your father was wrong about those stories, they are real."
Dean gazed at Cas for a full ten seconds in shock before he could force out. "You're gonna try to tell me that everything that happened in the Bible was true?"
"No not everything. The book was not written by God Dean, it was written by man." the angel said rising from the pew.
"So what? You're saying all the problems with it is our fault?" Dean demanded.
"Yes." Castiel said without pause. He paused and then looked back to Dean. "Not all of it."
"So then what parts are true?' Dean said rising. "The flood? Eden? Pillar of Salt?"
"What is and is not real is the point Dean."
"Then what is the point Cas? Cause from where I am standing the only parts about that book that are real, suck" Dean's face was flushed in anger as he advanced on the man.
"The point is that people have faith." he replied calmly. "Faith in the word and the way of the Lord. To go through and prove which parts are real and are not goes in the face of what faith is."
"Enlighten me Yoda. What is faith then?"
"Belief in things not seen. Despite physical proof, the wholehearted belief that there is something more."
Dean scoffed and turned away. "Sounds like a con job to me Cas. Same way I want people to have 'faith' that whatever badge I flash is real despite the fact I know crap about being an FBI agent." Dean blinked twice and paused as Cas stood in front of him. Under his breath he mumbled "I hate it when you do that."
"God is not a con artist Dean." the barest hint of emotion seemed to creep into the angel's voice.
"Isn't he? Just another snake oil dealer promising to cure all what ails you? All for a low, low price of devotion and eternal obedience!"
"It's not like that Dean!" real emotion flooding into his voice.
"PROVE IT!" Dean roared. "Show me a freaking miracle Cas! Just one!"
"YOU AND YOUR BROTHER ARE ALIVE!" Cas screamed back. Dean froze as he continued. "I'm sorry that God did not save your mother or father Dean but you and your brother are living proof that God cares. No angel put you on that plane I did not bring myself back from the dead! You and Sam are who he brought back and that has to mean something." The two of them glared at each other for a few seconds. "You are the miracle Dean. You are the one who came back, not her."
Dean dropped his gaze first as he turned back towards the alter. He looked up at the huge Christ and said in a bitter tone. "Well he fucked up on that one didn't he?"
Dean sat back down with a sigh, his side ached for a moment as he forced himself to take smaller breaths. Cas sat behind him, both of them staring at the carving. Dean took another swig of his flask and began to put it away before he paused and offered it to the angel. Cas looked at it for a second and then took it and finished it off before handing it back. Dean tucked it away and then chuckled to himself. "Did you really just yell at me?"
He didn't even look at him as he said. "You can be quite vexing."
"That isn't a real word Cas."
"Shut up Dean."
They sat there in the silence of the church for almost ten minutes. Finally Dean asked. "Tell me about him."
Cas looked over in surprise. "About who?"
"Jesus. What was he like?" Dean asked.
Cas went back to looking at the statue. "Well to be honest, he was a very funny person."
Dean looked at him. "Seriously?"
Cas nodded. "I heard a story once on the road to Jerusalem he met a man on the road..."