Faith
Title: Faith
Characters: Pastor Jim Murphy, Meg
Rating: PG
Summary: Pastor Jim had always believed God's house was protected from demons.
A/N: Written for spn_las, Prompt was for a character facing his or her worst fears.
The church had always been a sanctuary, a tangible symbol of his faith, and there was nowhere Pastor Jim Murphy would rather be. This morning he’d straightened up after mass- his was a small flock and it wasn’t a hardship for him to take care of everything himself so his regular cleaning lady could spend the morning with her ailing mother. He put the hymnals away absently, thoughts miles away, then moved to the altar to read his bible. Signs and portents of demonic energy had been cropping up for the past few months, and he’d been getting reports from John and Bobby that had been more than disturbing. Jim was a man of faith, but he was also a hunter and he’d been putting a lot of time into researching his religious texts, sure that there was something in them that could help. He was distracted from his reverie by the sound of the door opening. The church was never locked- Jim wanted the comfort of the Lord available to any who wanted it, no matter what time it was.
The woman walking down the aisle moved hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure she should be here. She looked uncertain, said that she needed to talk. He’d had many young people come into his church, unsure of where their lives were going, and most had left with knowledge of choices they hadn’t even suspected were possible. He wouldn’t even hazard a guess as to why this woman had come to him, but as she settled herself into a pew, he moved toward her with a smile. She smiled back, and started a litany familiar to Jim.
She’d done bad things, she said, then asked if God’s forgiveness was for everyone. Jim believed it was. Salvation was created for sinners, was an oft repeated mantra in his church and he brought it out now. The girl gave a small smile and started her confession. It was pretty standard at first- lying, stealing, lust, but then she started in about a man she had just met. Instead of him being married, or abusive, as Jim expected, she confessed to brutally murdering him. She slowly closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they were covered with an inky blackness.
Jim hadn’t warded the church, hadn’t thought it was necessary. This was holy ground, consecrated and even the Morningstar himself shouldn’t have been able to walk through its doors. This creature swiftly disabused him of that notion. When the demon showed herself to him, he headed straight for the weapons room he had hidden in the basement. He knew she followed him, across the altar, through the sacristy and down the stairs. There wasn’t a weapon here that would stop her, but maybe one would slow her down long enough that he could exorcise her.
His mind whirled as he ran. She was a lesser demon. A lesser demon and she was walking in God’s house with no consequences. His church had never been tested, but he’d thought that evil couldn’t come here, that the Lord protected this place and all places like it. Jim’s faith had been challenged before but now, when he was sure he was about to die, it faced its sternest test.
Jim barred the door of his panic room, ran to his weapons cache. He discarded the idea of a gun immediately. No bullet would stop this hellspawn. His hands closed around the hilt of a knife, carved with religious symbols that this thing shouldn’t be able to withstand, and when she broke through the doors he hurled it at her.
She caught the knife effortlessly, held it in a hand that should be burning from contact with the blessed metal. She told him she was looking for the Winchesters, and God help him, he should have known. All the signs lately, all the demonic omens. John had been closing in on the demon that killed his wife and now the demons were hunting him as well. Jim knew good and well where John was, where his boys were, but there was no way he’d ever betray them. The demon smiled, said she knew that Jim would never tell her where the Winchesters were and then she slit his throat with his own consecrated knife.
Jim clutched his throat, eyes dimming as he watched his murderer walk back up the stairs to what he had thought was holy ground. What he had thought was protected by the God he’d spent his life believing in, worshipping. The next thing he knew, he was standing over his own body, staring at a spectral man in a black suit.
“What comes next?” he asked hesitantly, hating this new doubt when he’d always been so sure.
Fear flared in his chest when the reaper just smiled enigmatically and reached for his hand.
Characters: Pastor Jim Murphy, Meg
Rating: PG
Summary: Pastor Jim had always believed God's house was protected from demons.
A/N: Written for spn_las, Prompt was for a character facing his or her worst fears.
The church had always been a sanctuary, a tangible symbol of his faith, and there was nowhere Pastor Jim Murphy would rather be. This morning he’d straightened up after mass- his was a small flock and it wasn’t a hardship for him to take care of everything himself so his regular cleaning lady could spend the morning with her ailing mother. He put the hymnals away absently, thoughts miles away, then moved to the altar to read his bible. Signs and portents of demonic energy had been cropping up for the past few months, and he’d been getting reports from John and Bobby that had been more than disturbing. Jim was a man of faith, but he was also a hunter and he’d been putting a lot of time into researching his religious texts, sure that there was something in them that could help. He was distracted from his reverie by the sound of the door opening. The church was never locked- Jim wanted the comfort of the Lord available to any who wanted it, no matter what time it was.
The woman walking down the aisle moved hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure she should be here. She looked uncertain, said that she needed to talk. He’d had many young people come into his church, unsure of where their lives were going, and most had left with knowledge of choices they hadn’t even suspected were possible. He wouldn’t even hazard a guess as to why this woman had come to him, but as she settled herself into a pew, he moved toward her with a smile. She smiled back, and started a litany familiar to Jim.
She’d done bad things, she said, then asked if God’s forgiveness was for everyone. Jim believed it was. Salvation was created for sinners, was an oft repeated mantra in his church and he brought it out now. The girl gave a small smile and started her confession. It was pretty standard at first- lying, stealing, lust, but then she started in about a man she had just met. Instead of him being married, or abusive, as Jim expected, she confessed to brutally murdering him. She slowly closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they were covered with an inky blackness.
Jim hadn’t warded the church, hadn’t thought it was necessary. This was holy ground, consecrated and even the Morningstar himself shouldn’t have been able to walk through its doors. This creature swiftly disabused him of that notion. When the demon showed herself to him, he headed straight for the weapons room he had hidden in the basement. He knew she followed him, across the altar, through the sacristy and down the stairs. There wasn’t a weapon here that would stop her, but maybe one would slow her down long enough that he could exorcise her.
His mind whirled as he ran. She was a lesser demon. A lesser demon and she was walking in God’s house with no consequences. His church had never been tested, but he’d thought that evil couldn’t come here, that the Lord protected this place and all places like it. Jim’s faith had been challenged before but now, when he was sure he was about to die, it faced its sternest test.
Jim barred the door of his panic room, ran to his weapons cache. He discarded the idea of a gun immediately. No bullet would stop this hellspawn. His hands closed around the hilt of a knife, carved with religious symbols that this thing shouldn’t be able to withstand, and when she broke through the doors he hurled it at her.
She caught the knife effortlessly, held it in a hand that should be burning from contact with the blessed metal. She told him she was looking for the Winchesters, and God help him, he should have known. All the signs lately, all the demonic omens. John had been closing in on the demon that killed his wife and now the demons were hunting him as well. Jim knew good and well where John was, where his boys were, but there was no way he’d ever betray them. The demon smiled, said she knew that Jim would never tell her where the Winchesters were and then she slit his throat with his own consecrated knife.
Jim clutched his throat, eyes dimming as he watched his murderer walk back up the stairs to what he had thought was holy ground. What he had thought was protected by the God he’d spent his life believing in, worshipping. The next thing he knew, he was standing over his own body, staring at a spectral man in a black suit.
“What comes next?” he asked hesitantly, hating this new doubt when he’d always been so sure.
Fear flared in his chest when the reaper just smiled enigmatically and reached for his hand.