Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
keep your enemies close
IT ONLY TAKES A MONTH FOR KIT TO SEE THE WINCHESTERS AGAIN.
She'll admit she's taken aback when she hears a knock on the old doors of the chapel; it's a Tuesday morning and their services are only on Sundays, spare for the holidays, but it's not uncommon for people to seek out the solace of the empty pews during the week. Kit's seen herself there too many times to count.
When she opens the door, she sees Sam and Dean standing there, and she gives them a small smile in greeting.
"Well, this is quite the surprise," She steps back, pulling the doors open for them to see down the red-carpeted aisle that leads to the altar. "I wasn't expecting to see y'all again so soon."
"We weren't expecting to be back so soon," Sam says, smiling politely as he walks in, Dean following quietly. "But the Impala's got a– a busted bolt or something–"
"It's her wheel bearings, I've told you a hundred times, Sam," Dean groans, rolling his eyes at his brother. "She needs two new wheel bearings up front, and I gotta look at the axels, 'cause something's groaning down there and I don't like it."
It's Sam's turn to roll his eyes, though he's far used to his brother's dramatics about the car. He's never sure if it's because Dean actually likes the thing, or if it's just because the threat of John taking it away makes him prioritize it.
"Well, if you're looking for a mechanic, there's a shop here in town. Tommy's a good guy, too, he won't overcharge you or nothin'. I can take y'all into the house and call him up, tell him you need some parts. He'll probably have what you need,"
Dean's green eyes scan over Kit, taking in the plain, baggy zip-up jacket she's got halfway zipped up, some old t-shirt beneath it, and her wrinkled jeans that scuff along the floor, covering her boots. She doesn't look like she belongs in a church, but he supposes he's thought that about her since the first time they met.
"That'd be great, thanks."
"It's no problem," She shrugs, smiling as she leads them down the aisle, past the altar draped with a white and gold runner that lays over the edge. A Bible lays open in the middle of it, and Dean runs his eyes over it, seeing illegible pen markings in the margins of it. He wonders if it's her dad's that he uses for sermons, or if it's her personal one. Then he wonders what she thinks about when she reads the Bible. He wonders what it means to her, and what she could possibly have to write about off to the side like that.
"Right this way," She takes them through the private office, out the back door and along a thin dirt path that goes past the shed in the backyard where she teaches Sunday school, to an old farmhouse that looks as stereotypical small-town as the rest of this place does.
