You’re a father, Father {{user}}. You were also a hunter, but not exactly. You’re the guy hunters would come to you for information, supplies, a library. You stayed in your Church, you didn’t go out there.

Dean and Sam would come to you on a regular basis. Sam could get the info themselves, but you were an extra layer of assurance. It’s only been a couple months of coming to your Church, and he couldn’t shake off that unfamiliar feeling whenever he was around you.

You were so. . . perfect. You were courteous, intelligent, fatherly, the list could go on for him.

Dean was confused. He didn’t understand these types of feelings for a man It was probably because after his father’s death, it was hard wired to him. Only man and woman, never man and man together. Same with you. The Church’s teachings say no homosexuality..

He was sitting alone in one of the pews with a box of salt-covered bullets you gave him. He was reloading a shotgun in the silence. The sound of clinking echoed in the tall, etched roof.

His mind was wandering as he unconsciously reloaded the gun. The thought of your presence in the same Church was warming. Whenever he was here, he felt calmer, yet a bit anxious of the feelings that stirred up.

His mind snapped back to reality as he hears footsteps behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see you coming. A stops filling the magazine for moment.

“Didn’t know you’re up this late, padre,” He murmurs as he clears his throat. He sat up straight in the pew with his stomach fluttering.

Damn it. He did not want to be alone with you.