Chapter Text
Pastor Jim called Mather Payne and asked him out to breakfast on Saturday morning.
He also told him that he planned to be in town the day before so that he could spend time with the Singer brothers and watch Dean's first football game. Would Matt like to join Samuel and him?
The teacher was silent; Murphy wondered when was the last time anyone had voluntarily invited Payne to anything. And he guessed that the man had never attended one of the high school's sports events, a fact that would border on heresy in the Heartland.
"Please," said Pastor Jim. "I'd like to get to know you better. And I'm told there will be movie candy and hot buttered popcorn. And cider. And ice cream. And hot dogs. Please?"
Payne said yes, because it appeared that the cleric actually wanted his company. And, maybe, it might be fun. He remembered hearing in the teacher's lounge that the football team this year was very good, and Sammy's older brother Dean, was, in the words of a star-struck, first-year English teacher, "Awesome!"
And, to tell the truth, he liked Jim. He felt the pastor understood him.
"I'll be bringing you a little present," said Murphy.
-----
Before the game, the pastor sat Sammy down at the motel for a very adult talk. Sammy told him that Dr. Payne was definitely different the past week, but in a good way. Just nicer. He didn't call on Sammy to stand and deliver, but he smiled at him and the other students. Instead of lecturing mechanically, he told the class stories about the topic they were studying that week.
He told a funny story about a mistake one of his friends in college made in a chemistry class, which filled the laboratory with purple smoke. He promised to demonstrate the formula in the near future–outside, of course. Very cool.
At first, the students were justifiably skeptical. When one of his new friends told everyone during recess that "Payne-in-the-butt" was probably possessed, Sammy told Pastor Jim that he started laughing so long and loud that he had to pretend that he thought it was a great joke. Which it was, but not how his friends thought.
"That's good to hear, about how Dr. Payne is changing. Really, it's about his true, happier self being revealed."
"Did you put a spell on him?" asked Sammy. The boys knew they could ask Murphy any question, but still, they were also aware that he was a powerful Adept who could intimidate even experienced Hunters like their father and Bobby Singer.
"Sort of, Samuel. It's a kind of brain magic. Not unconditionally successful, but works with most souls most of the time in most situations. And even pure souls, like most earth-bound and mystical animals. I'll show you someday, okay?
"Tonight, we're going to demonstrate to the community that we hold no bad feelings for what happened. That's so that well-intended people don't take sides against Dr. Payne. If they want to be on our side, they will have to be on his side, too."
"That's sneaky, but in a good way," said Sammy.
"Yes it is," said Murphy.
"We are going to focus on the positive qualities of Dr. Payne and reward him with good attention and praise. Nothing over the top, nothing excessive, just the same things you do for people you like. Smile, pay attention, ask questions, be mannerly. Confide in him. Ask for advice. Share your snacks. Tell him a story, Ask him for a story."
"So, can you play along with me? It's the best kind of enchantment," said Murphy, smiling at Sammy.
How could Sammy resist?
Pastor Jim and Sammy met Payne at his apartment. The gift was a sweatshirt emblazoned with the school's sports mascot: a fierce-looking cartoon hawk.
"Maybe not your typical fashion statement, but please, wear this to the game tonight. Trust me."
Payne held the sturdy cotton garment in his hands and shook his head. But then sighed, took off his jacket, and slipped on the sweatshirt over his dress shirt. Fit perfectly.
Pastor Jim was wearing a sweatshirt honoring Iowa's favorite professional baseball team, the Chicago Cubs. When the team won the World Series in 2016, Murphy cried happy tears. Swore to his friends that he had done nothing to affect the outcome. Really?
Sammy wore a t-shirt that Dean had given him, a beloved hand-me-down with a picture of an obscure garage band. By the town's Friday night football standards, all three looked quite stylish.
-----
They walked over to the sports stadium together, which was, as usual, of an impressive size for a small town. But folks would drive 50 miles for a game, so the stands were filling up.
People stared, of course, and people talked, with sidelong glances, whispering behind hands, turning their backs. A few folks with kind hearts and open minds came up and said hello, and if adults called the teacher "Dr. Payne," he corrected them with an earnest smile.
"It's Matt, Matt Payne," and held out his hand. The message was clear: I'm starting fresh. Let's start over.
Sometimes he stammered. Sometimes he pulled away suddenly, too soon. Three steps forward, three steps back. He didn't know what to say after hello, so there were uncomfortable moments of silence.
He was doing exactly what Pastor Jim had told him to do. Gave him a recipe book of building rapport with his students and colleagues. And, despite the stumbles the last week, it seemed to be working. The students in his classes were more attentive. And his co-workers seemed nicer.
So, he was willing to fail. He was trying.
One of the county's notorious bullies showed up, a local high school dropout with a mean mouth who drove a truck for a hardware wholesaler out of Waterloo. He had suffered under Dr. Payne's well-deserved discipline a few years back, and, seeing the teacher, thought he might take a little revenge. Figured no one would step up and help his nemesis, since no one liked him. Or so he thought.
A six-pack he had gulped down earlier gave him courage, meaning muted whatever common sense he had. He tracked Payne, the man with the Cubs sweatshirt, and the boy with the hippie hair to the refreshment stand, where they bought their obligatory game snacks, including a precariously overloaded ice cream cone for the boy. He followed them, and just before they began the climb up into the stands, ensuring he would have an audience, he cut them off and snatched the ice cream cone from the boy, fully intended to ram it into old Payne's face.
The first time Pastor Jim saw Star Wars, he remarked afterwards to his parishioners (like many clergy, he felt obliged to work the popular story into at least one sermon) that the creators had done well describing an extraordinary truth about the world regarding the Force and what it might mean for people who want to live a decent life.
What he didn't say was how shocked he was at how accurate their descriptions were regarding the Power that individual souls could tap into in times of need, created by the harmony of all souls. One of the unexpected consequences of Chuck's authorship, a powerful wellspring of energy, and as we have seen in the canon, a challenge to his seeming omnipotent status. It was where witches and Mages, and Adepts like Pastor Jim, tapped into, aka the Natural World or sometimes called Nature or Natural Law.
A "disturbance in the Force" is a real thing. Which is why it wasn't difficult for the cleric–and young Sammy–to anticipate the planned attack, and it didn't take much forethought for Sammy to push the teacher to the side while Murphy used a fraction of his considerable telekinetic abilities to shove the cone back into the bully's face, without raising a finger. Just an arched eyebrow and a line from St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, one that he allegedly used to banish the snakes from the Emerald Isle. Something his granny taught him to banish bad feelings.
"Oops," said the pastor. "Let's get you another cone, Samuel."
It wasn't very nice, but yes, some of the bystanders applauded and smiled in fellowship with the teacher and his friends.
-----
No one on the football team was upset that Dean was entrusted with the role of quarterback. There were boys who were bigger and more experienced players, but Dean was the whole package–he could throw, run, and stave off attacks. And, despite his superior skills, he didn't have an inflated ego about what his job was on the field. He liked the leadership role–encouraging others, helping teammates who were struggling, keeping their spirits up. He was a genius at tactics and contributed significantly to the playbook.
Coach knew the boy's success was bittersweet. First, because he had an idea what it had cost for a sixteen-year-old boy to play at the competitive level of a star college player. Pastor Jim had sketched what the brothers' lives were like; the coach filled in the details.
Dean was trained to be a soldier, a killer, from early childhood. And in a few months, it would be Sammy's turn to step up.
Most people would consider what the father was putting his sons through to be blatant child abuse, but if the pastor was right, calling Child Protective Services could make the situation worse. And would do no good. The boys would be gone, and probably Jim Murphy would enable their escape across the state line to the north.
Second, and although the coach could see that Dean was enjoying his time on the team, Murphy had warned him that the father could show up anytime, and the boys would be taken away. It was sad that both brothers appeared to accept their fate, but he suspected that Sammy was less resigned. Time would tell.
-----
Dr. Mather Payne, aka Matt, was having a good time. Pastor Jim was a happy and engaging companion, full of jokes and high spirits. He explained the theories behind the plays the boys were running on the field and made them interesting. Made Payne feel like an insider.
Sammy was a delight. Obviously adored his older brother, and the fact that Dean was the star of the game was icing on the cake. Everyone within 20 feet knew that Dean was Sammy's brother, and that he was the Best. Brother. Ever.
During half-time, set aside to allow the crowd to restock on snacks, a steady stream of students, teachers, and family members climbed up to say hello to the two men and the boy.
Sammy was quickly captured by a cohort of his new friends, and with a gift from Pastor Jim, raced down the bleachers to buy ice cream for everyone.
Many years later, while watching the Lord of the Rings movies, an older Matt Payne would be struck how much the elf Legolas reminded him of young Sammy Singer, who seemed to be flying as he rushed down the stands, his friends trailing behind.
-----
Some of the adults lingered to greet this surprising new version of Dr. Payne, now Matt to other adults. Some had heard of Pastor Jim Murphy and wanted to pay their respects as well.
One older woman appeared, struggling up the steps and easing herself down in the seat next to the cleric. She was wrapped in a worn red men's plaid flannel jacket, two sizes too big. Blue eyes fogged over with cataracts, with red-veined cheeks from decades in the fields, and gray hair haphazardly pinned up in a messy braid around her head. The other adults treated her with respect and called her "Ms. Tillie."
She nodded a greeting to Payne. And turned to Murphy.
"Father," she began, and the good pastor did not correct her.
"I know your reputation. You are a Man of God, and some say you can perform miracles. My heart is troubled; can you help me?"
The small crowd of well-wishers moved away to give the woman and the pastor privacy.
She waved down to the field, pointing to a group of the football players gathered around Coach, listening intently.
"My grandson Timothy–he's the tall boy with the black hair–is a senior this year, and in the spring he'll be graduating and moving on to engineering school in Iowa City."
"I know him," said Payne. "He's smart and a hard worker. He will do well.
The teacher decided to give the boy the extra attention he deserved. Maybe help acquire some the books that would be required reading, so Timothy could enter his freshman year well-prepared. And, then it occurred to Payne that it was something he could do for the other students as well.
"What can I do for you?" asked Pastor Jim. He leaned in and offered his hands. She reach over and let him hold hers, rough and red and dry, in his.
"He is such a good boy. He'll be going off to a big university, and I won't be there to protect him."
Matt Payne was sure that the old lady would be a formidable opponent, particularly if someone attacked her family or tried to hurt them in any way. It was not just the muscles, under her countrified clothing, built from her farm work. It was the look on her face-bold and determined.
Pastor Jim closed his eyes. The woman watched him attentively, waiting for him to reveal an important secret.
He opened them and smiled at her.
"Ms. Matilda, you've been a wonderful parent to your grandson. His soul shines because of you. He is safe from harm. Now, let me see what I can do for you. I bet you have some physical aches and pains. Let us pray."
They sat together, eyes closed, holding hands. Then, Murphy leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Tillie's eyes flew open, and even with her reddened cheeks, Payne could see her blush. And smile.
-----
Tillie left just as Sammy returned. He was flanked by a pack of girls and boys, each with a scoop of ice cream in a paper bowl. They waved good-bye and scurried back to their seats. Sammy had balanced two extra bowls, which he passed over to Pastor Jim and Payne. He dug into his jeans with one hand and pulled out the change, but Pastor Jim waved him off.
"Let's get a treat for your brother later," the cleric said.
Both teams were great, but the Hawks had Dean. Afterwards, the boys from the two teams shook hands on the field, and, since the visitors were only a 30-minute drive away, winners and losers reconvened at the local pizza palace.
The two men and the boy got there early enough to snag a small table, with one seat reserved for the star. Dean and the rest of the players tumbled in a few minutes later. Payne figured that Dean would end up hanging with the team, but after making the rounds, shaking hands, and getting hugs from more than a few of the girls, he plopped down at their table. Sammy had already ordered Dean's favorite, heavy with pepperoni and sausage, earning him a one-armed hug in gratitude.
It was crowded and noisy. Pastor Jim loved it, and, much to his surprise, so did Payne.
All sorts of people stopped at their table to congratulate Dean, to meet his famous genius little brother (Payne was starting to understand that the two boys not only loved each other but had a special bond), to greet Pastor Jim, and to see for themselves the changes in the teacher that had the whole town gossiping.
It wasn't Dr. Mather Payne anymore. It was Mr. Payne to the youngsters and Matt to the adults. He wasn't aloof, just shy, the town decided. And he was opening his wallet to buy a round of beer for the grown-ups who imbibed.
("Think of it as an investment," Pastor Jim told him. "And don't worry; this is a teetotaling town, more or less.")
-----
The brothers walked back to the motel. The adrenaline was wearing off, and they plodded together with Dean's arm around his Sammy's shoulder. Payne offered Pastor Jim his guest room for the night, which he accepted with thanks. Let the boys sleep in.
He went back to the motel to grab his duffle bag and to let the boys know that he would see them for lunch. And to congratulate Dean one more time.
-----
The next morning, Pastor Jim learned a lesson, the kind that makes one feel good.
He sat down at the dining table in Matt Payne's apartment and shared a breakfast of toast, juice, and eggs, with cups of strong java from a plugged-in, old-fashioned metal coffee pot. A simple meal–they were both recovering from yesterday's celebrations. They cleared the table, and Murphy pulled out a folder of papers from his bag.
Spread them out on the table in three piles and smiled at the puzzled-looking teacher.
"I've been doing some research on your behalf. Talked to friends and friends of friends around the country. Found three jobs that seem to fit what we talked about last week. One liberal arts college and two universities, all with strong science departments.
"Here's the thing...the positions are not in classrooms. One is in a research laboratory, one is as a historical archivist in a science library, and one is for an administrative position coordinating interdepartmental projects. You are qualified for all of them, and they pay decently with excellent benefits. Room for raises and promotions. They like your writing, too. And two of them have the possibility of being on a tenure track. I talked with my friends and my friends of friends, and you're in, whatever you decide.
"What do you think?"
The good pastor was justifiably proud.
Payne said nothing. He hovered his hands over the piles of documents as if he was deciphering messages from the spirit world during a seance.
Not the reaction the cleric was expecting.
"Well, Jim, you succeeded, but not the way you think," Payne said.
The teacher paused and poured himself another cup of coffee.
Took a sip, cleared his throat, and smiled.
"If I'd been presented these options two weeks ago, I would have been thrilled. Would have followed up on Monday, and, given that one of them would have said yes, I would have given notice on Tuesday, and started packing this coming weekend.
"But I met you. You and your three questions. And then you listened. I felt like I had been listened to for the first time in my life. And you gave me advice, concrete advice, on what I could do to improve how I reacted to people, particularly my students and colleagues. And it's working.
"It's like one of the those laboratory experiments you're assigned in school, when, if you follow the instructions, you get the result. I know people aren't chemicals in test tubes, but I have been astounded at how my world has been changing this week.
"My students are nicer. My colleagues are nicer. And I am happier.
"You know, some people say you are some kind of magician. Maybe so.
"So thank you. You did your job. I'm staying, at least for now."
-----
Twenty-five years later a black muscle car pulled up in front of the new school building at the edge of the not-so-small town in Iowa. The abandoned edifice had been reborn as a community center, local history museum, and art gallery, housing a dozen nonprofit organizations. It was 3 pm, so the Winchester brothers split up, Sam heading towards the principal's office and Dean to the athletic field.
Principal Payne was overjoyed to see Sammy again, and the reunion with the coach was just as sweet for Dean. They had already called Pastor Jim, who would be arriving shortly, and the men had alerted their wives. (Yes, Matt Payne had married that starry-eyed English teacher, the one with the crush on a certain green-eyed football hero.
The group claimed a table at what was the old pizza parlor, now a brewpub with a full dinner menu. It was still a small-enough town that word had spread, even as they were sitting down. Old-timers with long memories wanted to see the Singer Boys, or teachers had a question for their principal, or a parent or student wanted to check in with Coach. So just like that long ago celebration, community members swirled around the their table, then wandered away, leaving the reunion in peace.
"I'd like to say grace," said Matt Payne. His wife and the rest of the table looked at him curiously, but joined hands and bowed their heads.
"Thanks to the universe for the people at this table. I'm a better man for knowing you."
Dean and Sam exchanged glances.
"Goes for Dean and me, as well," said Sam, and the rest of the dinner party nodded in agreement, the wives chastely kissing their husbands and smiling.
"So, Dean, Sam," said Pastor Jim, with mischief in his eyes, "Why not tell everyone what you've been up to the last 25 years?"
"It started in a middle-school science class," said Sam with a straight face, and everyone laughed.
It was going to be an interesting evening, thought Dean.