Chapter
2.
Bobby stared at the skinny, pointy-faced animal sitting in the front
seat of
the rented U-Haul truck and watched his friend, Caroline Wells, open
the
vehicle’s door and scoop the creature out. She was a pretty,
middle-aged woman
who was looking like she hadn’t slept well in several days.
She spoke to the animal as she lowered it to the ground. “Jeff,
you’re a
mongoose, you said you wouldn’t like the city. You remember? We
discussed
this.”
Bobby stood a few meters away, next to Caroline’s husband,
The two men watched Caroline, hands on her hips, speak firmly to the
mongoose, though they were too far away to hear what she said.
Bobby cocked his head toward
“You’ve no idea,”
“What’s that?”
“That’s my dear,”
Caroline’s voice raised and Bobby watched as she pointed in the
direction of
the woods behind what was soon to be the Wells’ former home.
“You know that’s your real home out there! Don’t you give me that
look,
mister! You made your decision quite clear.”
She looked up and saw Bobby and her husband watching her. Her tired
expression fell away and a light sparked in her eyes. With one quick
motion she
bundled the mongoose into her arms and strode towards them. She smiled
at Bobby
and her words tumbled out.
“Bobby, you’ve always been such a great friend. And I can’t even
thank you
enough for helping us load up the truck. But, um, could we maybe ask
one more
favor? This is Jeff, he’s a mongoose. Would it be any trouble if we
moved him
out to your place? He pretty much takes care of himself. And really, if
you
just kept something like a nest of hay in that back shed of yours, he’d
be no
trouble. I hate the idea of him being out, what with all the foxes and
coyotes
we have around here.”
Bobby’s eyes were wide and his gaze shifted between
A startled look crossed Caroline’s face before she recovered and
tossed out
a shaky laugh. “Oh, you mean will Eric miss him? Oh, no, it’s
okay. It’s
best if he stays here. We discussed it and we really are all in
agreement.”
For a few seconds Bobby thought Caroline included the mongoose in
the term
‘all’, then he realized she must have meant Davis and their son, Eric.
“I
dunno, Carol… I mean I-”
“Oh please, Bobby. It would do Eric a world of good if he knew Jeff
wasn’t
just going to be on his own.”
Bobby couldn’t ignore the pleading gaze in the woman’s eyes. Even
the
mongoose seemed to be staring at him with a plaintive expression. He
tipped up
the brim of his well-worn baseball cap with one finger. “Well… I guess
he could
keep Rufus company. That old dog will get along with anything.”
------------------------------------------------------
From his spot in the passenger’s seat of the church van John shook
his head
and looked back at Bobby. “Still sticking with the story that you
didn’t know
it could talk? You sure know how to spin ‘em, Singer.”
“I said I didn’t know there was anything strange about it at
first!
Damn thing didn’t do anything out of the ordinary for two whole weeks!
Just sat
in that old plaid chair of mine and watched t.v.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “A mongoose is sitting in your La-Z-Boy
watching
NASCAR and this was normal to you?”
“He didn’t watch NASCAR!” Bobby exclaimed. He lowered his voice and
clarified his statement. “He watched movies.”
“So how did the rest of you get roped in?” Dean wondered how his
father had
agreed to get involved. John Winchester was a leader not a follower.
Bobby, usually a secretive person, eagerly divulged details. “The
thing
drove me nuts! Started speaking to me plain as day, and then it
wouldn’t shut
up. If I didn’t know Davis and Caroline already had that move to
He shook his head and spoke introspectively. “Just not something you
do to a
friend. You don’t just drop a talking mongoose off on a fella without
warning
him.”
Sam didn’t seem concerned with the violation of friendship. “What
did it
talk about?”
“Scarlett and Rhett, mostly,” Bobby said, “but
Caleb leaned forward and rested his arms on the bench seat in front
of him.
“What is he talking about?” he asked his father.
“Gone With the Wind,” Mac said. “Jeff liked movies, especially that
one.”
John looked over his shoulder and a small grin played on his lips.
“The
better question is why was Bobby watching Gone With the Wind?”
All the occupants of the car looked at Bobby who frowned under the
scrutiny.
“It’s a classic,” he muttered.
“ ‘The Godfather’ is a classic,” Caleb corrected.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How did Jeff get to Pastor Jim’s?”
“I was doing double-duty,” Bobby said. “Visiting Fiona and bringing
some
building supplies to Jim. The church was helping rebuild a house
damaged by
fire.”
“And you brought the mongoose?” asked Sam.
Dean smirked. “Maybe it learned some stuff while watching ‘This Old
House’
and wanted to help out.”
Bobby ignored the comment. “Actually, he uh… he wanted to come, to
see the
scenery. He liked riding in the truck. Though he was a real son of a
bitch when
it came to the radio, always tried to find a rap station.”
-------------------------------------------------
Bobby dropped off the last box of nails with Jim and headed back to
his
truck. He expected to see Jeff staring at him from the driver’s seat,
but there
was no sign of the small furry head.
“You best not be messing with my--” Bobby pulled open the door and
froze.
The cab was empty. “Jeff?” Bobby’s heart rate spiked when his scan
under the
seat revealed nothing. “Jeff?! Sonofabitch! The window wasn’t open that
much!”
He slammed the door hard and looked around the parking lot. He’d
just
released a talking mongoose into the general population. For thirty
minutes he
shook landscaping bushes and knelt beside parked cars, calling for Jeff
in a
low, harsh voice.
He leaned against his truck and pulled his ball cap off long enough
to run a
hand through his hair. “Oh man, this is not good. Jeesus, Singer, you
lost a
mongoose. You lost a freakin’ talking mongoose! Okay, let’s think about
this.
He’s a wild animal; he’ll be able to survive on his own.”
His eyes flicked to the church. ‘I should tell Jim... what if
Jeff gets
in the church. Nah, that’s crazy, he’s probably holed up underground by
now. I
should just head home. Just head on back home.’
-------------------------------------------------
Bobby concluded his part of the story. “I figured he’d gone back to
the
wild, him being a wild animal and all.”
Mac stared at the man seated beside him. “Really? Back to the wild?
I never
knew you to be an environmentalist, Bobby. Seems more likely you were
thinking
you should just head home, and Jeff would be someone else’s problem.”
Bobby cast a surprised look from Mac to Caleb, then back to Mac.
“Isn’t Jim
always preaching about privacy?”
Jim fixed a gaze on Bobby via the rearview mirror. “Mackland cannot
read
your mind, as you well know, but it is sounding like you have a
guilty
conscious. Perhaps my sermon about lies of omission is needed?”
Bobby glanced down. “Fine, I’m the bad guy, but you were the one
that wanted
to kill it.”
“Is that why they called you in, Johnny?” Caleb was starting to
piece the
story together.
“Ask the great Dr. Ames.” John looked over his shoulder
towards Mac.
“Dad?” Caleb asked.
“Jim?” Mac redirected.
Jim kept his eyes on the road. “And to think I chose both of you to
lead The
Triad. Evidently, my impressions of strength and trustworthiness were
incorrect.”
Dean worked to get them back on track. “This is something we need to
know
about, Jim. What if we ever come in contact with a talking mongoose?
This is
like research.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Fine. But unlike Bobby, my story is truthful.”
He
glared at Bobby, who sighed in discontent.
---------------------------------------------
Deacon Benjamin caught Jim in the hall as he came in from talking
with
Bobby. “Oh, Pastor Jim, I think I saw Mrs. Aucklann out front a little
bit
ago.”
Jim stifled a sigh. “Confession again? I suppose I shouldn’t
be
surprised anymore. She averages what, five days a week? I’ve run out of
prayer
combinations for penance. I’m just not sure chasing birds out of a
strawberry
garden requires atonement.”
Benjamin’s lips slid into a lopsided grin. “Well now, they are
God’s
creatures. At least we know she’ll be free and clear of all sins when
she
passes through the pearly gates. Maybe she can put in a good word for
us.”
Jim couldn’t help but smile. “She may be 93 years old but sometimes
I think
she’s going to out live all of us.” He hitched a thumb toward the back
parking
lot of the church. “Bobby just dropped off some supplies for the
“Well,” Benjamin said, “I’ll just go handle those. Mrs. Aucklann
does like
you best.”
Jim watched the deacon walk away and swore there was a spring in his
step.
The pastor had long-suspected Benjamin would love to stage a coup and
take over
the small church. It was times like these when Jim considered letting
him have
it. Mrs. Aucklann and all.
--------------------------------------
Jim exited the rectory to see Mrs. Aucklann closing the door to one
of the
confessional booths.
She teetered towards him with a bright smile. “Oh, Pastor Jim, I
love the
new associate minister.” She grasped his arm and gave it a squeeze.
“Such a
charming accent, just like a young James Cagney, don’t you think? I
can't wait
to hear his sermon.”
She didn’t seem to notice the confused look on the pastor’s face.
She
shuffled to the church’s front doors still wearing a delighted grin.
Jim watched her leave, and then crossed to the confessional. He had
not
hired a new associate minister, and if Deacon Benjamin was getting
grandiose
ideas again Jim would have to put a stop to them. He softly knocked on
the door
of the booth he usually occupied. “Hello?”
With his hand on the small silver knob he pulled open the door.
Light
flooded into the closet-sized room. The human he expected to see was
not there.
Instead he stared into the pointed face of a small, furry animal.
“What in the world….”
A well-articulated, warbling voice interrupted Jim as the animal
introduced
itself. The presentation was so composed and polite the pastor felt a
momentary
urge to extend his hand and reply. However, the bizarre realization of
the
situation hit him and he slammed the door.
Thoughts rushed through his brain as he scanned the church to see if
anybody
else was around. ‘Is this a practical joke? It looked so real.’
He’d seen so many unnatural things in his time with The Brotherhood.
But a
talking mongoose in a church’s confessional was beyond anything he had
experienced. He’d need to do some research. He also needed to get that
thing
out of his church.
A muffled voice from behind the door prodded Jim to act. Looking
around, he
spotted a slim wicker basket that held decorative dried reeds. Keeping
one hand
pressed against the door, he grabbed the basket, and shook the contents
to the
floor. He slipped out of his black jacket and positioned the basket
next to the
confessional.
He flung open the door and, with speed honed by years as a hunter,
scooped
up the mongoose, maneuvered it into the basket and stuffed his jacket
into the
container’s narrow opening. The basket shook as the squirming,
complaining
animal fought against its capture.
Jim dashed for his truck, carrying the basket close in an effort to
diminish
the vocalizations. In the truck, he buckled the basket into the
passenger seat.
Anyone who ever teased him about being an overly-careful driver would
have been
stunned by the ten-minute trip home cut to four minutes.
The truck tires squealed against the pressure of a corner taken too
fast.
Jim pretended not to notice Mr. Simms waving and looking confused. Next
time
the man came to confession, Jim would let him off with one Our Father.
Rolling up to the barn, Jim tried to ignore the continuous stream of
muffled
dialogue, which alternated between cajoling and cursing. He opened the
barn
door and threw the basket - jacket, mongoose and all - inside, and
pulled the
door shut.
In the house, he stood with the phone receiver pressed to his ear;
tapping
his foot and listening to the dull pulse of Mac’s phone go unanswered.
Jim
thought a call from The Guardian should be considered paramount. He
further
decided a red hotline phone should be added to The Triad’s
communication
system. Finally, Mac answered.
“You need to come to
“Why? What's wrong? Are you okay? The boys?”
Jim frowned. ‘Would it be so hard if, for once, The Guardian’s
order was
not questioned?’
“No, no, everybody’s fine. There’s a… I have another issue.”
Mac paused before replying. “You’re usually not mysterious.”
Jim unconsciously gripped the collar he held. He really didn’t want
to
explain, but the stress of his situation allowed the truth to slip out.
“I
found a talking mongoose in my confessional.”
“Excuse me.”
“A mongoose,” he repeated, “and it talks, quite a lot actually.
Mackland,
listen carefully, there’s no time for discussion. I am The Guardian.
You are
The Scholar. There is a very disturbing mongoose locked in my barn. I
need your
services. I expect you on the next flight.”
Mac coughed, but it sounded more like a chuckle. “I’m not a vet.”
“I don’t care what you are, get here! Next flight!”
------------------------------------------------------
Bobby interrupted the story. “So that’s how you found Jeff. I always
wondered how Mac got involved.”
“Well, if you’d been there, you’d have known,” Mac said. “It was
your
fault.”
“You’re part of the fancy-pants Triad,” Bobby replied, crossing his
arms.
“You couldn’t have figured something out?”
“I did,” Mac smugly said. “I talked to him. He said you didn’t even
bother
looking for him, Bobby.” Mac raised his brows, taunting the other man
to
disagree. “You know, his lifelong dream was to become an actor.”
Caleb gave his father a strange look, as if questioning his sanity.
“Dad?”
Mac understood the look and did not like it. “What? I asked him what
his
dreams were. Establishing a dialogue is something I do with any of my
patients.”
“This was a talking mongoose.” Caleb spoke slowly and with
emphasis.
“Don’t you take the tone with me, because I will take away your
trust fund.”
Mac stared at his son, who only grinned back.
“My kids at least listen to me,” John said. “But, please, tell us
all the
story about how Doctor Ames tried to cure the patient.”
Mac frowned. He really did not like these men at the moment. And
being
trapped in Jim’s wretched church van didn’t help. ‘Wait a minute,
I’m
wealthy. I can arrange for this thing to be scrapped and replaced with
something new. Better yet, I’ll arrange my own transportation. I’ll
never
travel with any of them again.’
“Dad?”
Mac was jerked back to reality. “Hmm? Oh. Well, as usual, I was
asked to
apply my brand of finesse to the situation.”
-----------------------------------------------
Flights from JFK to
“Jim. How are you?”
“I'm perfectly fine, Mackland.” Jim’s arms were folded across his
chest and
he stared, unblinking, at Mac.
“And the… mongoose?” Mac hoped this was all an elaborate practical
joke, or
at the worst a moment of temporary insanity. Perhaps The Guardian
position had
become too much.
“Jeffrey is in the house.”
“It has a name?” Mac blurted. “Wait, you allowed it in the house?”
Jokes or
insanity aside, a mongoose was not a domesticated animal.
The swing kept a constant tempo; it seemed like an
obsessive-compulsive activity
rather than a soothing one. “I didn’t have much choice,” Jim said. “The
animals
in the barn were acting strangely. I thought there could be a risk of
sedition.”
“Sedition?” Mac was unsure if he’d misheard. He backed up a step,
the hunter
part of him expecting a supernatural attack.
“Yes.” Jim nodded, and then gestured to the house. “Go ahead. He's
waiting
for you.”
Mac dropped his overnight bag near the door and mumbled over his
shoulder.
“Domine lesu Christe-”
“I'm perfectly fine, Mackland,” said Jim, not even looking at his
friend.
Mac squared his shoulders and opened the front door. Voices from the
television, although low, could be heard throughout the main floor of
the
house.
Mac wasn’t sure what to expect. “Hello?”
He wandered deeper into the home, not wanting to surprise the
mongoose, or
worse, have it surprise him. A reply from the overstuffed chair in
front of the
television was, nonetheless, surprising.
Mac blinked, then blinked again. The mongoose sat in Jim's chair,
looking
quite comfortable. And it had just answered his greeting. Mac was
unaware of
his mouth dropping open as he watched the mongoose's lips move. He
wasn’t even
sure mongooses had lips.
“Uh, umm, yes.” Mac winced as his voice cracked. Dark, liquid eyes
focused
on him. Mac stared at the little pink nose and gray whiskers that
twitched when
the mongoose asked him a question in a squeaky voice. Mac regained his
composure and sat on the end of the couch furthest from the slim rodent.
“Pastor Jim called me. He’s a bit concerned.”
Jeff began to talk and it didn’t take long for Mac to understand the
emotion
behind the expression Pastor Jim had worn earlier. ‘Dear God, does
it ever
shut up?’
While the mongoose bore no initial indication of evil, Mac wondered
if it
truly was malevolent - wearing down its unsuspecting victims with inane
chatter
and mind-numbing stories of its history until they were lulled into a
stupor
and ripe for possession.
Mac’s eye drifted out the window to his rental car. He could leave
through
the back door, give up The Brotherhood and no one would ever know he
talked to
a mongoose.
He heard the chipper voice mention a familiar name. “Bobby?” Mac
repeated.
So much became clear. Bobby Singer, of course, had to be involved.
An hour later Mac joined Jim on the porch. The pastor had ceased his
compulsive swinging and silence settled between the two men. Mac rested
his
hands on his hips and gazed out to the gravel drive. “You have a
talking
mongoose named Jeff in your living room.”
“And you can do something about it?”
Mac sighed. “This is beyond me. I need a drink.”
Jim began rocking again. Scout, who had been lying peacefully by the
pastor,
moved toward Mac with a whine.
“We can’t let a talking mongoose just run around.” Jim said. “It’s
wrong.”
Mac glanced at the dog by his feet. When he decided to be a part of
The
Brotherhood, and later The Scholar, he expected excitement and danger,
but not
this. “Have you called John?”
“No, I thought this would be a job for The Scholar.”
Brains were not needed to deal with Jeff, brawn was. “I think this
is one
for The Knight.” Mac crossed his arms. John could handle it; he would
probably
even enjoy it - live target practice.
“Hmmm.” Jim stopped swinging. “You could be right. He is the
defender….”
-------------------------------------
“You wanted John to kill Jeff?” Bobby seemed shocked. Sure he
thought the
mongoose had been annoying, but outright murder, by The Triad no less.
It was
better to think he could have died of natural causes, been eaten by
another
animal, or run over by a car.
Caleb grinned. “You know how it is Bobby; you need to use people you
trust.”
He altered the tone of his voice and looked at Dean. “I want somebody
good -
and I mean very good - to plant that gun.” The dialogue from ‘The
Godfather’
rolled out easily. “I don't want my brother coming out of that toilet
with just
his dick in his hands, alright?”
Dean picked up the next line. “The gun'll be there.”
“Boys,” Jim said, “The Brotherhood is not linked to the Mafia, as I
have
told you many times.” He narrowed his eyes while staring at the boys in
the
rearview mirror.
John looked at Mac. “Your son introduced my son to that particular
movie.”
“It is a classic,” Mac weakly mimicked his son's answer from almost
an hour
before. He had yet to see the movie all the way through himself.
John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they passed the buck to me, calling in
the
muscle. And I have to say I felt used.” John shifted uncomfortably in
the
passenger’s seat. “I never should have answered the phone.”
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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