Title: The Unlikely Prayer
Genre: Gen, Dean/Layla
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone affiliated with the show Supernatural. I don't own so don't sue.

Summary: "Dean clamps his eyes shut for a moment, not saying anything, and that's all the answer she needs. She steps up a little closer to him and he goes rigid as he feels her barricade his personal space, smelling of flowers and homework. She places her hands on his shoulders and whispers, "Didn't you pray for me, Dean?"

It isn't a surprise seeing Dean standing outside of the motel room waiting to come inside. It's the pale skin and dark shadows around his brother's eyes that Sam can't stomach. Sam notices the fact that Dean is favoring his left arm up and holding it to his chest, nursing the throb that Sam knows Dean has from the damage to his heart.

It's twisted to see Dean ease himself down into a chair like a man well into his eighties. The black hoody he's wearing just intensifies how vulnerable his big brother looks. Hoodies were Sam's thing. If the circumstances were different he would use Dean's own jokes that are usually pointed toward Sam against him. He'd joke that Dean was the one who looked like the emo with the dark circles around his eyes, whilst sporting the oversized black hoody. But the reality put a damper on any need to joke away the awkwardness of his brother looking weaker than the little old man that runs this motel.

Dean, holding his head at an awkward angle, no doubt paining himself just to stay sitting upright, is breathing hard, deep short breaths, as if just calling a cab and getting here was the equivalent of running the distance.

Sam wants to hug him. He knows better though. Dean may be dying, but he's still Dean. And Dean still has an ego the size of the country. Besides, Sam has the feeling that if he were to hug him that Dean would more than likely lose the last of his strength just to push him away. And Sam doesn't really know what would hurt worse, Dean's death stimulated by the need to shrug off the comfort, or being pushed away by his older brother.

A light sheen of sweat has broke out on his brothers forehead and Sam takes it upon himself and grabs a handful of the material of the hoody at Dean's chest, ignoring his brother's protests of, "Off me, not dead yet!" and, "You may be like a foot taller, dude, but I can still take you!"

When Sam gets him pulled out of the chair and backs him up to the bed, he does something, it's mean, manhandling him like this, but even a dying Dean can get on his nerves. Sam lays his gargantuan paw on Dean's head and pushes his older brother backwards to make him lay down. It doesn't take any effort at all to get his brother flat on his back, and he's almost glad that their father hasn't cared to call back after the message he left on his voice mail about Dean's current condition. Dean was always their dad's favorite, and if he had to see him like this, it would...

"Hey, not cool! I'm at a disadvantage here!" Dean complains, and Sam's sure that Dean doesn't mean for it to come out as much of a whine as it does.

"Oh really? I thought you could still take me on, big brother," he teases.

Dean only lifts his head long enough to set Sam with the mother of all big-brother glares before his head falls back to the mattress from the exhaustion of the over exertion.

Dean doesn't say anything as Sam reaches down and unties each boot and slips them off of his feet. He does however, groan in an annoyed protest when Sam picks up his legs and turns them, sliding them onto the bed so that Dean doesn't have to sleep halfway on the mattress.

Sam reaches over and switches off the bedside lamp and sits down at the rickety, unbalanced table in front of his laptop. He sighs deeply, glad that Dean didn't put up too much of a fight. Rest is detrimental after one has suffered a major heart-attack by electrocution.

"Not dying S'mmy," Dean's weakened voice breaks the silence.

Sam closes his eyes against the pitiful tremor in his brothers weakened voice.

"Maybe you can take me to one of those faith healers or somethin' that you sometimes watch on TV. And don't even think about denying it either, little brother. I've seen you watching that crap. Big brother's always watching," Dean jokingly finishes with.

Just a few seconds after Dean gets quiet Sam listens carefully to make sure his brother is still breathing in the dark from across the room. When his eyes adjust to the lack of light, he looks over at the dark lump of Dean sprawled out on the bed. He watches his big brother's chest rise and fall with barely-there shallow breaths.

Sam thinks to the night before last, when Dean was electrocuted. Limp, in a puddle of water, a dead Rawhead nearby, the two children were finally safe, but his brother on the other hand...

He runs his hand through his hair, fighting the cold chills stimulated by the memory of searching for Dean, only to find him unconscious, with the tazer lying next to him in the water. He still feels that rush of adrenaline-fear-dread hit him every time he remembers that feeling of when he thought that Dean was dead-gone. He remembers stomping his way through the puddle to his brother, Dean's limp body, the way he wouldn't wake up. It makes his eyes sting and he forces his self not to cry. He's already done that enough when Dean was at the hospital.

When he forces himself to turn back to the computer the last thing that Dean said before he fell-out runs though his mind.

Huh...

…

After hours of research, Sam finally rips his eyes away from the screen and looks over at Dean for a minute or two, wondering when and if their dad will call; wondering if Dean will make it through the night; wondering if his big brother would mind if he crawled in next to him tonight. Then he sneers at himself, because he knows the answer to that. He's a grown man and he should act like it. So what if Dean's sick right now, Sam's got a plan.

He shuts his laptop and rubs his tired eyes, stretching out his long limbs in front of him, jostling the unsteady table from underneath. He pops his neck, stands up, and makes his way over to the bed. He kicks off his boots and climbs on.

He smirks. Dean's going to be pissed in the morning. Especially seeing as how his twenty-two year old self is sleeping a foot away from his big brother in the same bed. Macho-adult-status be darned.

…

Sam pulls the Impala into the muddy drive leading to a tent in a pasture, and no doubt, Dean's pale eyes come alive when he turns to him. "You didn't!"

"It was your idea," Sam says in a controlled tone, not wanting to rise to the occasion. Dean would love to steer his attention as well as the Impala right on out of this place. He's not going to give him the satisfaction though. Not today.

After Sam parks, Dean gets out of the car. And much to Sam's surprise, his brother gets out of the car without having to be dragged out. So Dean can complain all he wants, but the evidence is there just under the surface. He will try whatever he has to because he doesn't want to die.

Sam thinks that sometimes his brother can be so human, no matter how much he'd like to think of his self as invincible.

First rattle out of the field, and Dean spots the thing he knows most about, a woman. Leave it up to the man to hit on a chick at a faith healing convention.

Layla is sweet enough, soft spoken and smiling even though she's here probably for the same reason that everyone else is, to get healed. But she looks fine, so it's probably something internal, and Sam doesn't really want to imagine what could be wrong internally with someone who seems to be so soft spoken and so kind. But God bless her for being here, because thanks to her pretty face, Dean's smiling a little, and acting like a dog in heat; so much like his old self that for a moment Sam thinks maybe they don't need to test this whole faith healing thing out after all. But no time to wonder, really, because Dean's already following Layla inside the tent.

Sam secretly looks up and thanks God for sending a pretty girl to lead his brother into the church, because it doesn't matter how he got there, as long as he gets there. But now he just has to laugh to himself, because Dean just stepped into church, willingly.

…

Once inside, getting Dean to sit up front is like trying to get the keys to the Impala away from him this morning, and it embarrasses Sam's a little when Dean pushes him away while they are making their way to the seats nearer to the front. He's mother-henning him, he knows, but not purposely.

The blind faith healer Rev. Roy Lagrange, has a good ear; picks Dean's sarcasm up right away. But it doesn't take long for the healer to get Dean up there on the stage. The man may not have his sight, but he can see more than most. For instance... Dean's here to get healed. His pride would have never allowed him to stand up and ask to be healed. The healer senses that, and smiles, beckoning him on the stage.

Of course Dean is reluctant, and it's one of the very few times Sam has ever seen Dean act shy. His brother's tousled hair, with the lack of gel, because of the exhaustion keeping him from wanting to actually fix it this morning, only adds to the whole problem with him wanting to take care of him. It takes everything he has not to get up and get onto that stage with him just so he would be within reach.

Something happens when that faith healer lays his hand on Dean. Sam sits frozen to his chair with every ounce of adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him ready to get up and yank Dean from that stage if need be. And once he watches his brother collapse, he's on the stage in lightening speed.

"NO, no! Not again!" Sam screams in his head. Dean's down, with his eyes closed. For a moment Sam thinks that Dean's heart chose now to finally give out. Toosoontoosoontoosoon... Sam chokes the sob down, reaches down for his big brother, every bit ready to beg him not to leave him here. But then... Dean wakes with a gasp, wide eyed with blood instantly flooding beneath the skin of his cheeks, feeding some color back into face.

Even if Sam was the one that brought him here, he never expected it to work.

…

It worked, the doctor gave him a clean bill of health, and Dean isn't having it. Sam isn't convinced that Dean knows what he's talking about. The too good to be true thing is the furthest thing from Sam's mind, simply because he wants it to be. His brother isn't dying anymore. He won't be making funeral arrangements any time soon, and Dean wants him to look their gift horse in the mouth? He really doesn't want to hear his big brother out on this one, but Dean doesn't usually talk too much about feelings, so when his big brother says that something doesn't feel right, then he really can't help but to listen.

...

"I'm sorry," Sam says when Dean enters their motel room. He proceeds to explain to Dean that his gift of life wasn't free by a long-shot, but that each time someone is healed by Reverend Lagrange, someone else has to die to take their place. It breaks Sam's heart apart to give Dean the news that someone is now dead because he's alive.

By the clouded look in Dean's eyes Sam can tell he would go back, stay dying, if it meant that the other person would stay alive. He knows his brother. Dean feels that he's killed someone. Sam knows there isn't any getting Dean to see the gray here. It doesn't matter that they were innocently deceived, that they didn't have a clue what was really going on. Dean will never forgive himself for being alive after this.

The Winchesters do what they do best and dig around, putting the pieces together. Black magic is the culprit, and disappointment fills them both even further. Although, Dean would never admit to actually being let down by a preacher. But he kind of did like the guy.

"You know, it's sick people like that, that give the real deal a bad name," Sam states, and Dean snaps his head up, and looks at him incredulously. "You're not saying that you still think that this faith healing crap is real, do you?"

Sam looks down unable to meet his brother's patronizing gaze, and then after a moment, earnest eyes turn on Dean in the worst kind of heart tugging way. "If bad supernatural things can exist, then why can't good supernatural stuff exist too?"

Dean looks at his younger brother, swallowing his next words instead of spilling them, of just how childish a person would have to be to believe that. But Sam's stature looks every bit as child-like as it did when he was ten years old and sulking in the backseat when their dad past a church on Sunday while they were heading to New Mexico. Back hunched, shoulders turning inward into his self, head down with bangs in his sullen eyes.

The one thing that bothered Dean so much when Sam found their dad's journal and read it without permission is that Sam lost his innocence. The kid in him? Gone. Thanks to harsh realities. Dean knew that once their dad found out that Sam knew the truth about the supernatural, then their dad would automatically start training him to hunt. So Dean will let Sam have this. If he wants to believe in something with a child-like faith, who is he to stand in the way.

It doesn't help Dean's faith at all though thinking about when he has to look a soft-spoken beauty like Layla from the faith healing convention, in the face and know that she has a brain tumor a few inches behind her pretty blue eyes. Nonetheless, all the while his faith is non-existent; the chick just keeps right on smiling during the sadness, saying that 'it's okay.' She's a good girl, better than most, and strong to boot. And he's going to have to stop the preacher from healing anyone again, and that includes her. Yep, the unfairness of it all doesn't help his faith at all.

…

Dean actually finds it kind of fun to interrupt a church session, but would enjoy it more if Layla's healing process doesn't have to be stopped in the process. He considers just dropping this whole course of action to stop what Sam and he know what's really going on at these faith healings. It would be so easy to turn tail and run and never look back, just knowing that Layla would be healed would be worth it... wouldn't it?

And he chews on that thought as long as he can, but he finally swallows down the truth for what it is. If Layla knew what was really going on... if her faith was really so strong and dedicated to her God, then she would be devastated to ever find out that it wasn't her God that healed her at all; but that it was black magic, and that someone died for her to live.

Dean makes up his mind.

He can't allow her to be saved tonight.

...

Twists take their turns and darkness comes to light. Who would have thought that a preachers wife would be a witch; a witch using witchcraft to give her husband the ability to heal. And sadly, to kill as well.

The bad part is that Layla doesn't understand and he can't exactly tell her why he can't allow her to be healed. There isn't enough time to explain and make her believe him. She looks hurt by him as if he wants her to stay dying. With his chest pain free, he stands here feeling like it should have been her on that stage instead of him that night if someone were going to pay the price for someone else to be healed. He would have gladly let her have that one. Her conscience would be free of the knowledge of what really happened and she wouldn't be dying in a couple of months. She would be making plans to possibly go on vacation, or go out on a date with her weird neighbor. Instead, she stands fast in her faith, even when he screws up her chance to be healed, and even in the face of death.

Layla quickly allows the hurt that he has caused her to dissolve into something like a clueless understanding, (if there ever was one,) and she tells him that she wishes him luck anyway.

That part messed him up for days.

…

It's the day after and the Winchester are done with this town. All Dean really wants it to load up, head out, and put this all behind them. H's still beating his self up and questioning in his head if he did the right thing when he and Sam hear a knock on the door.

It's Layla.

Sam goes out for a soda. Very subtle. And Dean's heart bleeds for Layla. He can't help but to look at it in all of the most morbid ways. He had to basically make her keep a death sentence in order to save someone else.

He was instantly attracted to her from the moment he saw her, and he's no less attracted now. Not his usual type; just something about her.

He wants so bad to understand how she can sit down next to him without breaking down. She knows she's going to die and she's smiling peacefully. Dean wants to scream.

She's as old as he is, but her deep faith and wisdom concerning all of the sadness makes him feel light-years younger than she.

It's time for her to go and he wants to keep her here with him. Seeing her alive makes him feel like he can somehow keep her that way if she just stays.

It's doing things to him that a woman like her can be so strong. Whenever the doctors gave it to him straight, concerning his condition, just like he asked them to, sure he held it together, but only because he could hear his little brothers voice down the hall; all devastated and tearful as the doctor broke the news to him. It wasn't until after Sam finally left that night to check into a motel, and he was finally alone in his hospital room, lying in bed, that Dean lost it. It wasn't so much the dying part, as it was about having to leave his brother and dad behind, but it had him scared nonetheless. It had him bawling like he never had before. That's the night he ripped the IV's out and stole out of the bed, got dressed, and shagged it in stealth-mode. He needed to be with his brother.

Watching Layla stand to leave makes him want to say so many things. He wants to promise that he will try and save her, but then it hits him where it hurts; this kind of thing, he can't do anything about. His hands are tied. But then in the deepest depth of his mind, the place where he keeps his desperate thoughts, something dawns on him, and he's sure it's going to sound stupid, and meaningless, but it's all he's got.

"Layla?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't pray... but I'm going to pray for you," he says and he means it. Oh how he means it. It makes him feel helpless that he can't reach for a weapon and take out the thing that's killing her, but if there's a chance that praying will actually do something, anything, then he'd be damned if he doesn't pray.

She smiles a smile then that lifts the sad tension from the room so noticeably that Dean fights not to feel proud of himself for causing it.

"Well then there's a miracle right there," she says, and really, he doesn't know how he feels about those soft spoken words from her.

…

Two years later in Blue Earth, Minnesota, Dean is Officer Rogers today, minus a sweater thank you very much. He straightens his tie, ready to manipulate some answers from the tenth grade Algebra school teacher. Something's floating around causing something a lot like Mononucleosis, the kissing disease. But instead of fatigue and fever, it's causing... and Dean got a kick out of this one... for all of the kids to pay attention in class, act respectful, oh and the clincher? It's causing them all to pass. But no one expected anything wrong until a student got a ninety-eight on a science project and went home offed herself.

Dean knocks on the classroom door, 16 B, and begins to hear the click of heels advancing towards the door. As the door opens, a soft voice speaks through, "May I hel-" and stops in its tracks.

Dean can't believe his eyes. He blinks. Can't be...

He knew from the voice it's self, but to actually be standing here right in front of... Layla? The Layla that was dying in a few months so long ago? To be standing here seeing her, alive, and well... Dean's knees nearly buckle.

"Layla?" he croaks out.

"Dean!" Layla smiles cheerfully. Arms circle around his neck, squeezing tight; something like relief and gratitude oozing from her. "I thought I would never see you again!" she exclaims.

He pulls back from her, hands on her hips, holding her at arm's length to get a good look at her. "What in the-? Me? I- I never thought that I would see you again," he says incredulously, just barely above a whisper. It's all he can muster. He's grateful; he really is, but how?

Layla takes his hand leading him into her classroom, shuts the door, and begins to pace nervously in front of her desk, as if readying herself to say something that takes great effort. Dean imagines she does that a dozen times a day as she teaches. He almost sits his self into one of the desk chairs just to give her the upper-hand, but thinks better of it, not sure that he can keep his thoughts from straying. He never was good at paying attention in class. Especially if the teacher was hot.

He comically watches, still not believing he's standing in front of Layla, who is very much alive. He doesn't know whether to feel elated or question it, so all he says is, "Christo."

Layla instantly turns to face him and he stops breathing, waiting for black eyes, a flicker of anger, something. When suddenly...

She begins to laugh wholeheartedly and holds up a hand to him. "Dean Winchester, I may be crazy but I do believe that is the first time that anyone has done a possession check on me," she tells him like it's the funniest thing that's happening here, and Dean instantly relaxes, grateful; still unable to wrap his head around the fact that Layla's alive, and apparently well, and here.

"I had no way of contacting you," she says, "and really, this is crazy to ask, seeing as how I don't want to embarrass you, but Dean, you said something to me the last time I ever saw you. Do you remember what that was?"

Not possible, Dean thinks, before wincing, then blinking, fluttering his eyelashes and rubbing his smooth-shaven face. Absentmindedly he begins loosening his tie and pacing around a little himself.

Layla watches Dean's behavior and her excited expression falls into an overcast one. "He doesn't remember," she thinks.

Dean stops, leans back onto her desk, and she smirks a little thinking that this must be an older version of no doubt what used to be the bad seed in school. She'd know. She has a ton of younger versions of Deans walk into her classroom everyday. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but smiles anyway.

"I said a lot of things that day, Layla. But umm," he clears his throat, "so what exactly happened with the whole tumor thing?" he asks and inwardly kicks his self for being so forward. "Sorry, I- what I mea-"

"It's okay, Dean," she says, and there goes that authoritative hand up in the air again. Contrary to popular beliefs, Dean is kind of grateful when someone knows when to silence him to save him from making a complete idiot out of himself.

"Dean, it was- it was a miracle. Nothing short of one actually. A month and a half after you left I went to a check up and they took some cat-scans, and they didn't know what to make of it. The tumor had disappeared."

Dean's breath hitches and his eyes that weren't looking anywhere near hers but were instead looking at her chins, are now staring unblinkingly into her eyes, as he shakes his head in utter disbelief. "Layla," he breathes out gently, "I know what you're thinkin'... but I had nothing to do with it."

She steps up to him, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Are you telling me you didn't pray for me?" she asks in an accusing tone, no doubt using her teacher-voice.

Dean clamps his eyes shut for a moment, not saying anything, and that's all the answer she needs. She steps up a little closer to him and he goes rigid as he feels her barricade his personal space, smelling of flowers and homework. She places her hands on his shoulders and whispers, "Didn't you pray for me, Dean?"

Without opening his eyes, he nods his head yes as if admitting to something horrid, and she smiles. But the tender moment doesn't last. He snaps his eyes open and says, "I didn't expect it to work though."

Layla laughs. "Well I appreciated the thought of you praying, but I didn't actually expect you to do it," she admits in good humor.

He gives a petulant sneer. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he says without any steam behind it, she'd be right not to expect for him to actually follow through with such a promise. He allows the humor in her honesty to finally let some of the tension ease from his shoulders and he lets out a low grumble of a laugh. "So you're a hot teacher now?"

"I don't know about hot, but teacher, yes," she replies, not meeting his appreciative gaze.

Dean smiles at that. Really smiles. He accepts what she said, but doesn't buy it. Not too many teachers out there that can pull off a pencil skirt and a cardigan, with her hair modestly fixed in a simple brushed down and tucked behind the ears fashion. Or maybe he's just biased. Their history sucks, but it's still history. He's seen a glimpse of her strength. Freakin' beautiful.

She looks up shyly at the look she's receiving from him as he silently takes her in, and it just makes it worse for him. Layla deserves to date someone with more... he's not sure what; he just knows she deserves more. So he diverts his attention to the stack of papers on her desk and picks them up, sifting through them, catching their grades; all passing he sees. He crinkles his forehead.

"I know, it's weird, huh? I mean, it's what every teacher hopes for; for each of his or her students to pass. But, as nice as it seems to be, it's..."

"Unbelievable?" he asks and she hums in agreement.

Dean spaces out a little as he thoughtfully digests. He's seen the movie The Faculty with Sammy years ago. But that was aliens that took over the school, and...

"How are the teachers acting?" he asks.

"So this is what you do, Dean Winchester? You investigate things that are out of the norm," she concludes and he jerks his head back. "That's how you and your brother figured out how Reverend Roy's wife was using black magic to kill people?"

Dean considers quietly and finally nods at her conclusion, accepts it. Doesn't like that he has no choice but to be so open with her about what he and his brother do now, but that's life, and the truth. If the truth was safe with anyone, he'd like to think that person would be Layla.

"The teachers are fine," she answers, "but there is this one coach..." she trails off and he hops off of her desk with stealth. His feet barely make a sound when they hit the floor, she notices. He's pulling out his phone, dialing before she has a chance to finish.

"Yeah, Bobby, it's me. I need everything you have on..."

…

Third time's a charm, so must the third day be, because that's when Dean and Sam find the actual host and exorcize what would look like a very clever disguise as an alien overtake of the school. The spirit that so cleverly possessed the coach was a real piece of work and spread its perfect filth to seventy-five percent of the school, but seeing as how they knew who the host was, it was nothing the two Winchesters couldn't handle.

Sam bends over draping himself over Layla, hugging her hard enough to make her lungs stop short of a much needed breath. "It's good to see you again, Layla. What are the odds of us showing up at the same place, huh?"

And it's that very moment that Dean realizes that this trip hadn't been a coincidence at all. That sneaking little...

Sam received a call a week prior. He didn't recognize the voice at first. Although, he knew it sounded extremely similar to a Layla that he had met long ago, but that Layla would already be dead and gone from the tumor that would take her life. She said that she was given his number, but wasn't given his name. Her pastor Jim Murphy referred them to her, when she came in to speak with him one evening, asking him for spiritual advice on whether she should be shaken by the turn of events at her school that she taught at or not. He listened attentively and wrote down a number.

Sam was beside himself with awe, not at all able to be quietly excited when he realized that the Layla with the brain tumor was indeed the same Layla he was speaking to. He had to finish the call outside so that Dean wouldn't bust out of the shower demanding to know what was going on. Whereas, Sam thought it would be a real kick to surprise Dean, by making him show up to grill her for questions at her school. He all but bounced all the way to Minnesota and Dean kept giving him looks.

Layla was beside herself with nervousness from the moment she got off of the phone with Sam to the very moment that Dean knocked on her classroom door. Knowing that Dean would be showing up to speak with her after her last class let out for the day gave her teaching skills a real embarrassing setback. A couple of her students even asked if she was okay. She was terrified of coming face to face, with Dean, the Dean. The man who she thanks God for, because she just knew in her heart that God answered his prayers that were prayed for her.

"You two think you are so smart don't you?" Dean asks, perturbed, yet grinning unsurprised at his brother, but a little shocked at Layla, and a little turned on by the fact that she had it in her to pretend that she didn't know he was coming.

Sam bows his head, giving his most innocent look underneath fallen bangs toward Dean. "I just wanted for you to see for yourself."

Dean slowly frowns. He doesn't want to have this conversation. Not again. So there's a God, and he answers prayer, and sometimes he shows some compassion and heals the likes of people like Layla, but...

"Stop over-thinking it, Dean. So you prayed. It doesn't make you any less... you," Layla says sternly. All teacher sometimes, this woman. Dean is taken aback by her observance and how it hit right on the freakin' mark. He grits his teeth and looks away. They are making a big deal out of nothing.

When it's Layla's turn to say goodbye, she takes Dean's hand in hers and wraps his fingers around a piece of paper, then stands on her tip toes. Dean meets her halfway and pretends his brother isn't watching with nine year old glee as he kisses the sexy teacher openly, leaving a little bit of himself for her, and taking a little of her just for the road.

…

It isn't until that night that Dean takes the little post it note that Layla scribbled her number on and unfolds it, and he's not really surprised to see that it isn't just her number, but she of course added a little something, and it went like this...

As far as tests go, I'd say this is one you've passed. I know it's not much of a repayment, but you and your brother are in my prayers every night.

Dean shivers and he almost crumbles the yellow piece of paper, and throws it across the room, unable to accept it still, that he had any part of saving Layla. But he sticks the piece of paper in his wallet, just as a reminder that he and his brother have a little more than just guns and knives for protection. If God saw fit to save Layla, then she's obviously in his good graces. And knowing that, she's exactly the kind of person that he and his little brother need praying for them.

That night, Dean sleeps a little better. The next day he steps a little lighter, and smiles a little brighter. When he's asked by Sam what has gotten into him, he denies having any idea what his brother is talking about. Sam wouldn't ever let him hear the end of it if he did.

However, Dean does do something, something that no one can hear, and that Sam will never know about. He continues to pray for that hot teacher from Minnesota.

End