Author's note

Hello everybody!

This is my second multi chapter fanfiction in the Supernatural universe. Before you read this story there are some things that should be said.

First, this fiction is based on a very real and extremely painful memory. Some of the things you will read in that fiction, especially about my OC's background, are true events that happened in my life. I am telling my story through a fanfiction because I need to get some things off my chest. Please give it a chance.

Second, this fiction contain a lot of sensitive subjects and possible triggers. For those of you who've read God's most cruel joke (no they are not related), Prayers actually is darker in some ways.

The characters and story line will be as canon as possible. Please remember that English isn't my first language. (I do apologize in advance for any mistakes.)

And I am saying it here once and for all I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, I only have this fiction and my OC.

This story is already finished, you don't have to worry about it not being complete.

Bold: Prayers

Italic: Thoughts

If you have any comments or suggestions, you can always review or pm me.

Enjoy your reading,

Pavs.

Chapter one : Pain

It was cold, so cold. My whole body was shaking and I'd been screaming for so long that I started to not recognize my own voice. His hand was in mine and I could see it in his eyes, I wouldn't make it. I didn't even know if I wanted to anyway. There was pain, excruciating, never ending pain. My vision started to fade and things became a blur until another wave of pain hit and I was screaming for the life I was losing.

I heard the sirens and his hand left mine. He told me he loved me but couldn't come with me in the ambulance. And really, he couldn't, not at the moment. I looked at him one last time before the paramedics took off with me. There was so much blood.

Before I knew it, I was in intensive care with an IV and told I might need a transfusion. I called my mom, crying so much she barely understood the name of the hospital. The meds worked against the pain but there was always more blood. I was cold and tired. Tired of living but still hugging myself in the hopes that it could somehow save him. But it couldn't, my baby was dead before he was even born, before I even knew he was there. I knew it was a son, I could feel it.

My arms shouldn't have been covered in blood, they should have been holding my sleeping son in a couple of months. But they were as empty as I felt and I cried even more.

My mother arrived and held me against her, not caring about the blood and not knowing what to say. She tried to find the right words, but there really was nothing to say. She was told by the security she had to go and I was alone again.

I was going mad with pain and the scream of agony that rang into my head. I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe and I wanted to ask for help not knowing what I needed beside having my living son into my arms. I never prayed and wasn't sure I believed, but I needed to talk without making a sound. I pictured in my head the heaven I'd seen with all the doors. I imagined what would be behind my door. I asked myself if I would just let myself die would I end up there.

Then my phone rang and the very man that loved me told me he couldn't do it. That he wasn't ready. That he was glad the baby was dead. The baby he very much told me he would have been happy about when I would get pregnant.

The sound I made was not human and no pain meds could have stopped that suffering. The doctors came running. I couldn't explain, I was sobbing too hard. I wanted to die, I wanted to die so much. And it appeared that I would do so very soon if they didn't stop the bleeding.

They brought me into a room with an exam bed and told me they'd have to extract the baby without anesthesia. He couldn't get out and it was the reason I was losing so much blood. It took forty-five minutes and two doctors to see my dead baby five seconds before he was being thrown in the garbage. They closed the door to let me change and I fell on the floor. I didn't even change, I just managed to get back to my hospital bed. He was gone and the blood was all I had left of him.

No one dared to say a thing about my state either. I closed my eyes and went back to the heaven I had thought about before. I wondered if my baby was there now. I wished I could have done something to save him. I wished for a late miracle to bring him back. I wished Castiel was there to heal me and my unborn son when I started losing blood. I wished he could just make me sleep so I couldn't feel a thing. And I cried to him even when I knew he couldn't hear me because he wasn't real. I had never prayed before but I did to him because there was no one I could talk to.

And somehow, I heard his voice telling me that I could go to sleep and he would be there watching over me. I didn't care if I was hallucinating from the loss of blood or the amount of pain I was in, his voice was comforting and I fell asleep hearing him sing words that I couldn't understand.