Against what you've learned
You can trust what you read
And believe every word
From a language we no longer speak
Life is a gift
Your only concern: "is there life after this"
Am I worthy of earning my wings
Is there room on the list for someone who needs to see proof you exist
It's just not that easy for me
It's just not that easy
What stood before him was his friend, his angel, and someone who'd betrayed him. He didn't know what to think anymore, didn't know what to do when his world was crumbling and everything was burning around him. He held his head in his hands and simply sat there, on his bed, numb.
His words were calling for someone he wasn't sure existed, someone he'd never really believed in, an idea, really. Something intangible and unreachable, forever beyond him. As he woke from the nightmare, his eyes still burning from sun that wasn't there, he felt a tear burn its way down his cheek. The dreams had been coming, for weeks, months, maybe years. They never stopped no matter how much he begged and now, after such a long time, the act of begging had become more of an action, a movement that held nothing to him.
Something's still missing
You promised that it would materialize
It's there if you listen
I swear that I must not be hearing you right
With God as my witness, I've made it my business to be on his side
and somehow I'll never be sure
But I'll keep asking why
Because you can't hide from the world by covering your eyes
How many times had he tried to call for something, anything, and received nothing? How many times had his words polluted the air like the pitiful begging of a wretch? He never gained anything, never eased any hurt, never even saw a small sign. Nothing. He was standing for something, someone, he didn't know existed, didn't know if they even cared or answered. They never answered him.
All the promises, all the 'say your prayers', all of his hurried words before he did something dangerous. All of his prayers for his brother, his little brother who was now so broken he couldn't stand to think about it. He thought maybe he just wasn't saying them loud enough or enough at all; maybe he wasn't doing it right, maybe, maybe. All of the excuses to himself, to the world, to a God he didn't know or love or even believe in.
What had he received? For all he'd given, what had been given to him? He had no reason to continue this, absolutely no reason at all- in fact, he had all the right in the world to just say 'no' now and leave. He had all the right in the world.
But he didn't.
Because somewhere, somehow, some part of his heart had decided to hold on to hope. Some small part that, no matter how things went to hell, kept shining its light in a corner of his soul. A little light that sent its message to the world, let everyone know that he wasn't going to stop no matter how much he was stomped on, no matter if his prayers were heard or not. Some part of him would not stop because giving up on help would be giving up on his angel, giving up on the one person in his life who had loved him unconditionally, the one person who had seen nothing but good and something worth saving.
So he would keep praying, keep questioning why, keep fighting until the end. He would keep doing this, even if it killed him, because the answer was out there somewhere- and he would find it. Be it in his long and weary life or in bitter death, the answer would come to him.
All he had to do was listen. And maybe, just maybe, someone would listen back.
A/N: I'm sorry. I just. Everything is depressing! All I write comes out making me cry! ;_; So here we have Dean, praying for Cas to be saved. I guess this is between seasons 6 and 7 kind of, or somewhere stuck in there. I didn't think about it when I wrote.
So, please read and review!
