"So – um – hey. I – uh – well, you know I don't believe in You, but I told Layla that I'd – uh – pray for her, and – uh – so, I guess that means talking to You."
Dean whispered his words under the protection of music pounding out of the car's cassette player. Sam was asleep in the passenger seat, actually managing to look sprawled in the usually cramped space, with his head on his arm against the window, and his jacket pulled over him like a blanket. Sound asleep. He'd been getting no sleep at all lately, with Dean's accident and damaged heart and finding Roy and stopping Sue Ann. Sam would run until he let himself crash, and when he crashed, it was absolute.
Still, Dean whispered to keep Sam from hearing anything.
"So – um – like I was saying – I don't believe in You. I never have. I believe in family, my family. I believe in me taking care of things." Dean had to smile at that. "So if I'm in charge then I say Layla is healed. So there."
The jacket slipped off of Sam a little and Dean reached over to tuck it back where it belonged.
"Even if I did believe in You – I don't believe You'd actually care about me. I mean, what – you must get up every morning and have twenty-seven billion voice messages waiting for You. What's one from me in all of that? I just – prefer to take care of things myself. That way I know the job is gonna get done, and get done right. I mean – no offense – but the good guys could sure use some help down here and I just don't ever see You jumping into the fight."
He took another look at Sam just to be sure, and for sure Sam was still out like a light, though it was only three o'clock in the afternoon.
"I know Roy said You chose me to be healed, because – what'd he say? Because I have a job to do that's not finished. Which is damn straight – I'm gonna kill the thing that hurt my family." He looked at Sam and tucked the jacket back up from where it had slid down again. "But Roy could've just seen that himself. Psychic or whatever. I don't know. I just – well, I told Layla I'd pray her for her and I am. Because she deserves it. To be healed. Way more than I do. More than I ever could deserve it. I'm just – me. And that's all. And maybe I'm not good enough for You to listen to, even if You do exist. But she's good enough for You to listen to me, so listen good. You take care of her, and heal her, and geesh give her mother something to calm her down, will You? That woman – well I bet I don't have to tell You what she's like. Just – take care of Layla." He took a deep breath and voiced the one word he saved for desperate moments. "Please."
"Dean?" The Sleepy Sammy voice reached him over the music. "You talking to yourself?"
Dean tucked the jacket up for Sam again and sighed.
"I hope not."
The End