Title: Stolen
Rating: PG
Summary: Was the light that lingered in the back of her eyes, obscured at times by clouds of sadness and the weariness of continually extinguished hope, brighter, more vibrant once?
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. A girl can dream, but, alas, that's all it is.
Author's Note: For
amelielinus. Used for
philosophy_20, prompt #17: lack of god.
There is so much that Layla should have had, so much that she deserved. All that he can think about when he looks at her is how she’s been robbed of a life – once by God, twice by him. He wonders what she was like as a kid, before the heavy weight of death began to press down on her shoulders.
Was she happy? Was the light that lingered in the back of her eyes, obscured at times by clouds of sadness and the weariness of continually extinguished hope, brighter, more vibrant once?
But more than that he wonders, marvels, really, at the fact that the first time he saw her, she was smiling, bright as the sun, despite being robbed of nearly everything important in life, forced to seek salvation in a tent, from a faith healer.
And even more than that, the moment before she walks out the door, she tells him that she’s fine, that her faith in a higher power remains strong, and that she doesn’t feel cheated by God or by fate or by life.
He feels cheated for her. She deserves so much more. She deserves peace and happiness and life. She deserves to know that her faith means something. She deserves her miracle.
“I guess if you’re gonna have faith, you can’t just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don’t.”
He wishes he was half as strong as she was. Strong enough to believe in that. Strong enough to believe in much of anything.
Rating: PG
Summary: Was the light that lingered in the back of her eyes, obscured at times by clouds of sadness and the weariness of continually extinguished hope, brighter, more vibrant once?
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. A girl can dream, but, alas, that's all it is.
Author's Note: For
There is so much that Layla should have had, so much that she deserved. All that he can think about when he looks at her is how she’s been robbed of a life – once by God, twice by him. He wonders what she was like as a kid, before the heavy weight of death began to press down on her shoulders.
Was she happy? Was the light that lingered in the back of her eyes, obscured at times by clouds of sadness and the weariness of continually extinguished hope, brighter, more vibrant once?
But more than that he wonders, marvels, really, at the fact that the first time he saw her, she was smiling, bright as the sun, despite being robbed of nearly everything important in life, forced to seek salvation in a tent, from a faith healer.
And even more than that, the moment before she walks out the door, she tells him that she’s fine, that her faith in a higher power remains strong, and that she doesn’t feel cheated by God or by fate or by life.
He feels cheated for her. She deserves so much more. She deserves peace and happiness and life. She deserves to know that her faith means something. She deserves her miracle.
“I guess if you’re gonna have faith, you can’t just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don’t.”
He wishes he was half as strong as she was. Strong enough to believe in that. Strong enough to believe in much of anything.
Current Mood:
sleepy
Current Music: Mary Can You Come Outside - Kane
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