and so the Righteous Man knelt;

pairing: dean winchester/castiel tags: spn 15x18 kinda-coda, angst, major character death, flash fic, 700wc (read on ao3)

Our Father, who art fucking around Somewhere, You know ain’t the praying type, but I don’t know what to do without him.

and so the Righteous Man knelt;

Our Father, who art fucking around Somewhere, You know ain’t the praying type, but I don’t know what to do without him. It’s been an hour and a half and I don’t think I’m getting up off of this floor, ‘cause he loves me. I never even got to say it back. Did You write my heartbreak, too?

Hallowed be thy name when he calls for You, even when You didn’t think to answer back, and that’s years, man, I watched him. I saw the fall. I’d say sorry for planting the seeds of doubt in Your good soldier’s heart but that was Your work as much as it was mine. You never even picked up the phone.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Does that please You? Is that sufficient? That my mama died flaming on burning plaster over my dad, and You wrote the pages to that book, was it enough? My baby tells me he loves me and has to leave, did You need more, still? Why would Thy Will need all this bleeding? Why would Thy Will mean the first of the sins was love? That all we’d ever do was get it wrong? I’m no saint, I know my day will come, and You’ve no room for me upstairs, I won’t fight that, but I love him, and I haven’t let him know yet.

Would You give us this day, and the day after that? Just a fraction of a fraction of a moment of his time, I’ll make him sandcastles and breakfast, and apologise some more. I don’t beg, You know that, You wrote that into my wirings. You know I’m telling the truth, but just give him back to me, I’ll not bite the hand that I eat from. I don’t trust myself to be deserving but for him You know I’d try. Just a day. For a day with my baby I’d penance with my life. Pay another forty years in the pit You heated, for the forty years I did it all wrong. Your measure of a lifetime in sulfur and sores for the one I'm living now, I haven't got much left anyway. I’ll make churches with my bare hands, if You bring him back, I would swim the deep, dig the grave back open, fit back into the box. Say You are love. Say You loved the world so much You gave Your only son. Say I'm desperate. Say I love him so much I don't even have to be here for it if it meant he'd wake in his bed and hold his son, I’m praying, man, can You hear? Can't You give him the chance I'm not gettin'? I can’t be all grief and handprints and running.

Do You take deals, God? I’ll put the drink down, I’ll stop the lies, give back our daily bread, our tender meat, the next headless corpse or frightful spirit, another go at my soul. Bring my sweetheart back.

And forgive us our trespasses, I promise not to make any more, do You hear me? It means You’ve won, it means I’m Cain, means I’m crawling on the dirt, I’m the murder. Means I'm whatever you need me to be. Means I’m scared. Means I’m afraid that if I were to lift my stone-wielding hand and ask my little brother to close his eyes, he would understand and turn his back to me. He knows I'm asking for my love back. He’d forgive me for this, just as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,

or at least deliver him to me. Or me to him. Or someone good to somebody who don't deserve 'em but loves 'em like nothing You've ever written in Your good Book. If You opened the door I would ask to be folded into the Empty just as he. I don't suppose I'm asking for too much. Heaven is a peace I'm not getting but long already made. If You can't lead him back to the phonebooth, can You at least let me slip into the dark?

Amen.