CATEGORY: Angst, General, Missing Scene, POV
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 1, Tag for “Faith”
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is my very first “Supernatural” story. It’s me playing around trying to find the “true” voice of Dean Winchester. I hope you enjoy it, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thank you! : )
It’s not enough…to say those words: I’m sorry.
It’s just not enough. They won’t give Layla back her life. They won’t cure her brain tumor. They won’t do anything. They’re just words, words that hover in the air with no sustenance, no purpose other than to make me feel more at ease, more comfortable with the choice I made, with the events that played out.
She would be cured had Sam and I just allowed it to happen. She would have been cured. Had she been chosen that day instead of me she would now be cured. Instead she has six months, six more months of life. She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve to die so young, so full of life, so, so…
Why do I deserve to live and not her? Why me?
I asked Le Grange that same question why, why did he choose me out of all those other sick people? Why? His answer…because I stood out from the rest, he looked into my heart and saw a young man with an important purpose. But what purpose? What purpose could I possibly serve that would make me so much more important than all the others? I’m not important. I’m just a person. I’m just an average person, one who doesn’t believe in God or miracles. I’ve seen too much evil in my life to accept that there could be a God. If there is then why do so many people suffer? Why do bad things happen to good people?
Sam believes. He’s always believed. He has to, it drives him. He has to carry enough faith for both of us because no matter how many miracles I see I still can’t accept that there is someone up above who would allow all the bad to happen. Why doesn’t He stop it if He can? Why does He let people suffer? If He can stop it all then why doesn’t He?
“I’m sorry.” Such foolish words, such a trivial thing, an easy way out for one who deserves none, for one who stole something precious from another, something that she’ll never get back. I stole her chance, took her chance at life away and all I can do is say I’m sorry?
Shaking my head I begin to wonder, to ponder that simple question again: why? Why me? Why do I deserve to live and she to die? Why?
I find that same question playing over and over in my mind like a broken record. I look around me, stare at the ceiling, lower my gaze to the floor and shake my head again. The silence lingers. I ask the question again yet receive no answer in return. I don’t understand, so I glance around me. I see the grisly walls of another cheap hotel, one of hundreds, hell, probably thousands, that Sam and I have ventured into on our search for dad. I stare for endless hours at the same four walls, cursing, condemning myself, condemning God, condemning demons all in the vain hope, the vain attempt to ease my discomfort, to ease my guilt for what I’ve done, what I had to do to stop something that was so very wrong.
She’ll die now because of me. She’ll die, and I had the chance to save her. I had the chance. I was prepared to save her. I was prepared to exchange my life for hers but then something happened and fate dealt a different hand than the one I had expected. I was prepared. I was scared but I stood my ground allowing the reaper to place his hand against my head. I was ready to save her and then he vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
So here I sit in an empty hotel room. I can hear footsteps outside the door. Sam’s returning. He knew that I would need time, and he gave it to me. He also gave me the chance to say goodbye and I thank him for that, though I’ll never say those words to him. Words for me are difficult, especially when it comes to being truthful, to revealing what I really feel inside. Sam understands that about me. He understands it and accepts it. As he opens the door I look up and he approaches. He gently tells me it’s time to go. I nod before rising. I want to say something to him but find that I can’t so I settle for simply clearing my throat and casting one last look around the empty hotel room. Sam will drive tonight because he knows that I still need time and as I turn to look at him I see his soft smile and I make a vain attempt to return it. It’s not much but it’s something. As he softly urges, “Come on, Dean,” I nod again and head out the door. As it closes behind me I think again of Layla and the chance she has lost. As a final farewell I cast my eyes heavenward and offer a simple prayer for her though I expect it never to be heard. She had her chance to live and I took it away. I stole it away, and I’ll have to spend the rest of my life dealing with that one harsh fact. She had a chance and now it’s gone…
** The End **
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