[ He doesn't respond, not to Crowley, not to Chuck. He's not really sure what to with himself. Everything--every bad thing that's ever happened to him, to the people he loves, flashes through his mind, and Sam? All he can think about are the prayers, the words he put out without knowing if anyone was ever there to hear them. And, all this time, He was alive? He was Chuck?
"Maybe I can be saved," he'd said, once. He didn't believe that anymore. That God was with them all along and couldn't save the people who deserved it most (not Sam, you understand-- he'd long since stopped believing that he deserved saving)... it brought him to the corner of his bed, where he's sitting now, his face in his hands.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. So much for anyone's salvation. ]
not here
"Maybe I can be saved," he'd said, once. He didn't believe that anymore. That God was with them all along and couldn't save the people who deserved it most (not Sam, you understand-- he'd long since stopped believing that he deserved saving)... it brought him to the corner of his bed, where he's sitting now, his face in his hands.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. So much for anyone's salvation. ]