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Summary
There was no one left to pray to. No angels he cared about since Cas had been taken by the Empty. No God. There was Jack, whatever kind of God he was, but Dean didn’t pray to him either. He prayed to a thing inside himself. A creature who cowered and whined and hid its face under the blanket of a Hunter’s disguise, telling itself over and over that it was good. It was good and righteous and it had saved more than it had killed.
