A/N: I am not a Christian and believe the bible to be a work of fiction. -Half the readers leave-

If you hope that this is going to be a hate!fic I'm afraid you're also going to be very disappointed. -All the other readers leave-

Right... guess I'm talking to myself now. Ah well.

Summary: Helping a stranger is great, but what if someone who turned their back when you needed help needed yours? A Good Samaritan Parable fanfic. One-shot. Maybe.

I do not own the bible in copyright terms. But I believe my family has at least eight different copies of them around the house.

I have NO idea where this came from. I'm actually supposed to be editing my Monsters Inc fanfic right about now. Granted it was slightly inspired by a scene I want to write in that story in the future (is that bad?)

And yes, I AM aware this was a parable and even in the context of the bible they're not real characters. It's just fanfic! Don't think too much about that. It's just that I've kind of realised this fanfiction archive is pretty bizarre- it seems like so FEW are actually based on the bible at all.

oo00oo

It was him.

Or one of them at least.

He bit his lip as he struggled not to yell out in surprise at this sudden realisation. He was alone on this road, the sun setting on him. He would have to go soon. It had been many months since the attack on himself, since that kind stranger had took pity on him and took him to an inn from this very road, but he obviously did not wish for a repeat of the painful experience.

He remembered how long it had taken for him to recover. The pain, the aches, the vomiting, the sweat and haze.

His anger began to mound.

He wanted to leave this man. Leave him to die. He was one of them, one of the faces burned in his hazed memories, one of the three who had gazed at him, even gone right up to his face and then left him battered and half dead. Without mercy, without kindness- being purely and utterly selfish in their actions. Instead it had taken the fourth, a man he had never even gotten to thank to his face to carry him to safety and to care, and while he was grateful, a part of him had always been embittered by the other three men and their failure. Failure which had almost cost him his life. Unlike the bandits, desperate men driven to thievery, these men had been of different lives, of different standings and better positions to show mercy. They had failed to do so. FAILED.

The truth of this scorched his mind and he clenched his fists.

If it had been anyone else, he'd have already taken him away to safety, especially based on his own experiences with bandits. But he wasn't a stranger. Not exactly. He was someone who had walked on the other side when he'd needed their help himself. Now they had suffered the same fate- bandits and thieves had stripped him bare and beaten him and for a moment he felt a slight glow of elation at this. He was not by and large a cruel man, even before the good man of Samaria had helped him, but even so, it was hard for a twisted part of him not to almost see this whole situation as justice.

Blood was speckled on the dust surrounding the man in question. A moan and sob sounded out in the dry and rapidly cooling air. He was alive... the inn he himself had stayed at back then wasn't even that far...

He threw his head in anger and made his way back to his donkey, the gentle carrier of his belongings, standing and looking down at the scene he was witnessing, which involved his master.

'Leave him there,' the man though to himself. It was what he deserved. An eye for an eye. Abandonment for abandonment. Was that not what the teachers had always taught them?

Life is filled with strange moments however, and as he reached and then patted the animals neck, it tossed its own head and almost seemed to give him what could only be best described as a 'look'. Not one of judgement but merely of confusion, a look of almost childish curiosity clearly visible in the depths of its eyes. A question not spoken but one which all the same clearly said: why?

The man simply rolled his eyes at him and muttered quietly:

"He deserves it."

It continued to stare.

"He left ME to die. Why should I help him? No-one will ever know if I leave him here."

The beast snorted.

"Oh don't give me that- you're just an animal. It's not like you'll tell anyone. No-one would know I left him even if someone helps him- he didn't see me," He bit his lip again and then repeated it: "No-one will know..."

But that wasn't true, he realised. It wasn't true at all and he knew that more than anything.

The Lord would know of what he had not done, what he could have done and also...

'I would know.'

And that made all the difference in the world.

After binding some of the mans worst wounds he gently placed him on the donkey, though a part of him had sighed in annoyance. He'd had to leave behind some of his belongings to make it more comfortable and easier for the man to be arranged upon it, items he could not carry easily himself, and no doubt the bandits would get to them he thought, even as he tossed some of them in the ditch where he'd found the wounded man. They would probably be taken before he could ever go back to claim them.

Still he gently patted his donkey and he led them away from that place, to escape the increasing darkness and danger, to make it to the nearby inn of light and food and laughter.

"Don't worry, I've got you." he muttered, placing an almost comforting hand on the trembling man for a moment. And at that moment he felt his previously held intense anger and dismay begin to diffuse even more than before. If anything, he now felt genuine concern for him.

His heart began to race slightly as he realised this. He genuinely wanted this man to live.

The donkey snorted, in almost smug approval it seemed this time.

"Oh be quiet," he said, though he didn't sound annoyed. If anything he almost sounded amused.

oo00oo

A/N: Whether it was the Priest, Levite or ordinary Israelite he helped, well that's your own interpretation. Hope you enjoyed it no matter who you are.