Tough Love ✔️

Dreams of Dean

You didn't know what to do so you went straight to Sam Winchester. Driving through the night you made it to a little motel he had gotten into, and looking like literal hell personified you found yourself standing outside the door to his room like a stupid person.

"______?" you heard the younger Winchester say as the creaky door in dire need of a paint job was opened to reveal him. "What brings you here?"

You felt dizzy, almost, and swaying, you said to Sam, "you know weird, don't you?" As he nodded, you remembered the catastrophes with Yellow Eyes that Sam had been through, you continued, "Well ... I had a dream. A horrible dream; a nightmare, where it was really hot and midday and where we buried Dean and Dean rose out of the ground, from the grave, and he wasn't dead, Sam, and -," you paused, sighing because you had heard how strange you sounded. "I needed to talk to someone who wouldn't diagnose me as crazy and shut me into a metal institution."

You heard a laugh, and realised it was Sam. "All this time, and you have a little dream that makes you sad? And you come to me?"

"Be mad all you like," you replied. "You have all the reason to be." You shrugged, and added "And Sam, Bobby'd strike me down like Zeus if I went to him. And all the other hunters don't really do 'feelings'."

Sam smiled. "Come in anyway, you look like you need a place to stay. For old times sake."

Grateful, you took the couch and not even after any more than two minutes, you were out of it. A perfect sleep.

The first in many, many months.

You woke to hear cuss words and stern voices, all in a masculine undertone. Slowly, you almost peeled your eyelids open to see the scene Sam had gotten himself into.

But you froze in some emotion you didn't recognise. It was a mix of fear and trepidation in your stomach, gluing your body to the couch.

It wasn't that much of a sight, despite him supposed to be dead; Dean Winchester was arguing with his little brother.

"You're not a ghoul, or a demon, or a shapeshifter ..." Sam thought aloud. "How are you here?"

You listened intently. "... I just came out of the earth. Middle of day, and I heard this goddamned loud noise, like a scream, but it shattered everything ..."

You whimpered. What you had dreamed was correct. And, like what Sam Winchester had discovered from experience, being different in the hunting business wasn't an option.

"You - look what you've done, you woke _____!" Sam griped.

"______? She's -?"

"On the couch. Nice going, Jerk."

"Bitch." You almost heard the smile on his face. "______," you heard him call out to you, and you rolled over slowly as of to face him, with your face lowered. "_______, it's Dean."

You raised your face and found you were almost touching, with the proximity he had between you. Your eyes widened slowly and you moved away.

No. He couldn't be alive. But that dream is what he just described. Dreams don't come true. But he's right in front of you.

"The dream was right," you whispered, still dumbfounded. "You're - out."