Tough Love ✔️

Constant Figure

"I'm crazy," you whisper. "Dreaming up these things."

But he was right in front of you. Breathing. Speaking. Questioning his own sanity, let alone yours; and he was the one to have managed to have gotten out of hell.

"I'm real," he whispered. "I'm so glad you're not dead," he continued, and saw the ring on your finger. "You managed to settle down, then?"

You woke out of the small daydream and shook your head. "No, I never got over you, how can you? You just died in front of me." You gave a sort of snort, and snatching the ring from your left hand, you pitched the thin under-decorated golden band across the room. "No. That was for creeps. I forgot how many of them are out there."

Dean nodded slowly, swallowing. You could see he was sorry for being dragged into hell. It wasn't his fault. You didn't blame him. You didn't blame anyone but the dream that had made you leave him in the first place.

From the corner of your eye you saw Sam made a just kiss already face, and add, "we need to go to Bobby. He'd know a bit on ... whatever is happening."

Dean nodded. "I agree, Sammy."

You nodded too. "I can't agree any more."

Only a few hours after getting to Bobby's, you felt a horrible headache echo through your skull, leaving you breathless and dizzied. The boys were still doing their research, and you quietly excused yourself to go and down the standard dosage of headache medicine and crash on the sofa to try to relieve your head.

But if anything, all it did was hurt more. You clutched your head in your hands and moaned over and over again with the pain, and suddenly it became just downright hellish.

You have a scream, but when you opened your eyes - you weren't looking at the living room of Bobby Singer's house. No.

Your eyes saw an industrial sized shed. And a scene inside.

There was Bobby and Dean and yourself handing in the shed, all armed with the guns, Ruby's knife, waiting for an answer, for someone to turn up. Time passed, and suddenly the lights started shaking and the shutters trembling. You turned to the doors to see a man wearing a trench coat open them with his bare hands and with the lights breaking above him, you watched as the man came to where you, Bobby and Dean stood.

You looked to the man, with the tan trench coat and the backwards blue tie and observed that with a touch he reduced Bobby to a sleep on the floor. You bent to see if Bobby was alright, missing most of the interchange between Dean and the man, "My name is Castiel," the guy introduced, his voice was almost unnaturally deep. "I am an angel of The Lord."

You kept your eyes on Castiel, trying to figure out something that didn't compute.

"I am the one who raised you up and saved from perdition."

"_______! Wake up! Come on, wake up!" you heard someone whispering forcefully in your ear. You cringed, and writhed away from the voice. "Son of a bitch, you scared me, ______, you were screaming and twitching -,"

You frowned. "Angels, Dean," you whispered. "Angels. I just saw them, in another dream ... this one angel, he -," you paused, realising what you were saying. "I'm crazy. Nobody should be able to see what's going to happen in the future."

You had squeezed your eyes shut in the middle if your speech to hear a soft laugh. It frightened you more than anything - who laughed anymore these days - and you looked to see Dean smiling. In amongst everything that was going on, he was a constant figure. Unmoving. Easy to understand. Always there.

"We'll figure you out," he promised. "I just hope you don't have any more of those headaches."