Paint Me Perfect

One

Two brothers stood in a field. Physically, they were Adam Milligan and Samuel Winchester. I knew, from my previous dreams, they were really the archangels Michael and Lucifer.

Their conversation was interrupted by a 1967 model of a Chevrolet Impala stopping beside them. "Hey we need to talk." Dean Winchester spoke, walking towards the two. The archangels shared a look before turning back to the hunter.
"Dean, even for you this is a whole new mountain of stupid." Lucifer responded through his vessel.
"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to Sam." Dean retaliated quickly.

"You're no longer the vessel Dean." Michael butted in through Adam, "You've got no right to be here."
"Adam if you're in there somewhere, I'm sorry." Dean apologised, ignoring Michael's comment.
"Adam isn't home right now." Michael answered.
"Yeah well you're next on my list buttercup but right now I need five minutes with him." Dean nodded
toward Lucifer's direction.
"You little maggot, you are no longer a part of this story!" Michael raised his voice slightly, stepping closer to Dean.

"Hey assbutt!" The angel Castiel yelled, earning Michael's attention before throwing a Molotov cocktail and setting fire to his vessel. I couldn't help but physically laugh so hard, I woke up from the dream.

"Ow!" I yelled, rolling of the couch and hitting my elbow on the cluttered coffee table. I yawned and stood up from the wooden floor, trudging to the kitchen and making a coffee.

I walked up the stairs with my coffee and sat beside my art room window, smiling as the warm sunlight spread along the skin of my face. I closed my eyes and let the warm rays dance on the outer side of my eyelids. Rather than taking slow sips, I guzzled down the the whole cup of coffee and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

After I had enjoyed the warmth for a few more minutes, I moved to sit in front of my easel. I recalled my dream for a moment then lifted a paintbrush from the desk behind me and began painting a scene from the dream.