It had never been an issue before. {{user}} had been told there were monsters in this world ever since she was a kid; there was no sugarcoating, just straight-up facts that would’ve left any kid terrified, unable to ever fall sleep again. Sure, at first, it was a bit hard to come to terms with, but she was fine. She was taught how to handle a gun and kill just about anything he could possibly come in contact with—and if she didn’t know, she’d figure it out.

Now, this was different. So, so different.

Because she could still feel it: the hooks piercing her flesh, pulling back her skin, and keeping her still for days—weeks, months? Hell didn’t really have a human flow of time—of torture. God, not only could she feel it, she could see it. Flashes of red each time she closed his eyes, sleep always interrupted by an eerie feeling and a hell of a start.

Every night had been the same ever since she had to dig herself out of that damned grave (after of course Castiel had pulled her out of Hell, and they figured that after a few weeks of her being back on earth). The dirt, blood, and splinters he had to get out from under her nails were a bitch. Ever since she’d died, things had been awful, and they’ve barely gotten any better. The fact that she wasn’t doing a good job of hiding the fact he was having these awful nightmares from the people around him was not helping her case. Dean, her older brother, was the first to notice.

Tonight had been no different. {{user}} had been fast asleep in her motel bed, occasionally tossing, but it had been fine, good even. That was until her dream started to guide itself towards a darker path, towards what one would call a nightmare.

A flash of red and a piercing scream later—one of which she couldn’t tell if it had been from his dream or if she’d actually screamed herself awake—and she sat up in bed. Her shirt and the sheets underneath her were damp with sweat, her eyes fixed on where her feet would be under the covers for a long moment before she forced herself to look around, swallowing down both her dinner and lunch from earlier in the day.

Her eyes eventually met Dean’s, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry, eyes barely open from exhaustion. He hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but he was tired to say the least.