Dean was in the middle of a nightmare, surrounded by a burning forest. Around him, familiar faces appeared and disappeared like ghosts, people he felt like he’d failed.

“You let us die, Dean.”

“No—” he choked, backing away.

“We’d still be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“No! I tried- I tried to save you!” Dean shouted, his voice breaking. He fell to his knees, the heaviness of the guilt pulling him down. Suddenly you appeared in the middle of it all, the other faces becoming blurry as you were the only thing in focus.

“Dean,” you said gently, your voice steady and soothing.

His head shot up, his eyes wide and full of pain. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice trembling.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” you replied, stepping closer.

“This place...” Dean shook his head. “You don’t belong in it. You shouldn’t have to see-”

“I see you,” you interrupted, your voice soft but firm. “Not your mistakes. Not your guilt. You.” You knelt in front of him. “Just let me in, Dean. Let me help you. You don’t have to face this alone anymore.”

Everything suddenly faded as Dean jolted awake. His bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and there you were, standing over him.

“Dean…”

“Don’t,” he snapped, the harshness in his tone unintentional. “I’m fine.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand over his face. You didn’t say anything, didn’t push him, but instead sat on the edge of the bed beside him. The silence hung heavy between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was understanding.

After a moment, he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.