How could this be real?

I mean, I have to be hallucinating again, haven't I? Yeah, this is exactly the same thing that happened with Mom. I imagined her, saying what I wanted to hear, and then she was gone. Disappeared into thin air. It can't be anything else, can it?

But this feels different. This doesn't feel the same way it did with Mom. This feels...real. Like it's actually happening. The voice, the touch, the smell, the face. They seem real. But, I can't see how they could be, not after everything I've done, not after I've changed this much.

This has to be impossible.

This has to stop. I have to snap out of this one. I would rather be imaginary tortured by Alistair again. Because this one hurts a hundred times more than the others. It makes me feel weaker than I already am, useless, pathetic, like a baby. A sick, twisted, evil baby. But at the same time, it's what I need, what I crave. More than the urge to kill Lillith. More than the urge to do what put me in this position in the first place. I. Need. This. I certainly don't deserve it, but I have to have this

The arms wrap tighter around me. I see the face, dimly lit by the feint light available in the room. I hear the soft humming, as out of tune as it is it comforts me.

This is real. Now, I'm absolutely sure. Okay, sixty five per cent. But that's sure enough. Do I dare say something?

It's worth a shot.


"Shh... or Bobby will wake up and shoot me. Old age has worsened that temper of his, you know."

That statement almost gave me the urge to laugh. Almost.

"How you feeling?"

Three words. One question. And it breaks me. I fight to hold back my sobs but my lower lip trembles and long tears make their way down my cheek. His hand finds its way to my cheek and he gently strokes away all the offending tears, making the same hushing noises he used to make when we were younger.

"Don't cry Sammy, don't cry."

It's very hypocritical of him, considering half the tears on my cheeks happen to have come from his eyes. Which of course makes me want to cry even more. How could I possibly do this to him? After all he's done for me.


He presses a light kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering, still trying to stop my crying.

"It's okay Sammy. It's not your fault. I love you. Don't worry, I'll make it all better, you know I will."

"Love you t-too"

He's stopped crying now, but the tear tracks were still drying on his cheeks. I reach up to wipe them away. My big brother couldn't have tears on his face. It's just not right. He laughs shakily as I wipe his face, before holding my hand in place and leaning into my palm.

"Dean, where are ya, ya idjit?"

"Coming Bobby!"

He takes my hand off his face, rubbing small circles on the back of it, before letting go and walking out of the room, leaving me alone again.

But this time, I know I'm not really alone. My big brother is still going to save me, like he always does.