He didn't waste any time in making his trip over to see Heather. It seemed that everything was getting darker and darker around them. The images of the people that he felt guilty about were becoming more and more grotesque and now, no matter how hard he tried to block him out, Dean simply refused to leave his side. Spitting out words of hatred and disgust. It was more than unbearable and, for a while there, Sam actually found himself behaving a lot like Heather had during the previous night. Paranoid. Completely on edge. He could barely take control of himself this morning, when his own mother was howling at him. If I had known that you were going to become a monster, I would have drowned you like a little rat, she had hissed. The words were still fresh in his mind, but the tears that had fallen at the sight of her were good and gone. He wouldn't spill anymore, he had sworn that much. This was all a test, one that he fully intended on passing. Being weak? It was going to get him killed.
And suddenly, just like that, Castiel's words made sense to him. 'There are things coming and we don't need to be distracted by your insecurities.'
He kept that in mind as he pushed the door to Heather's apartment over and stepped inside. "Heather? You ready to go?" Dean followed him inside, snickering about something that Sam didn't quite understand.
"You're getting blood on the carpet," he muttered, looking at the gore ridden version of his brother. Dean snickered again, muttering something about how it was his fault. Sam forced his gaze away from his brother and moved into the living room, spotting Heather out of the corner of his eye.
"Hey," he started, moving around to the front of the couch so that he could see her, "are you --" And that was when he saw it. Her. This wasn't another nightmare, was it? He instantly rushed forward. "What the hell happened?!"