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Tweak says, "Good deal. Take it."

Dean Winchester hugs baby trees (withgunsdrawn) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2011-10-11 23:35:00

Entry tags:

anna milton, dean winchester

Who? Dean & Anna
What? Dreamstalker conversations.
Where? Dean's head/dream.
When? Tonight!
Rating? Vaguely high for helldreams, but otherwise probably not bad.

One arm draped over Juliet’s waist, the other tucked up under his pillow, fingers just touching the cool metal of the gun there (not a knife, not anymore; knives blended too seamlessly with his dreams, kept him in the dream too long and put risks in place he didn’t want to take - a gun was safer, clip beside it, safety on anyway, and the blunt edges couldn’t do much damage if he did keep dreaming too long), Dean was asleep faster than he usually was. This whole vacation thing, it made sleeping easier - pointedly not thinking about things like Lucifer, the end of the world, how close he kept coming to losing everyone that mattered... not thinking about any of those things, it helped. He knew it couldn’t last forever, but while it lasted, he was trying to enjoy it.

When he slept, his dreams were still what they always seemed to be, though. Hell. Today, apparently, he wasn’t the one with the knife in his hand - it was back on the rack with him, being carved and filleted and shredded, asked that one question over and over the whole time.

Do you want it to stop, Dean?

Part of him was distantly aware that this wasn’t real - that he was only dreaming, that in reality he was out of hell, he was safe and happy as he ever got, he had his family, he had Juliet beside him, and none of this was real, this wasn’t really happening now. That part of him was drowned out, though, smothered and buried under hell pain torture pleasemakeitstop please yes I'll do it whateveryouwantplease, so at first when everything went still and quiet, when the pain stopped, all he felt was relief, followed quickly by a sick sense that something worse was going to happen.

Sitting on the bloody floor where the rack used to be, he almost didn’t notice or recognize the red-headed angel standing there. When he did, it clarified that this was a dream (although if he was dreaming about being rescued from Hell by an angel, why wasn’t it Cas? Whatever, facts didn’t have to be exact, in dreams), not the real Hell - angels don’t just walk into hell, not like this. He couldn’t remember Castiel’s rescue, not exactly, but he knew there was a hell of a lot more light involved.

“...uh. Hi?” Dean picked at the hem of his blood-wet shirt and scowled, more than a little embarrassed to be caught dreaming this way, after all this time; he should be over Hell by now, shouldn’t he? A year (two, if you counted the year or so he'd forgotten) later, shouldn't he be dreaming about other things most nights, by now? “Am I just dreaming, or is this an angel-stalking?”

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withgunsdrawn
2011-11-03 02:12 am UTC (link)

[ooc: ooooo super delayed post is super delayed, but, uh... here you go? <3!]

He almost said yes.

Not because he wanted to remember - not for himself, at least, because he had finally gotten to the point where he genuinely didn’t care what had happened in the past, he was all right moving forward where he was, missing year or not. He was okay with the things he knew, and the gaps were starting not to be much of an issue anymore. But... she seemed to be distressed, seemed like she really wanted him to remember, and he almost agreed, for her sake. It would help her, wouldn’t it? Having someone remember her as she was, that would help...

But he didn’t want there to be any unpleasant surprises, anything someone hadn’t told him - irrelevant or not - that he would get upset about. Because he would - he knew himself well enough by now to know that sometimes, yeah, he got irrational about stupid shit that really didn’t matter, little secrets that don’t mean anything now, have no effect on him whatsoever, but if he found out he would be furious. He didn’t want there to be anything that would make things bad, for him or for Sam or Jules or Mom, or anyone else, either.

“I can’t,” he responded, head tipping to one side slightly, offering an apologetic, sympathetic frown, “I’m sorry, Anna, I am. For... all of this. You and Cas falling, that’s on me.” It was, too - if he had just... held on, not broken, none of this would have happened. If he had figured out how to stop Lucifer sooner, none of this would be happening now. He shifted - uncomfortable with sitting on the ground looking up at her, uncomfortable here in this conversation in his dream, uncomfortable with the blood all over and the way the red of her hair made him remember a blond woman he’d gotten on the rack, torn her to pieces until she was so drenched in her own blood her hair was that same shade.

“We are friends, though, I mean,” he added, after he pushed the memory away (pushed it down deep, so it wouldn’t pop back up strong enough to turn into a dream-fragment right here in front of the angel), “I don’t need a random year’s memories back to know that. You saved my life, and all that...” He tried not to remember that - the Killiks, the poison, how sure he was that dying would make everything okay for everyone else; it was hard not to remember, hard not to think about it.

“I mean, if there’s anything else I can do, I owe you, for that - just, it can’t be this.”

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cadoexvenia
2011-11-03 03:34 am UTC (link)

The sad fact was, it was, just this. She needed him to understand her, she needed to know from him, that once she'd been a shining beautiful thing, that once, she'd been there for him. That once he'd needed her. But he had no memory of that night, of their time together and he didn't want it back. He'd made it very clear. So there'd be no affirmation for the angel who was slowly losing herself in her own mistakes. She was falling, because of a demon, because of the King of the Crossroads of all things, and it was hard to fathom how it could ever get any worse than that.

But Anna knew it could.

"Its not because of you Dean. Not me anyway. There are reasons why I'm falling. Things I've done that maybe I could have told you if you'd taken the memories back, but I can't, not like this, you'd never understand it. And I'm sorry I did things this way. I'm sorry I came in here. I have no right. It's just what it is. It's just how I thought it had to be. You're with her out there. You're happy. And I'm not gonna do anything to disrupt that, you have a right to be happy. More than most of us do."

He was guilty, he felt so much guilt, over her, over Castiel. Over Sam, over every single person in his life. For breaking in the pit, but Anna couldn't blame him. She'd never blame him, and she could see how uncomfortable all this was making the Hunter.

"I wish you'd dream easier dreams, I wish this was a refuge for you. But those memories you're holding on to, I can't take those away without destroying another part of you. You've lost enough of your memory already. So all I can do is hope that one day the guilt won't drag you down so much. It shouldn't. No one blames you Dean. No one else could have lasted as long as you did down there and lived with any measure of focus or sanity. You're strong, you're the strong one." And she'd always believe that, even if she'd come here for an entirely different purpose maybe she could help Dean find his way back.

"I'll go if you want, you can try and get some proper sleep. But I want you to know, none of this is on you, nothing with me, or with Cas. You focus on you and yours and we'll...it'll be fine. Okay? I promise"

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