Can you see it?

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

Dean smirks, his eyes still closed, while he's laying on the grass, the left arm under his head and the right one on his stomach. She's laying next to him, breathing slowly, an eye opened now.

<< You're cheating. >> Dean says.

<< Nope. >>

<< I bet you have your eyes opened. >>

<< Just one! >>

<< Unbelievable. >> Dean comments, opening his eyes, propping on his elbows, turning to look at her, raising his right eyebrow.

She looks at him, a lock of her hair that descends on her shoulder, a roguish smile just mentioned. Dean lives for moments like this, when they're playing like two teenagers. He feels younger (and a bit dumb) whenever he's with her, but maybe it's a good thing after all, since they had to grow up so much faster than the other kids. Since he has to play the parent all the time, with Sam (it's not as bad as it may seem, that's just his job, to look after his pain-in-the-ass little brother). Since he has to kill the monsters to clean up the whole world, a mess that he didn't start, but that he has got to finish. His heart feels heavy, sometimes, because he thinks he doesn't deserve a corner of peace in this world, especially with her, but Y/N taught him to be a little selfish when it comes to them, to spend two minutes alone, because he has to stop to pay for Atlantis' punishment: the world doesn't need him to take it on his back. She is the one who needs him.

<< What are you thinking about? >> she asks, bringing him back to the Earth.

<< I don't deserve you. >> he replies and she rolls her eyes, sitting down. Everytime he tells her these words, she gets angry. Everytime, except for this one.

<< Dean, you know you do. >>

<< I don't. >>

<< That's not your call. >>

Dean snorts. He always loses against her.

<< Fine. >>

She smiles, this time for real and Dean's heart skips a beat, when she does it.

<< You know I love you, right? >>

And that's here, in this moment, that he understands it: this is a dream. She doesn't say it. It's not in her DNA to tell these three words, like him and like his dad. That's why she didn't get angry. But Dean nods, holding back his tears, because there's only one explanation of this dream.

<< I know. >>

Out there, she's dead.

He still has nightmares, about what happened three weeks ago. He just can't get through it, he can't forget. There's her blood on his hands, red, too red like strawberry's juice and sticky. The world is crumbling down from his back, an avalanche, hitting his spine, crushing his bones and flattening his lungs. It just feels wrong. Wrong that she got to die so young, wrong that he had to watch her leaving for the last time, wrong that she was still holding the gun and not his hand.

There's not a way back from the darkness. That's what Sam told him, before he got out from the warehouse and slaughtered the witches who hurt her. Even the newspapers talked about it. His moment of unglory. His first memory without her. Even though she was with him, somehow, in his mind.

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

Dean opened an eye, then the other one, while she was still listening to the wind, eyes closed and legs crossed. He put himself closer to her, his hand a few centimeters away from hers. His dad would have said that he was a coward, but the truth is that he didn't want to rush the situation. He let it evolve.