The dreams were usually the same, but not tonight. Usually, they were much darker, a glimpse of hell in a span of a single moment. But not tonight. This dream was calm. There was nothing to see at first, but there was the sound of the tide coming in, soothing, and the creaking of the wood on the pier. Everything was soft and muted. Then the picture started to form in your mind; the sun setting on the horizon and the white froth on the crest of the waves further into the sea. This dream was new and warm and sweet, so unlike all the other dreams.

And then there was a voice calling to you from afar, again, muted. The words were strung together; ithasbeenalongtimeIhavemisse dyouwheredidyougoforsolongar eyoustayingthistime. The voice was so familiar and you know you've heard it before, but you just can't place it, and damn, it's just on the tip of your tongue, you can practically taste it.

A man, that's who is calling you. You can hear him clearer now and those are his footsteps that you're hearing, too. If you turn around now, you'll see him and you know you'll recognize him.

"Dean."

Your name, that's all he says. It's been a while and you think there should be more to say, but really, all you need is reassurance; something to let you know that yes, he is in fact here, and he was waiting for you and he missed you. That's all you need right now because you know you'll wake up soon and he won't be there anymore and you'll go about your day feeling guilty for letting go, and then hiding your guilt from your brother and then feeling more guilt for hiding it. But that's how your life has always been and everything has been going downhill since dad died, but you don't ever find yourself crying for him late at night when Sammy is sleeping, and it's not him that you pray to every night. Your father may be in heaven, but he's no angel, not like the man that is standing behind you on the beach, waiting for you to turn around, but you can't. He's not really there and you need to wake up.

And when you do, it hits you, how perfectly alone you are without him. You may have denied it before, when he was still around, how much you needed him, but now he's gone and you're not sure he's coming back this time, you're not sure if he even can come back. But if he could, he would have, right? He'd have found you, like he always used to and everything would be fine and the weight on your shoulders where you've perched the entire damn world will feel a little lighter, a little more bearable. He'd probably even offer to carry some of it for you because he feels guilty, too, despite the fact that you forgave him for that a long time ago.

But that hasn't happened and it probably won't, not this time, not tonight. And you hate yourself a little more every day because you never got the chance to let him know how you feel, but really, when have you ever talked about your feelings? Not to him, not to your brother, and definitely not to your father. It's just not how you work.

"Morning, Dean. How'd you sleep?"

Luckily you're facing away from him when he asks, otherwise he'd see the expression on your face and he'd just know. Sammy always knows. He knew about the nightmares, but you won't tell him about this. If you did he would really worry and he doesn't need your problems on his plate, too.

"Fine. I slept, just fine."