A.N.: Hey guys this is just a tag to 'The mentalists' so spoilers up to then. It's been a hell of a week for me and I need a little pick me up. Hope you like, thanks as always for reading.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

He has to avert his eyes. It hurt too much to watch the former angel, current whatever the hell sink under the water. He knew what came next. A dark stain would form in the water before it split and shot off every different direction and the trench coat would float to the side of the lake like a discarded piece of trash.

He hates this part…can he please just skip to the screaming awake part already? A hand touches his shoulder blade, soft and gentle and so out of place in the torrent of his nightmares that he jumps.

He turns on his heel ready to face whatever messed up vision has forced its way into his noggin and is stunning by who stands before him.

"What are you doing here?" he mutters.

She raises one elbow in a lazy shrug. "How the hell should I know? It's your dream."

Dean drinks in the sight of her, of comfort and love and happiness. A happiness that is chased away as he remembers where she truly is.

"Well this is weird."

"You're telling me."

"I mean I wouldn't be too surprised if it was Jo, but you,"

He's unprepared for the light whack to the side of his head. "You watch your mouth boy, I may be dead, but that's my daughter you're talking about."

Dean shuffles his feet. "Sorry I didn't mean it like that, just been thinking,"

Ellen sighs. "I know."

"You aren't supposed to be here, it's Cas, then Sam, then Amy, then Jack."

Ellen shakes her head. "It's your dream Dean, if you don't want me here, then you can make me go away."

Dean meets her eyes. "Did you mean what you said?"

Ellen smiles at him. "I've said a lot of things; you're going to have to remind me."

"Are you worried about me? You know…even now."

She takes a step towards him, hand resting on his arm. "Of course I'm worried about you."

He takes a step back, the touch unnerving him. "So even though I'm the reason that you and Jo got burnt extra crispy you still give a damn about me?"

Her head dips in conformation.

"Why? Why don't you hate me and Sam? Why did Jo not relish in being able to give me a little payback? Why are you reaching out through some freaking psychic to tell me to get my shit together?"

She chuckles softly. "What good is hating you going to do me and Jo now? We're dead. Not like we can pop back in to snap you out of it. Lord knows if I could,"

"If you never met us, if you never met me, you and Jo would be…" he breaks off and tries to compose himself. "You could have had a life."

"Would we be alive? Maybe. Would we have never had any tragic thing happen to us? No. Who knows what could have been? You just do the best with what you have kid."

Dean feels his chest swell with sorrow; he feels guilt gnaw at his insides just like it does when he thinks about Jo.

Jo…Ellen…they should be the ones alive.

"You should still be alive Ellen. You deserve it more than I do."

"Deserve it? What the hell type of scales are you using? I wasn't a saint Dean. I won't have you thinking that of me. I was jealous, I was foolish, and I had a terrible temper. I can't do anything to fix my mistakes. All I can do is hope you can change yours."

His head ducks down in shame. "I don't think I can do this. "

Ellen storms up to him and grips his shoulder. "Now you listen here Dean Winchester, you can do this. You've been kicked more than anyone I have ever seen and you still come up swinging. You're tired, who isn't? You're scared, just means you still have a little bit of sanity rattling up in your skull, you have a broken heart, sweetheart those things heal."

She cups a hand around Dean's chin. "You are worth something. You. Not as Sam's caretaker, or a Hunter, or any other damn label you have given yourself. As a person."

Dean blinks back tears as he tries to remember when the last time someone had told him that was.

"Why are you doing this Ellen? Why do you care so much?"

Ellen pats the side of his face. "Because Dean you're family. The fact that I'm dead doesn't change that."

His mouth quirks up into a sad smile. "But,"

"No buts, now wake up and drink some coffee for God's sake. You smell like the bottom of the Roadhouse floor."

Dean jolts awake the same as every other morning, as his chest pulsing up and down with heaving breathes. Sam is nowhere to be seen and Dean leans over the side of the bed to grab the half empty bottle of beer.

Fragments of his dream are flitting around in his head as he stands and crosses over to the sink. He eyes the liquid sloshing around in the bottle. He can see out of the corner of his eye the sweet bun and coffee and note that Sam left for him.

His lifts the bottle to his lips and pauses. He wants to slam the contents down his throat and let it burn all the way down. He wants to forget all of the guilt and responsibility and swim in the calming waters of oblivion.

You're better than that.

The thought comes unbidden and without really thinking about it he upends the beer into the sink and watches the amber fluid swirl down into the drain.

He's still staring at the sink in numb fascination when Sam comes in through the door.

"Hey."

Dean doesn't turn.

"Hey Dean, you okay?" Sam voice is laced with concern even if he is a little bit out of breath.

Big, healthy freak.

He pivots towards his brother, eyes him and then the food on the table. "Yeah, I'm okay." He replies as he goes to sit down.

"You sure? You were kinda zoning when I came in."

Dean nods as he takes a bite from the sweet bun and a swig from his coffee. "Had some weird dreams, but yeah I'm good."

Sam tilts his head in confusion. "You just don't seem,"

"Dude, drop it. I'm okay."

Sam shakes his head. "Whatever you say Dean."

"I mean I'm not as good as you Ranger Rick, nice shorts."

His brother's face colors as he looks down at his clothing. "It's hot out." He offers in protest.

"Really? Cause from where I'm standing it looks like it's raining men." He snorts.

Sam throws a bitch face over his shoulder as he heads to the shower. "I hope you choke on your sweet bun."

Dean takes another hearty bite as he calls out. "Whatever you say sweetbuns!"

The comment earns him a slammed door and a slew of curse words.

Dean tilts back the coffee cup. "That's my boy."

A.W. If you don't understand the 'raining men' comment feel free to go to youtube and type in 'raining men vampires suck' and then laugh…a lot! :P