Author's Note: This is a one-shot dedicated to my sister, Vanilleisbae. Hopefully, you all enjoy it as much as she will. I used the song "Hell Don't Need Me" by Demon Hunter, a band I find very suiting for Dean Winchester.

I don't wanna close my eyes

I can't tell if I'm asleep or if I'm blind

Propped up in the motel bed, Dean's eyelids were heavy with sleep. Sam had gone out in to grab something for the pair to eat for dinner. Dean had a lot of trouble sleeping since he'd been alive again. Being in hell for four months had scarred the older Winchester; flashbacks of the things that had happened to him, the souls he tortured down there. Glimpses of the male clawing out of the ground from his grave also wracked his mind, causing a deep suffering within the brunette. He didn't wanna sleep, fear of the continuous nightmares kept him awake for the last 48 hours. Yet, it was inevitable, his eyes slowly coming to a close.

We're going nowhere
No one seems to care

A bright light blinded the hunter, illuminating his entire form. Where was he? Once the light settled, he noted the luscious landscape before himself; great greens and flowers and trees which stretched for miles it seemed. Looking down at his hands, he flexed his fingers, this seemed too real. His eyes darted all around himself, cautious as to what was going on. Was it his mind playing tricks on him or had a supernatural being transported him someplace away from the motel? Did Sam return? If he had, did he care? Dean hid a lot from his brother even though his memory retained the awful pictures and paintings of hell and what had happened during his time there. Still, he couldn't help but feel as if the younger Winchester was preoccupied and wasn't supportive of him.

Dean began to walk through the bright emerald grass, his footsteps cutting perfect shapes within the lush earth. He walked for miles it seemed, nothing in sight beyond the landscape. He was getting nowhere.

The water will decide
Where to feed me

Finally, he came upon a small stream, something refreshing after the long walk he'd endured. Slowly, he bent down to take a drink, his eyes remaining straight ahead, his awareness of his surroundings intense. Figuring it was best to follow the stream, Dean took a sharp turn and began upstream. His boots sloshed through some of the shallow water, his feet kicking some of the pebbles which laid stray beneath the cool substance. Again, he walked for miles it seemed, until he came upon a small slope. Climbing the small slope, his eyes widened slightly in awe at the space in which he came upon. A small bench sat ahead, trees enclosing the bench, flowers leading almost like a walkway right towards the bench. Tilting his head gently, a familiar face sat upon the bench, peering back at Dean with a smile. A woman he hadn't seen in years, but only a faint memory of her remained.

"..Mom?"

"Dean," Mary responded, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her son.

This couldn't have been real. It had to be a trick, a demon must've been playing a damned good trick on him. "If this is some kind of sick joke, you better show yourself." Dean commented, not wanting to accept that the vision was in fact, real.

"It's not a trick, Dean." Mary told him, gently patting the bench next to where she sat. "Come here."

She hadn't seen her boy since she'd died many years ago, and here he was, a grown man. The smile upon her face began to widen at the thought of her little Dean living and surviving as long as he had. Most hunters didn't live as long a life he had. However, Mary knew about his death, about him being dragged straight to hell.

Hesitantly, Dean crossed the grass before taking a seat next to his mother. As she reached out and touched his face, tears began to show behind her eyes, indicating every emotion she clung to.

"I never thought you'd return. I thought you'd be stuck there."

"Where?" Dean questioned, relishing in his mother's gentle touch. It was surreal, his mind raced with every doubt.

"Hell, Dean." She explained. "I'm so glad you're alive."

Dean swallowed thickly before reaching out to wipe a tear from her face.

Mother don't you cry
Hell don't need me

"Hell don't need me." Dean told her, his voice wavering with a tense emotion behind it.

"I've seen how you take care of Sam, the good deeds you've done to help those who can't protect themselves. I'm proud of you, Dean." She paused. "And Sam." She added.

Dean's lip quivered and burning tears began to well within his eyes. "It doesn't change the fact that we couldn't save you."

"I'm okay, Dean. It's okay."

Before he could embrace his mother, he was shaken awake, his eyes snapping open widely. Glancing around the room, he remembered he was stuck in the dank motel room, back on the hunt for a shapeshifter who had eluded the brothers for weeks.

"I got you a burger." Sam told his brother, handing out a brown bag to him.

Grasping the bag, Dean swallowed a dry lump down his throat. He'd be the only one with the memory of the vision or dream he'd just had of their mother. Should he tell Sammy or should he keep it to himself like he had the rest of his problems? Chewing it over for a moment, Dean decided it was best left to keep silent. They had work to do, after all.