Anna Milton flopped into bed after a long day of running errands for her mother and father, dodging calls from her rather over-bearing roommate who was way too friendly for her liking, and overall, just exhausting herself pretending that she was happy, and content with the life she was living. It wasn't that it wasn't a nice life. She was safe, loved, but, something was missing.
She pulled the covers up to her chin, and curled her body into a ball. Her fiery red hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, as she lay back, and prepared herself for more strange dreams. She never remembered much when she woke up, just flashes of clouds, the glinting of sunlight off of blades, the roar of a battle, and the gut wrenching feeling of flying, high in the sky, and then the feeling of falling, hard and fast. And wings, always the glimpses of golden wings, and midnight blue ones, that faded into black. She sighed to herself, and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.
It wasn't until late that night, hours after she'd fallen asleep that the sound entered her mind. It was the consistent beating of wings, and a man's labored breathing. Mumbled sounds that were obviously meant to be comforting, and groans, no, moans, almost screams of pain. The bizarre mixof noises consumed her, commanded that she pay attention. So she did. Faintly, she heard the rustling of leaves, and a gasp of air, like life flooding back into a man that had been dead for forty years. And then, ringing through her mind like church bells, was a lilting, triumphant voice, overcome with delight, laughter, booming, joyous strains that could've been intermingled with tears of relief, rejoicing, singing his exultation to her, and anybody else who would listen. If she could have described it to anyone, she would've said that the words the man said sounded like happiness, happiness in its purest form. That voice, that beautiful voice that was broadcast to every celestial being that ever was, decreed He's been saved! Dean Winchester, has been saved! And then, there was an uproar.
Anna bolted awake, shooting straight into a sitting position. She wiped the sweat from her brow, and brushed the hair that was plastered there back onto the top of her head. She panted.
"Who the hell is Dean Winchester?"
It was years later, long after Anna was gone that it happened again. This time though, there was no happiness, there was no jubilance, no singing of exultation to the masses. This time, there was a gut wrenching scream of anguish, and helplessness, and every angel, everywhere had no choice but to stop what they were doing, and listen to the bone-chilling cry. And every single celestial being, no matter what side they were fighting for, shivered when a broken, grief stricken voice sobbed Dean Winchester is dead.