Title: Towards The Golden Light
Author: Raloria
Words: 1,214
Rating: PG with some mild swearing by Dean
Summary: Takes place in Season Three. With time on his demon deal running out, Dean's nights are filled dreams and nightmares.
Author's Notes: My silly Muse took a piece of movie soundtrack and my desktop wallpaper and suddenly got inspired to write this story from Dean's POV.
This was written without a beta, so any mistakes are totally my own.
Disclaimer: Sam & Dean aren't mine, even though Dean's alter ego, Jensen, likes to hang out with my Muse a lot. Apparently he whispered this one into her ear.
Comments: I love feedback good or bad.

Another day comes to an end and with it, another week that puts me closer to my demonic bill coming due. There aren't many more left. It's almost easy to forget about it when we're busy on a hunt. It's all about hunting down whatever badass spirit or demon needs to be taken down and coming out of the fight alive and relatively unharmed. Then it's a meal, maybe a shower, and bed.

Bed. Right. It's getting to where I hate sleeping now. Not to rain on my kid brother's parade, but he's not the only one who has nightmares. They started about a month ago. I didn't think much of them, it's not like I've never dreamed before, it's just that usually I can't remember them. These I remember...in stunning detail. It's rare that I sleep dream-free anymore.

Some are downright frightening, about hell and what my mind thinks it's going to be like. I'm sure my brain is just putting together scenes from movies I've watched over the years, but it still scares the crap out of me. I hope to God they aren't true. Other times I see my dream-self when Sam and I took that freaky dream root to save Bobby. I see myself with black, demonic eyes and venom in my voice, screaming that this is what I'll become. Damn that Ruby. I wish she'd never told me about what happens to humans down in hell.

Then there are the other dreams. They're better in some respects, hopeful, but cruel in the fact that I eventually wake up and know nothing's changed.

Sam's already showered and quietly asleep in the darkened room when I emerge from the bathroom. Settling under the covers of the bed closest to the door, I put up a quick plea that I sleep soundly tonight. Even if it does bring me one day closer to my deadline, let it at least be a peaceful night for once.

It seems my mind has other plans. I dream of being at the crossroads. Late afternoon sun paints everything in a golden color. I look around and see her. She's been here before in these dreams, and every bit as beautiful as I remember. I'm always happy to see her. It's been so long.

"Mom."

She's dressed in white, her golden hair covering her shoulders. Coming towards me, she cups her hand against my cheek and I lean into the touch I've longed to feel for most of my life.

"Sweetheart. It's so good to see you." She kisses my cheek and I just want to stay here forever.

"You remind me so much of your father. This old leather jacket." She grabs the collar and tugs on it.

"I miss him, too." Wherever he is.

We talk. We always do in these dreams. We reminisce, as much as we can considering I was only four when Mom died. We talk about Dad and Sam and all the dreams left behind for a life of hunting. She's sad about the life we've had to lead, but she's glad that we're together to watch out for one another. She says she's watching, keeping an eye on us. In the end the conversation always comes back to me and my deal, a subject that makes me uneasy every time.

"I know you're afraid, Dean and I wish I could do something to help."

"Honestly...it's enough just to be able to see you like this."

She smiles. It's that warm, wonderful smile that reminds me of home. When home was fun and laughter and peacefulness.

"You know Sam will do anything to save you."

"Yeah. I'm just afraid of him taking chances. Maybe even making another deal like I did. We can't keep doing this, Mom."

Her expression turns wistful and sad.

"Your brother loves you...looks up to you. Always has. He would gladly give his life for yours. But sweetheart...there's no way to save you from your fate. I wish there were."

I know this, of course. There's no miracle out there for me. No hope. No answer. Sam can look for an eternity and he won't find anything. My fate is sealed. Hell awaits.

I sniff back a sob. Even in my dreams I can't allow myself to give in to emotions. I've always had to be the strong one in my family.

"I made my choice. Sam will live. He'll go on."

"But he won't be okay, Dean. He won't. He needs you so much, honey. More than you'll ever know."

Oh, Sammy. How am I going to watch out for you now?

"I'm trying to get him ready, Mom. I know it won't be easy, but he deserves to be normal and live happily."

"And you don't?" She again presses her hand to my cheek. My emotions are fighting within me. I want to stay, but I can't take this anymore. There's no answers here, only useless wishes.

Mom, don't make me say it. My eyes blur with tears. I'm losing this battle, in more ways than one.

"It's not a life I was ever meant to have." My voice breaks. Dammit! I don't want to do this.

"Oh, my dear son...you deserved to have a better life. Free of worry and burdens." She holds my face in her hands and tears run down my cheeks. I want to believe her. I want to believe that even though I've led a violent, hard life, that maybe I could have had something else, something better.

"Mom..." Please, Mom...please make it better.

"Shhh...shhhh..." And somehow I'm suddenly kneeling before her, holding onto her...my face pressed against her stomach. Through her clothing, I can smell the perfume she used to wear. Her arms wrap around my head and she holds me. Why can't I just stay here with you, Mom. I don't want to leave. I don't want to die.

"Know that even where you are going that I will always love you, Dean. Always. Even in the darkness, I'll be there."

I sniffle and look up at her, feeling like the little boy with scraped knees and cut fingers that she once comforted.

"You will?"

"Of course, sweetheart." She runs her fingers through my hair like she used to when she'd put me to bed each night.

"Please, Mom...I don't want to die. I don't want to go down there."

She smiles at me sadly.

"It's time to wake up now, Dean."

"No, Mom. Not yet. Don't make me leave." God, I'm begging. I hate that I'm begging, but I can't help myself. Please don't let this end, Mom.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart. I wish we had more time. "

"No...Mom..."

She bends her head down to kiss my forehead...and I wake up.

My heart is pounding, a sheen of sweat on my face as I struggle to even out my breathing. Sitting up, I feel a lone tear go down my face and I quickly wipe it away. Sam is still sleeping, and as I look towards the window and see the early glow of morning light I know I'm that much closer to the day I never wake up again.

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