"He needs you…."

I shoot out of sleep and nearly out of the bed itself. This is not the first time. I have not been able to sleep for almost the entire week, no thanks to the voice that haunts my dreams. I am past the point of aggravation.

It's cold, something I am not used to. Living in southern California my entire life had not prepared me for the winters of the Greenbelt of New York. It's late in January, a month I accustomed with weather in the sixty degree margin, not the single digits. It doesn't help that the small house I rented is most likely haunted. It's either that, or I'm crazy, but I'm going with the latter. Regardless of all of this, returning to California is out of the question.

"Come out," I call into the darkness.

I wait several moments before scoffing and throwing off the blankets. My bare fit hit the cold wooden floor and I scuffle around for my slippers. Eventually, I find them under the bed and walk around the room.

"Come out! I'm sick of this shit! I haven't had a good night's sleep in a week."

Nothing.

"I could do things to you that you can't even imagine. So either come out now, or leave me alone so I can sleep!"

There is still no answer, so I turn back to bed, kick off my slippers, and pull the blankets over my head. I'm almost asleep when I hear the voice again.

"Go to him."

"Goddamitt, what did I say?" I yell then, throwing the blankets up again and switching on the bedside light.

That's when I see him. There is a man standing at the foot of my bed, average size with scruffy brown hair and a long tan trench coat. I have never seen him before and instinct has me out of bed in seconds, with a knife in my hand moments later.

"Get out of my house or this is going through your heart. I'm not fucking around. Out. Now."

He grins slightly.

"That won't hurt me."

I don't allow him the chance to move. Instead, I throw it at him. He catches the knife just before it hits him, turns the handle, and plunges the blade directly through his breastbone and into his heart. Then, without any blood flow, he pulls it out and tosses it to the floor with a bang. My eyes widen.

"You've gotten a bit rusty, Slayer."

My head cocks slightly to the left in suspicion.

"What are you?"

He knows about Slayers. Even more so, he knows that I am one. Or that I used to be one. I ran away from that life over a year ago.

"Is that really important right now?"

"Well, considering you have broken into my house, I would say, yes, it is."

"You've never seen anything like me."

"Try me."

"I'm an angel."

"Right…look, you're a ghost, aren't you? And you're just bored, so you're messing with me."

"I'm not a ghost."

I roll my eyes, just wishing he would leave or disappear. Sleep is at the forefront of my mind. At that point, I figure he could sleep there, as long as he would just keep quiet.

"What do you want? Why are you bothering me?"

My initial fear of him has dwindled and I am sitting beneath my covers again with my arms wrapped around my knees. My eyes are only halfway open.

"I don't want anything. But Dean needs you."

There suddenly is a feeling in my chest that my insides are caving in. I can't breathe. I feel violated, sad, and angry all in an abrupt instant. Part of me wants to leap out of bed again, but I can't move.

His name had only played in my head over the past year – I hadn't dare spoken it. Had I said it out loud, I don't know if I would have made it as far as had now. Acknowledging his existence even now was difficult enough.

"Dean's…gone."

I can't look at whatever this thing was standing in front of me. My eyes are welling up with tears that I don't want to fall and I am starting to shake. I inadvertently run my fingers over my wedding ring. As much as I wish he wouldn't watch me, I can feel his eyes burning into my skin. He's not human, that's certain, so I can't say I blame him. Avoiding uncomfortable stares is a trait often lost on those outside the human race.

"He's not. Not entirely. And he needs you."

"This is cruel, you know that?!" I shout at him, a growl in my voice. The tears I was trying to hold back are cascading down my face."

"No, Buffy, it's not. Cruel is leaving him out by himself while you deny what I'm telling you."

I wish I knew how he knows so much about me.

"Listen to me, you creepy whatever the hell you are, Dean is dead. He died last year right after our wedding. Directly after. They knew where we were going to be, those demon bastards, and they killed him. The only reason I survived was because of my fucked up lineage. He wasn't as strong as me."

"You have to listen to what I'm telling you-"

"You know what, why don't you get the hell out of my house? How am I supposed to believe anything you say-"

There is a burst of white light before me then, one so bright that I fear I may have gone blind. The house vanishes and there is a deathly silence. I am nowhere. Then it all stops and I feel cold. The two of us, me and the so called angel, are standing in the middle of the woods. I recognize them. They are miles from the house. I occasionally go running through them, but have avoided it lately due to the temperature.

"What are we doing out here. I'm in my pajamas, its freezing!"

"Quiet!"

There is a harsh tone to his voice that makes me shrink downwards, something incredibly authoritative that I am not used to. I glare at him and look around the woods. It's dark, with nothing but the moon to illuminate the surrounding area. The leaves are covered with a slight layer of snow, one that has frozen to the ground due to freezing rain. My feet are cold. I'm about to ask him another question when I hear the leaves crackling behind us.

I spin around and even in the darkness, I know it's him. It's the smell – the smell of my husband.

"Dean," I breathe, not sure if I even say the word out loud.

I'm unaware that a slight tear has run down my cheek. He is standing several feet away from me, his body covered in dirt, his eyes wild. His nails are broken and jagged, like he has crawled out of something. I move towards him, but he looks past me and falls to the ground, still awake, but apparently exhausted.

"He can't see me," I say, turning back to the creature in the long coat, "why? Why can't he see me?"

I'm crying fully now, my voice ragged and loud enough to echo through the woods.

"We're not visible to him. I told you, I'm an angel. We're not even really here. We're just viewing this place."

"What the fuck does that mean? Never mind, just send me back home now!" I insist, angry I can't do it myself.

He doesn't hesitate and I am again in my bedroom, only I am alone and my feet are covered in dirt. Without even grabbing a coat or shoes, I bolt from the house and run faster than I ever have into the woods. My chest feels it may burst at any second, the cold air shredding my insides. Miles into the darkness, I find my husband, cold, shaking, and scared. Before he can say anything, I collapse beside him on the frozen dirt, wrap my arms tightly around him, and breathe in his scent with tears running down my face.