Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

I look down to find I'm wearing the same pajamas I was wearing on that night fifteen years ago, before reaching up and finding that my hair is short again, just like it was fifteen years ago. I'm a teenager now, just like I was fifteen years ago. I'm running through my house like I was fifteen years ago. I run straight into my living room exactly like I did fifteen years ago, just in time to see my father choke the life out of my older brother. He tosses the rather large body aside like it's a ragdoll. That's when I know something's wrong. My brother was a tall, well-built sophomore in college who played football. My dad shouldn't be able to lift him.

"Dad?" I whisper, just like I did fifteen years ago. He turns to me, smiling, and his eyes are black. I whimper in fear, just like I did fifteen years ago, as my father walks towards me slowly.

"Evangeline," he says, and I cringe. I haven't been called that since I was young, when my stepmother used to scold me. "Who gave you permission to walk in on a moment like this?"

"I…" my voice fades. I glance behind him, to where my stepmother is pinned to the wall with a knife through her chest. "No one. I… I just wanted a drink of water, and I heard a scream, and-" I start to cry.

"It'll be over soon," he says, coming even closer. "If you close your eyes, your death will be faster than-"

Crash. Something- or someone- comes flying through the glass of the backdoor. I scream and stumble backwards.

A man stands up- good looking, with black hair and a strong build, probably in his thirties- and brushes glass off his shoulders.

"Who gave you the right to be here, demon?" he asks, taking bottle of water decorated with a cross out of his pocket.

"You're a hunter," my father hisses, before lunging at him.

"Dean, get the girl!" the man yells, before raising a knife to defend himself. "Take her outside!"

"No! Don't hurt him, please!" I scream, looking away as the man slashes at my father's arm with the blade. Meanwhile, a black figure darts through the glass window and runs towards me.

I hold out my hands in front of my face to protect myself, but the figure stops right in front of me. I lift my hands as he starts to push me down the hall, towards the front door. It's a young man- he looks to be around twenty or twenty-one.

He unlocks the front door quickly and pushes me outside before closing it behind us.

"Stay here," he says.

"Wait!" I cry. "Don't leave me alone out here, please."

He glances at the door one more time before sighing. "Alright. Sit down."

Still crying, I sit down next to him reluctantly. "What is that man going to do to my dad?"

He looks at me. "Your dad was possessed by a demon. He might die."

"That man's going to kill him?" I ask, bursting into a fresh wave of tears.

"Maybe not." The boy coughs. "You don't seem very freaked out by the whole 'demon' thing."

"I saw the black eyes," I say quietly. "And I'm going to minor in Biblical Studies."

"Oh." He's silent for a few seconds before he says, "I'm Dean."

"I'm Evangeline," I say, sniffling and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "But you can call me Angela. Everyone calls me Angela." I don't know why I say it. Everyone calls me Eva, not Angela. Evangeline doesn't even have an extra 'a' in it that could be added to the end of 'Angel' to even make the name 'Angela,' but I decide right here and now that I want to change my name, so I do.

"Nice to meet you, Angela," he says. "Even if it's under these circumstances."

"Nice to meet you, too, Dean."

At that exact moment, the front door opens and the man- I'm guessing he's Dean's father- pokes his head out. "Dean," he says in a stern voice. "Come here."

Dean stands up and walks over to his father, who whispers something in his ear. Dean pales, but nods. His father disappears as the door closes.

I stand up. "Is my dad okay?"

"Your dad…" Dean takes a deep breath and sighs. "He came to and saw what he did, and… my dad says he killed himself. It was too much for him."

I sit right back down and burst into tears. "Why did this happen?" I sob.

"I don't know," he says quietly. "Bad things happen to good people. Do you need me to call the police for you? My dad's wiping away every trace of us, and we'll be gone by the time they get here."

"Yeah." I try to catch my breath, but I just start to hyperventilate. "Thank you for saving me."

I see his grim smile, and the scene changes.

I'm running down the hall again to the source of the noise, but I'm the right age this time, at my normal thirty four years old. I'm wearing my usual attire, a flannel and a pair of jeans with combat boots.

When I get there, I see Sam, Dean's younger brother, pinned to the wall with a knife, in the place of my stepmother.

And in the grip of the demon we exorcised on our last hunt is Dean himself. He looks like he's the right age, too- around thirty-five.

"Dean!" I scream, not even bothering to keep my presence hidden from the demon. It would know I'm here anyway.

"Angie…" he gasps out the relatively new form of endearment he has for me. "Run…"

I shake my head, drawing a bottle from my back pocket and throwing its contents at the demon. "Exorcizamus te," I scream, "omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte-"

The demon screams and hisses as the holy water makes contents with its skin. It drops Dean, who falls to the floor gasping and choking.

"Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire," I continue quickly. "Te rogamus…"

The demon pulls something out of its pocket and lunges at Dean.

"Audi nos!" I scream. The vessel's mouth opens wide as black smoke pours out, before the man, no longer possessed, falls to the ground.

"Dean!" I cry, dropping to my knees beside him. "Are you okay?"

He smiles slightly, and then I know he's not. "I was okay," he whispers. "And then the damn thing stabbed me."

"Oh, my God," I wail. "This is all my fault! I should've been faster."

"This is the way it's gotta be, Angie," he says. "Sammy and I go together or not at all, right?"

I laugh through tears. "I suppose."

"Take care of the bunker."

"I will," I say. "But you can live, Dean. Please, you have to."

"And make sure Kevin doesn't go crazy over that tablet. Tell Garth that he made Bobby proud."

"I will."

"And tell Jody thanks for making sure Sam knew what a mom voice sounds like. And Charlie… make sure you tell Charlie that I love her, and when she says 'I know' tell her that I'm smiling."

"God damn it, Dean Winchester," I growl. "Stop focusing on other people and care about yourself for once. Don't die. Focus on not dying."

He smiles. "Tell Cas thanks for everything."

A tear rolls down my cheek silently. All the others he rarely sees, so he could die at any time before saying goodbye to them. But he sees Cas everyday. If he's telling me to say goodbye to Cas for him now, then he's definitely going to die soon.

"And, you, Angie…" he coughs, and blood colors his lips red.

"What about me?" I ask, sniffling.

"There's a place for you in my Heaven." He coughs again, and blood dribbles down his chin. I wipe it away with me sleeve. "Come join me whenever you want, okay? Just not too soon."

"What are you saying, Dean?" I ask nervously. He couldn't possibly be talking about-

"I love you, Angie," he says raspily. "I know it's pointless telling you now, and you probably don't even love me back, but I love you."

"No, no, no," I say, blinking rapidly to stop my eyes from getting blinded by tears. "I love you, too."

"Good." He coughs a third time. "I was so lost, and you were like a light pulling me back from the edge. Thank you for saving me, Angie."

I smile. "No, Dean. Thank you."

He takes a deep breath and smiles weakly. "Thank you for saving me."

He can't say that. He can't. He can't say the last words I spoke to him on that doorstep fifteen years ago, and expect me to go on living after that. He can't.

"No, no, no…" I shake him tears roll down my face. "Dean! No, please! Come back! Please, don't die, please!"

He doesn't respond. His green eyes are glassy and wide open, and his mouth is still twisted into that last smile.

I remember this pain, this pain I'm feeling now. I felt it when my family died. And I remember a phrase. A Latin phrase. My brother's girlfriend, who was majoring in teaching, had whispered it over his coffin at the funeral.

It seems appropriate to say now, so I do. "Vale in aeternum, mea amica," I say, my voice barely a whisper, as I reach forward and close Dean's eyes. Farewell forever, my love.

I start to sob- and then I bolt awake, gasping.

I look around the dark room quickly as I try to slow my heavy breathing. I'm in my bedroom in the bunker. I'm safe. No one's dead.

My clock reads only 11:00. Dean and I had gotten up at 3:30 this morning in order to make it back to the bunker before nightfall. It had been a long hunt, and we were both a little homesick. We didn't make it, rolling in at about 9:15, but Sam had food ready for us, which we both thanked him for as we ate. Then we both went straight to our bedrooms to sleep. I had fallen asleep at about 10:00.

I consider laying back down and trying to fall back asleep, but I get the shivers just thinking about it. It's hard to sleep after nightmares unless someone's with you, which I know from experience.

I tip-toe out of my bedroom and into Dean's bedroom, which is right across the hall.

I was going to wake him up, but when I see his face, I decide that I can't. He looks like I've never seen him before- completely at peace. He's not angry about a hunt or stressed about research or worried about Kevin, Cas, and Sam.

I sigh quietly and slide under the covers. I'll sneak out in the morning, while he's still asleep. Or, if he wakes up before me, I'll explain why I'm in here, if I have to. Dean will understand, hopefully.

I'm careful not to touch him, lest he wake up. But it feels nice to know someone's there beside me.

I fall asleep without a problem on my own side of Dean's bed.

When I wake up again, it's not from a nightmare, but from movement. The clock, with its glow in the dark red numbers, reads 1:30. Dean is still asleep, and I- well, we're wrapped each other.

His face is resting in the crook of my neck, and my back is against his stomach. His arms are wrapped around my torso, and one of my legs is between his.

I should move, but if feels nice to be held by someone. Especially someone you love.

So I don't worry about it, choosing to fall back asleep instead.

When I wake up the next time, Dean is gone, and the lamp on the bedside table is on.

Shit, I think, looking around for the clock, but it's gone. Dean must have knocked it off the table when he got out of bed. He must be in the bathroom, which is down the hall from the bedrooms.

I feel like a coward, but I get up and prepare to sneak out the door. I'm ready to hide for as long as possible, to avoid Dean. He already knows I was in here, so I'm going to get it anyway.

I take the ponytail from my wrist and pull my auburn hair back to get it out of my face as I walk towards the door. I reach out to open it-

And Dean pulls it open from the outside.

Instantly, I can feel my face turn a bright crimson as I blush. "Oh, my God, Dean, I'm so, so sorry. I can explain-"

"At four o'clock in the morning?" he asks, scratching his head and squinting at me.

I blink, caught off-guard. "What?"

"It's, like, four o'clock in the morning, Angie." He yawns. "I was just going to go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You… you don't care that I got into your bed last night?" I ask, flustered.

"Not really," he says, slipping past me into the room. "I mean, I was sort of surprised, but it's not like I haven't thought about it."

I look at him incredulously. "What do you mean, it's not like you haven't thought about it?"

He looks confused. "Did I seriously just say that out loud?" He sits down on his bed. "It's way too early for this."

"Agreed," I say with a yawn. "Anyway, I'm sorry for bothering you." I turn back towards the door, ready to walk back to my own room.

"You're gonna leave?" he asks, sounding a little tired and a little sad. I nod, trying not to grimace. "Okay."

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask, trying not to sound hopeful.

"That would be nice," he says, blinking tiredly. "I woke up from a nightmare and you were there. It was comforting. I mean, it's hard to fall asleep after a nightmare if there's no one with you."

"I'll stay, then," I say with a slight smile as I walk back over to the bed and slip underneath the warm covers again.

"Thanks," he says, joining me underneath the covers. He looks at me, unsure of what to do next. "Do you mind if I-"

"No, not at all." He wraps his arms around me, nestling his head into the crook of my neck. "Goodnight, Dean."

He sighs contently. "Goodnight, Angie."

A few minutes pass, before I say, "I was thinking exactly what you said before I came in here earlier."

"What was that?" he murmurs tiredly, his breath warm in my ear.

I turn to face him. "About how it's hard to sleep after having a nightmare unless someone's with you."

He smiles slightly, his eyes still closed. "It's true."

"I know," I whisper. "And tonight I was terrified and then I came in here and I felt safe. So thank you. Thank you for saving me."

"It's been my pleasure to save you, Evangeline Davis," Dean says with a slight smile, kissing my forehead gently.

It's been the first time I've heard that name in fifteen years, and for some reason, all the bad memories attached to it from that awful night seem to vanish when it comes from his lips. It no longer sounds sordid, unworthy of being said for fear of painful memories arising. Coming from him, it sounds beautiful.

"It's been my pleasure," he repeats sleepily, and I smile, before turning back around and getting comfortable in his embrace.

A few minutes later, as I'm about to fall asleep, he whispers in my ear, "And thank you, Angie, for saving me."

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