"Dammit, Sam! I'm so sick of this!" exclaimed a very irritated Dean Winchester as he and his brother Sam finally reached their motel room, dropping their equipment and things onto the floor or on a table, too tired to unpack anything or try and get settled. They wouldn't be here long anyway. Dean fell backwards onto the bed and put his pillow over his face, groaning as Sam settled at the little desk in the corner and pulled out his computer. They had just finished a job –a very painful job- concerning a vampire teaming up with a ghoul who had both been crazed with hunger for blood and flesh. It had taken place in the little Mississippi town they were currently staying in, where over fifty people had been killed. Violently. It hadn't been pretty. The brothers knew if Castiel, their angel guardian, hadn't swung in to help, they might've been eaten themselves.

"We're losing our grip, Sammy," murmured the older brother from under his pillow, not even bothering to change his clothes or get in the shower to try and scrub the grime from his hair. He was just too tired. The more people that seemed to die on these jobs, the more it bore down on the brash yet charming Dean. Ten long years of this –dare he calls it- career, it's been more of a weight than any regular human should have had to bear, he and his brother Sam. Taking the pillow off of his head, he looked over to see said brother silently clicking away on his laptop. Sam had been quiet. He usually was when jobs were harder than normal. Sam's face was hard and emotionless, his lips a tight line and his hazel eyes scanning the screen slowly. His hair was long, getting almost past his chin. A slight scruff was forming over his face, both of them haven't had a chance to shave for a few days.

Finding the willpower to stand, Dean's boots hit the wood floor as he took a seat next to Sam, who pretended not to acknowledge his brother. It's not that Sam didn't love his brother dearly, it's just that he had a tendency to shut everything out when he was in any kind of emotion turmoil. It had started after Jess had died, only worsening throughout the bittering years. He knew Dean meant well and thought it helped to talk things out- but he really didn't feel like talking right now.

"Sammy-"

"I know, De." Were the only three words the youngest Winchester would mutter throughout the rest of the night. Huffing, Dean sulked away to the bathroom, where he found the strength to shower.

He stepped out with a towel around his waist, skin still moist and damp from the water as he ran a smaller towel through his brown hair. He saw Sam curled up in his bed, having stripped of his clothes and now sleeping in his boxers. Dean smirked at his baby brother, picking out some nightclothes from his duffel before brushing his teeth and climbing into his own bed. But he didn't sleep… not for a while at least. He lay there in the dark motel room, thinking. As he usually did in the wee hours of the morning. Dean couldn't count the times he had questioned why he was doing all of this- giving up so much for so little reward. But it always came back to the same answer- it's what his father would have wanted. His mother would have wanted him to care for Sam, when his father was too revenge-ridden to do it himself. That was exactly what Dean lived for: caring for Sammy. Sammy came first.

But he often found himself wondering if there were other things he could have out of life. He had his brother, and very few friends and allies, and an occasional woman willing to share his bed, some more so than others, but those never lasted. Sometimes he wanted more… sometimes he wanted a good woman by his side, one who could handle this hardship he called his life, one who could comfort him when no one else could, could protect him when he needed to be protected. But often having such desires made him feel weak, that he needed to handle these things on his own and that he shouldn't thrust these burdens on anyone but himself. Dean just wasn't that kind of man.

Sleep eventually settled over the aggravated man, and for once, he was numbed to the world around him.

For once in a very long time, Dean Winchester dreamed. He felt heat surrounding him, but it was not a dangerous hear. It was a gentle heat, like the sun on a warm day or a campfire on a cold night. His surroundings were dark, but they slowly came to light as he saw a ring of fire appear over his head, illuminating around him. He was on a stone pathway, and the ring of light was leading up further up the path. Curious, Dean followed the ball of softly burning flames further up the narrow passage, his path only lit when he was near the fire. He found himself in the middle of a dark forest, the ball of fire stopping. But it began to fester and grow, changing shape and seemingly growing more dangerous. Dean found himself backing away as he watched the sphere transform into a majestic bird, what seemed to be the fortunate offspring of an eagle and a swan, the neck graceful and elongated, the body strong and the wings long and absolutely captivating. The plumage was red as blood, accented with gold, orange, and purple. The beak was curved, sharp and dangerous, but the bird's eyes were big and gentle, colored the most royal purple. Fire spiked off of the wings as the bird took flight around the little grove Dean was in, and all the hardened hunter could do was watch in awe. It was utterly gorgeous. Dean knew fully well what birds with abilities over fire were, and that they were dangerous and powerful and should be killed, like any other monster. But this bird… this Phoenix… meant him no harm.

It settled on a branch, folding it's wings and looking longingly at Dean, tilting it's head curiously at him. Walking slowly towards it, Dean extended a hand, the firebird reaching it's neck out to meet his touch, almost purring at the contact. It's feathers were the softest things he'd ever felt in his entire life. He stroked it's head, it's big eyes closing on contact. As it cooed, Dean smiled. He had met very few creatures in his life that never wanted to hurt anyone, and he felt a connection to the bird.

But the sweet moment was cut short as the bird suddenly looked up and around alertly, it's squawk sounding more like a singing note than a bird chirp. Dean looked around, watching as two groups of seemingly humans came from either side of the grove, one group bearing dark eyes and demon horns, the others bearing halos and wings. Both stared daggers at Dean, moving closer towards him and the phoenix. Demons held weapons and the angels wielded blades, stalking towards Dean with menacing expressions. It wouldn't be the first time Dean had been approached by angels or demons with the intent to kill him. Dean stood back against the branch, extending his arms out almost with the intent of protecting the phoenix. From behind him, the phoenix's feathers rose, and it's eyes grew slited as it spread it's large wings out. The angels and demons gave a shocked expression, both backing away as the wings began to fire up. The phoenix released a powerful song chord, the impact of the noise sending the other monsters off their feet. Dean hadn't seen anything like it. He turned to watch the bird take flight again, soaring around the trees, blasting fire at the demons and light at the angels, harming both. The bird flew back towards Dean, extending it's talons as it gripped him gently by the shoulders and took flight with him, the last thing Dean seeing were the intense purple eyes of the Phoenix who had saved him.

The older Winchester woke with a start, taking a moment to process what had just happened was a dream, a very intense one at that. He turned to see Sam still snoozing away, his bulked but lanky body spread across the bed in a very comedic position. Smirking, Dean looked at his watch, the time after noon. He huffed, cursing himself for sleeping in so much. But the job the night before had been difficult. Maybe he deserved a good rest. Standing up and dressing, he walked over to lightly smack Sam's cheek, who woke so violently that he fell off the bed.

"Rise and shine princess, we're back on the road." Said Dean as he packed up their stuff, whilst Sam sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

"I might've slept better if you didn't talk so much last night, jerk." Replied Sam.

"Bitch, I don't talk in my sleep."

"You did last night."

"What did I talk about?"

"You mumbled something about a Phoenix, how it saved you from an army of angels and an army of demons coming after you." Said Sam as he redressed and shoved his own things into his duffel.

"Weird. It was an interesting dream though." Was all Dean would say as he hauled his things out to the Impala, Sam following shortly thereafter.

Later on, Sam asked Dean about the dream, and Dean gave a surprisingly descriptive retelling of said dream, never really having had such vivid or memorable reveries before. Sam listened in silence, thinking as Dean described. Dean never talked in his sleep, which was why the younger brother had spent most of the night worrying about Dean when he had woken up to hear his brother murmuring in his slumber.

"Think it could be a vision?"

"I thought that was your freaky power, Sammy."

"Dean, think about it. You've seen some shit, and you've never dreamed about them before. Now all of a sudden you have this vivid dream that involves monsters trying to kill you and then you're rescued by one? Sounds like a prophecy to me, dude."

Dean just shrugged, not really wanting to think much of it. He didn't like the idea of having this psychic power like his brother, it just meant more trouble. But who knew? It could just be a dream. But a secret part of him believed Sam, or at least wanted to. What if it was a premonition he needed to be prepare for?

So many unanswered questions. He didn't want to think about them.

"I'll tell you what, Sammy. I'm finding the best shot of whiskey I can get my hands on when we reach Chicago. Clearly I'm too sober for this."