Beep, beep, beep

Dean woke up once again to the sound of beeping, but this beeping was much softer and steadier than the beep of either the alarm clock or the the fire alarm. This beep was low and calm. Dean pried his eyes open to try and locate the source of the beeping.

His eyes were met with immediate resistance from some blinding light above him. He cringed as he tried to get a steady enough focus to adjust to the light.

"Dean? Oh, Dean." Dean heard the familiar ring of his mother's voice, which sounded incredibly relieved. "You're awake, baby. I was so worried." She sounded genuine too as her hand came to tenderly stroke Dean's face.

Dean managed to open his eyes, immediately turning them away from the bright light in the ceiling and towards his mother.

There were dried tears on her face, and her eyes seemed glazed over as if threatening to spill tears again. There was a soft smile on her face that was really purely from relief and love for her son. "Thank God you're okay." She stroked his face as if it were the softest thing she had ever touched.

"When - How did I get here?" Dean mumbled as his eyes locked onto his mother's, searching her gaze for answers.

She shook her head as she withdrew her hand and leaned against the bed, elbows pressed to the mattress and her face cupped in her hands. "The Firefighters found you passed out by a tree. It was a good thing that you were able to carry you and Lisa out of there, otherwise…" A distantly sad look overtook his mother's eyes, but it slowly disappeared when she moved on from the subject. "I'm just glad you're okay." She finished with a sincere smile.

Dean's face scrunched up in confusion. "But… I didn't save Lisa. Someone carried us both out." Dean responded with confusion clear in his voice. He remembered the man who had carried him out. It was a vague memory, but he knew it had to be real. How else could he have gotten out of that building?

Dean's mother did not seem to be any less confused than Dean. "Honey, there was no one else. The firefighters took you to an ambulance. Maybe that's what you're thinking of." She rationalized while keeping her gentle tone.

Dean shook his head. "That wasn't it. A man took me out of the fire. I was going to die, but he saved me." Dean insisted, still sounding uncertain of himself.

His mother's lip twitched as the corner of her mouth began to sag down into a frown. "Dean, Lisa remembers you carrying her out and putting her down by the tree. She said you passed out right after that. Are you feeling okay, honey? Maybe I should call the nurse." Her voice was tinged with concern and a hint of fear as she spoke, her body slowly shifting towards the call button about a foot away at the nightstand.

Dean thought about it for a moment. That seemed to go against everything he remembered. He remembered passing out inside the school. He remembered being carried, and he remembered the man standing over him. "Maybe I dreamed the whole thing? Or hallucinated?" He wondered out loud. It seemed too vivid to be a dream. He remembered the man. He remembered his thoughts right before he died. He remembered the bright light that accompanied the man.

Those were hard things to just imagine. It didn't make sense. Something else has to be going on here…

The concern was still etched on Mary's face as she watched her son mentally work over the possible causes for his confusion. "I should get the nurse. Maybe she can help." She suggested, forcing positivity into her voice.

"Yeah. I guess." Dean complied unenthusiastically. He was not sure that a nurse could help. The nurse was not there. The nurse did not see it happen and would not be able to answer his question, but he did not want to further worry his mother.

Mary accepted that as a decent answer as she reached over to the table to press the button and ring for the nurse, who said she would be there momentarily. Mary then stood to leave. "I'll let you have your privacy. Dad and Sam will be here soon." There was some sort of masked hurt expression on her face that worried Dean.

"Thanks, Mom, but…" Dean hesitated. Whatever was bothering his mother was obviously not something she wanted to tell him, and maybe that was for the best, but he still wanted to be there for her. "Is everything okay?" He asked quietly.

Mary stiffened a little bit in her place before she managed to relax her body again. "Everything's fine now that I know you're okay. I guess angels were watching over you after all."

That was the truth, but it was not all of it. Dean could only guess that it had something to do with the fact that John was no anywhere to be seen yet, and he knew better than to question her about that. "Thanks, Mom." Dean responded sweetly, trying to mask his growing concern.

Mary gave him a warm smile before leaving the room, and Dean found himself alone for a moment, but all he could think about was that weird man with the trenchcoat and the mad bedhead. He could remember the piercing light and the bright blue eyes. Those eyes didn't even look human. He had never met anyone else who had glowing eyes. Perhaps it was a dream or a hallucination. How could that be real anyway?

Dean was interrupted from his thought process as a nurse came into the room without even the smallest of knocks. She startled him so much that he ended up staring at her when she entered. She was a pretty blonde, but she had this obnoxiously fake smile on her face that almost made Dean wish he was still unconscious.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" She asked in a slight New Jersey accent.

"Uh… I'm fine for someone who just came from a fire." Dean remarked with slight sarcasm to his tone.

She giggled at him, but it was this shrill high pitched giggle that seemed unnatural. "You're a cutie." She spoke like she was twenty years older than him, even though she appeared to only be in her late twenties.

"Don't I know it." Dean replied with a smug lift of his eyebrow.

That only caused the nurse to let out another obnoxious giggle. "Honestly though. There had to be something you needed other than some company." The nurse replied.

Dean shrugged. He didn't want to mention what he saw to her. She would not be of any help. She had not even been there. "I think I just need to sleep." Dean replied nonchalantly.

"Alright. I'll get you some sleeping aids." The nurse agreed as she rifled through a nearby cabinet. "Goodnight, hun." She spoke casually as she found the sleeping aid and gave it to Dean without a moment's hesitation before leaving him alone in the room.

It was not real. It couldn't be. Maybe Mom misunderstood Lisa. I'll talk to her when I wake up and see what she knows. Dean decided as a yawn escaped his lips and sleep overtook his dreary body.

Dean woke up some time later that day to find that John and Sam had joined Mary in his room. Sam was napping in a chair in the corner, and John and Mary were intensely whispering to each other not far from him.

Dean began to stir as he forced his body upwards into a sitting position, his eyes still closed because of that annoying light.

The muttering stopped as soon as one of the arguing parents - probably Mary - realized that Dean had regained consciousness.

"Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?" Mary gently inquired, her face soft with sympathy.

Dean's eyes focused on his family sitting across the room, avoiding that gaudy light. Mary looked exhausted, and apparently, so was Sam, seeing as the kid was out like a light and snoring like an old lawnmower. "I'm fine." He groggily mumbled in response. "I feel better after that nap."

Something about that statement must have been amusing because John snorted in response, causing Dean to quirk an eyebrow.

"What?" Dean asked, purely confused.

"I thought you were going to sleep the day away, boy. You've been 'napping' for hours now, practically the whole day." John replied, clearly amused.

"Oh." Was the only word that escaped Dean's lips.

Mary gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, honey. I was just telling John how you needed your sleep if you were going to heal correctly." She shot John a miniscule glare that was almost not worth of the glare label. It was more of a stern look that was meant to remind John of something, presumably the conversation they had been having before Dean woke up.

"I think he's going to need more than just sleep, Mary." John muttered back as his eyes focused on Dean, which gave Dean an uneasy feeling.

Dean had not seen himself in a mirror yet. He didn't know what he looked like. It can't be that bad, right? I couldn't have been in that fire for too long. I feel fine, so it really shouldn't be too bad. "Why?" Dean asked quizzically.

"Just a few burns is all." Mary assured him almost urgently. There was some bizarre sense of worry hidden in her voice that made Dean question what she was hiding.

"A few burns that practically cover his whole body." John huffed, his arms folded against his chest and one leg resting on top of the other as he slouched back in his chair.

Mary shot him another glare. This one was definitely a glare in itself. It was stronger and firmer than the last one as if she was trying to silence him with one look. "They're not that bad." She insisted.

John rolled his eyes in response. "Alright. Fine." He glanced back at her, his eyes almost begrudgingly soft. It was like they were silently saying 'You win. Whatever makes you happy.'

Dean eyed them suspiciously. He wanted to see the burns for himself now. Mary was an optimist and John was a pessimist, so he could not really trust the judgement of either of them if he wanted an honest answer. "I think I'll go to the bathroom. Too much sleeping kind of fills up a bladder I guess." He joked as he slid his lower half out of bed, finding that it felt onerously heavy like it was made out of lead.

His parents watched him with concern etched onto their features, which John did a better job at hiding.

Dean forced himself onto his feet, finding himself to be a little bit unstable at first. He nearly fell over, but it only took him a few seconds to regain his balance. That's probably an after affect of the smoke. He tested out his legs. They seemed to be working just fine, the only problem with them being the slight burning sensation that ran up his left leg whenever he applied pressure to it, but he knew he could live with that. It could have been worse.

He didn't want to further worry his parents, so he decided to get a better look at the extent of his injuries once he was in the bathroom. He left them alone to commence whispering again as he headed towards the connected bathroom.

He gave the door behind him a gentle closing push as he turned to the nearest mirror. His face only had a few burns marks and scratches. There was a burn mark that went from right underneath his right ear and headed towards his nose and another one coming out of the corner of his mouth and heading towards his left jawline. He had a thin scratch right above his left eyebrow and some smaller ones scattered about his face, but there was nothing terribly big or offsetting about his face. Those would all heal with time. They were not nearly as bad as Dean knew burns could be.

Slowly, he pulled of the hospital gown they had put in him, which he thought was really creepy. Who strips a person down just to dress them in oversized grandma dresses? Hospital people are weird.

He had looked at himself earlier that morning before he went to school, and there he was again, checking his appearance in a mirror, this time for different reasons. He was not in bad shape considering the conditions. The largest scar he had ran across his chest, but even that one was not that large. The weirdest scar he had was definitely the one on his shoulder.

There was this strange pinkish handprint marking on his shoulder. What in the actual hell is that? He glared at his reflection in the mirror, as if demanding that his reflection explain itself. How did that even get there? And what does that even mean?

It would appear that Dean's trip to the bathroom only left him with more questions than it did answers, which made him want to moan in frustration. I didn't ask for any of this. Why can't things just be normal?

It was at this moment that he remembered that he had intended to go and see Lisa. Hopefully she can clarify things. He slid back into his unfashionable with gown with blue polka dots before leaving the bathroom.

Mary and John both ceased whatever conversation they were having when he reentered the room and looked up at him expectantly.

"I'm… uh… going to go see Lisa." Dean explained as he began to creep towards the door that led to the hallway.

Mary nodded. "She's in room 432." She supplied the number kindly. She knew why Dean wanted to see her. Perhaps she did not know the specifics, but she knew that Dean would want some answers, and she assumed that he wanted to check on her too.

"Thanks." Dean muttered out his thanks before practically dashing for the door. He knew that his parents would just continue on with whatever conversation they were having, so he might as well give them privacy and get answers at the same time.

He wandered down the long, bustling hallways of the hospital, receiving a few smiles as he went along. It turned out that Lisa's room was not too far from his own. It was only a few twists and turns of the spiraling hallways before Dean ended up at the hospital room 432.

He stood outside the door for a moment, wondering if he really wanted to go in. Sure, he wanted answers, but he also felt like it was a waste of time. His mother had said that Lisa thought Dean carried her out, so she was probably just another source to go against what he thought had occurred. Eventually, he decided that he might as well try and gave the door a hesitant knock.

He was greeted by the soft sound of Lisa's voice. It sounded much different when she was not screaming for help. She sounded quieter and calmer, which made sense considering the conditions upon which he had last heard her speak. "Who is it?" She cautiously inquired.

"It's Dean." He responded without any hesitation.

"Come in." Was the immediate response that he got.

He pried the door open to see Lisa sitting up her hospital bed in the same ugly hospital gown as he had on. She didn't seem too bad off. All of her injuries were very minor, but she did appear much paler than before. Her previously warm tan complexion was worn down to a pasty white as she sat in that hospital bed staring up at Dean with large brown eyes. "I was wondering when you'd come." She sounded relieved and almost flirtatious as she spoke.

Dean gave her a wide grin in response. "I couldn't really keep away, could I?" He flirted back naturally. That was not what he came for, and he knew it. It was just his instinct.

She smiled softly in response. "I don't mind." She bit her lower lip playfully as she glanced up Dean with sparkling eyes.

"I don't either." He replied with an automatic wink. "But I actually came to talk to you about what happened." He reminded himself and the girl in front of him of his real reason for being there.

She nodded her head slowly. "I knew you wanted something like that. I do have to thank you though." When Dean did not seem to understand what she was trying to say, she clarified with "for saving me."

"Right. About that…" Dean began as if he was explaining some sort of lie he had been telling. "I don't think I did. Don't you remember? There was this man who carried us out. I passed out inside." And I thought you did too… He did not want to accuse her out loud. Perhaps she had woken up. That seemed like a logical explanation.

Lisa looked at him like he had grown a second head. "I remember. You carried me out and placed me by the tree." She reminded him slowly as if she were talking to a child. "You passed out when we were at the tree. There was no man there."

Dean closed his eyes for a minute. Maybe he's not real then. Maybe I just imagined it. But still… It doesn't seem right. It just doesn't sit well with me. "Right. You're right. Of course. I think my mind was just messing with me for a bit. It must have been the smoke." He agreed with her. Arguing was not going to get him anywhere. Lisa seemed certain about what she had seen and telling her otherwise would just make her think he was insane.

"Are you okay? You seem… off." She commented with a common courtesy sense of concern in her tone.

"Yeah. It's just the smoke. I just need some sleep is all." He replied with a shrug, pretending like the total rejection of the man he saw was not beginning to gnaw away at the back of his mind.

She gave him a hesitant, non believing nod. "Go get some sleep then, and thanks again for saving me."

"It was nothing." He spoke the truth as he headed towards the door. He really did not remember saving her, and that meant that it probably was nothing. He went out the door without another word, his mind brewing with frustration.

He was so focused on his internal dilemma that he did not notice the roof cave in above him. He felt a body crash onto him as he flew across the hallway in a flash. He landed about ten feet away from the site of the cave in and found himself staring at the sudden crashing of the building in disbelief.

There was a repair guy amongst the pile of rubble and he had a running chainsaw in hand. He seemed confused as he looked around, not understanding that he had broken through the hospital roof. They were on the top floor after all.

People rushed in to repair the mess, but all Dean could do was stare at the spot he had previously been in. If he had still been there, he would have been crushed by the roof and then cut by the chainsaw. He would have surely been dead if it hadn't been for… Who was that that saved me anyway?

He turned his gaze up to the man who had just saved his life to see that it was the same man from before. His oversized trench coat was covered in rubble and his hair was even more disheveled. His eyes were no longer glowing, but that did not stop them from being captivating. They were a bright, shimmering blue that were now staring widely at Dean.

The man was so close to Dean that he could just feel his warmth, and he had to admit it felt good for some reason. It was not like cuddling with a love interest. It was like being close to his mother. It felt safe and secure.

The blue eyed man heaved himself onto his feet and backed away again. He seemed to curse himself under his breath once he was able to make out what just happened.

"It's you." Dean would have shouted, but his breath had been taken away from the sudden impact of the man's body.

The man shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at Dean and then at the other people who were mostly too distracted by the rubble to pay him any attention. "My apologies, Dean. It would appear that I've aggravated them…" The blue eyed man looked upwards as he spoke.

"What? Aggravated who? How do you know my name? Who are you?" Dean blurted out random questions frantically in a desperate hope that he could get the answers he had left his room in search of.

The man took a deep breath. "It is not my job to answer the questions of humans." He replied steadily. "I shouldn't even be here." He muttered before vanishing in a sudden flutter of what sounded almost like… wings?

"Wait! You don't get to leave until you've answered my questions!" Dean yelled at the empty space across from him. Just as soon as he had come, the mysterious man was gone again, and he only left Dean with more questions rather than answers.

He leaned his head back against the wall. "When did I sign up for this?" He groaned.

It took him a few moments, but eventually he collected himself enough to leave and stood up to do so when something caught his eye.

There was a lone black feather in place of the blue eyed man. It was large feather unlike any Dean had ever seen before, and upon picking it up he found that it was softer than any feather he had felt before too. What is this? I don't think it was here before…

Dean mentally groaned. Great. More questions with no answers. He sighed as he pocketed the feather, which would be impossible for normal pants pockets, but luckily enough the fashion disaster of a gown had extremely large pockets that could allow one to smuggle in a puppy. Dean went back to his hospital room with less clarity than when he left, his mind racing with thoughts of the blue eyed man.