Dean's dreams were all over the place. Flipping from one scene to another. They all featured his father. He dreamed of him teaching them how to shoot. There was that time dad caught him messing with one of the guns. Dad had gone off to the grocery store to get some food. They were squatting in some old house outside of town. He got into Dad's duffel bag and pulled out the shotgun. He had sawed off the end himself, under Dad's watchful eye. He was out behind the house shooting salt rounds at the targets they had been aiming at the night before. He was so sure he'd hear the car pull in that he was shocked when he felt the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing, Dean?"

"Um, just practicing. So I can be as good as you."

"Give me the gun." He held out his hand. Dean bowed his head and placed the gun in his father's hand. "I'm disappointed in you son. You know the rules."

"I know. No shooting unless you or Uncle Bobby is there with us."

"Then why did you do this?"

"I'm twelve now! I know everything about that gun there is to know! You taught me!"

"You are still a child. Even then, accidents happen. Who would have helped you out if something had happened and I wasn't here? Sam?" John looked around. "Where is your brother, Dean?"

"In the tree." Dean pointed to a large tree at the back corner of the yard. He looked up at his father and saw that little tendon twitching in his jaw. Never a good sign.

"Take this inside and I want you to clean it thoroughly. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"When you're done, I want you to clean every other weapon we have."

"Every one?! But that'll take-"

"Are you questioning me, son?"

Dean looked down at this sneakers. "No sir."

"Then go."

The dream flipped to a time, one of many, that Dad had caught him after he had snuck out. He had given him shit about leaving Sam alone. That it was his job to look after his little brother when he wasn't around.

It then flipped to a time he had taken the Impala out for a spin. It was shortly after he had gotten his license. He really caught shit for that one. Then his dreams flipped to the time that shtriga had almost gotten Sammy in his bed. That was probably the worst one.

Dean had done nothing his entire life but try to make his father proud of him. Replaying all the countless times he had let him down wasn't encouraging. He roused a bit out of his dreams, enough to realize he was too warm.

He turned on his side to throw off the blanket and fell off the couch. He woke up confused. The couch he had been lying on sat across from two arm chairs. Athena and Jed occupied them at the moment. Jed had his eyes on him, where Athena was staring at the flickering flames in a fireplace.

Dean dragged himself off the floor and back to the couch. "Can't a guy get any sleep around here?" Athena remained focused on the fire. Dean nodded at Jed. "Jed. Good to see you." Jed nodded back in acknowledgment.

"Tell me about your father." Athena finally spoke.

"Oh, hell no. No. I'm not doing this! Why don't you give me more info on this Tanya you're looking for, that you seem to think I know something about. Or let me go and I'll see what I can dig up for you."

Athena chuckled. "Sam is doing the research. Was your father abusive?"

Dean bit back the angry retort that danced on the tip of his tongue. Not going to play this game! "What are you getting out of this? Seriously. Why keep asking about past girlfriends or my father, who's been gone for four years now?"

Athena studied him for a moment. "Let me give you an honest answer so that you can see how easy it is to just talk." She thought for a moment. "Three reasons, I guess. First, because I can. I have the ability to enter into the unconscious mind. So why not play around while I'm there?" Dean shook his head at the audacity of it all.

"Second. It's entertaining." Dean rolled his eyes at that. "Yes, Dean? You have something to add?"

"Yeah. Why do you god-types think mortals are just playthings for you, huh?"

This time Athena rolled her eyes. "Please refer back to reason number one." Dean clenched his jaw and glared at her. "As I was saying. Entertaining. Mortal man is a singular concept, but you all vary so greatly from one another! It's fascinating! It's fun to see how far you can go before you break. It's different every time." She was warming up to her subject now. "For example, I had a gentleman visit just last week. He didn't want to talk either, but no sooner had we gotten him strung up by his wrists and he couldn't stop talking. He gave me his whole life story! Every sordid detail! But you! You took it all the way to the hot poker and beyond! Faced now with another simple conversation, and you're still belligerent! Not only does that show me that it'll take quite a bit to break you, but that it'll be quite the ride as well!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm not some freaking experiment! Alright?!"

"See?" She actually clapped her hands together excitedly.

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and shook his head. "I'm no stranger to physical pain, you know."

"Ahh, but you are fairly new to emotional trauma."

"The hell I am!"

"You misunderstand. Yes, you've experienced more physical pain and emotional trauma than pretty much anyone would ever experience in an entire lifetime. But, you take the emotional half and stuff it down and refuse to deal with it. That makes you a unique and special find, Mr. Winchester. I can't wait to get at you!"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't win with her. "So, what's the third reason?" He was sure he didn't really want to hear it.

"Three. Because when I'm in your heads, all those emotions give me a buzz."

"A buzz. Like an alcohol buzz?"

"Alcohol. Drugs. Sure. And with your repressed emotions, you're like high-end crack."

"Awesome. So you're a spoiled junkie." Athena didn't respond and when Dean looked at her, she was glaring at him. Nice to know he could ruffle her feathers. Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know I could just get really pissed off right now for ya. Spare all the middle ground."

"You don't understand. Fresh emotions are flat. But the emotions that come from memory? They are something special. Take the grape, for example. You squeeze some grapes, what do you get?"

Dean waited until he realized she actually expected him to answer. "Juice."

"Yes, you squeeze grapes you get grape juice. But!... You let the juice sit around for awhile, let it stew and marinate and it becomes something else! Something richer, purer, better!"

"Uh huh." Crazy bitch.

"Did daddy hit you?" Dean just returned her glare. "Dean?"

Dean got up and walked into the dark behind the couch. He didn't go far, as he couldn't see squat, but far enough to be hidden from her view.

"Dean? Did father dearest hit you?"

Dean turned back toward the glow of the fireplace. "Not answering! Not gonna feed your sick habit!"

"Dean, you can't hide from your emotions and you certainly can't hide from me." Even though he knew he was hidden in shadow, it looked like Athena was looking right at him. He turned away, again, trying to stem his anger.

"Jed." As soon as the word left her mouth, Dean thought he felt a shift in the air behind him. He turned and dropped into a fighting stance. Or, at least, that was the plan. He didn't get that far. As soon as he turned around, Jed had him by the throat.

"Jed, don't do this. Fight her." Dean wheezed out. Jed's grip was like a vice. He turned and started walking Dean backwards toward Athena.

"I am sorry, Dean Winchester." Dean winced at the words in his head. He was thrust down into Jed's now empty armchair.

"Answer the question, Dean."

"No, damn it! No! He never laid a hand on us! Now enough! Just... pop me back to my room. I'm not playing anymore."

Athena laughed. It was creepy as hell and sent chills down Dean's spine. The bitch was batshit crazy. "What makes you think you ever left your room?"

Dean looked around confused. "I woke up on the couch..."

"I can weave your dreams into a many-layered world within your head. You could wake up a dozen times in your dreams and still be sleeping." She let out another creepy laugh. "You probably thought you were awake when you laid down on your bed, earlier, to go to sleep!"

Dean's frown grew deeper. How was he going to beat this if he couldn't even figure out when he was awake or not? He looked back up at Athena and she winked at him. There was a flash and Dean was standing in an alleyway. His phone buzzed in his pocket and when he pulled it out, there was a text from his dad: 'Where the hell are you?'.

Flash

His father stood, towering over him. "How many times do I have to tell you, Dean?" He could feel the shame rolling over him.

Flash

"Where's Sam? You were supposed to be watching him!"

Flash

His father's voice behind him. "Dean! Back away! What have I told you?"

Flash

Dean was quietly sneaking back into the motel room only to find his father, returned a day early, waiting for him. "Where he hell have you been? You can't leave your seven year old brother here alone like this!"

The guilt and shame grew with each passing scene. They played like a blooper reel of his life except it was anything but funny.

He found himself suddenly back in the armchair by the fireplace. He was panting like he'd been running a marathon.

"Oh my. You were a bad boy weren't you?"

"Screw you! I was the good son! Sammy was the one that took off!"

"Oh? What's this?"

Dean dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his forehead, and mumbled a 'shit'. "It's nothing."

"Hmm. We'll visit your relationship with your brother later, once we've thoroughly dealt with all your daddy issues."

Dean lost it. He growled with rage and launched himself at her. He distinctly remembered her smiling at him just before yet another flash of light.

Dean was on his knees and his head was being forced under water. He fought and struggled, but his hands were bound behind his back. When he was finally let up, he spit out water, coughed, and gasped for air.

"By the gods, you are thrilling, Dean!"

Dean looked up at Athena, who's eyes fluttered back into her head in ecstasy. "Fuck you, bitch."