Chapter 52.
At first, Dean's dreams were fragmentary, but harmless. There was a little bit of hunting with Sam, a memory of a drive with his mother, a cute scene where Cas and Jules were having a picnic beside a river.
Then, the familiar smell of a classroom. The cedar scent of pencil shavings, the earthy smell of teenage sweat, the mingling of deodorant and hairspray and the tobacco and regret on the egg-stained clothes of the teacher about to challenge him.
"Dean!" said Mr Quigley, "I think we need to talk about your attitude."
"What attitude?" said Dean.
"I know you think this devil may care, budget James Dean stuff will get you through life, but it won't. What might get you through life would be Pythagorus and Euclid."
"Yeah, every day, I need to measure triangles." said Dean, offended by the word "budget". A pretty girl smiled her approval and he smiled back.
"You think you're cute." said Mr Quigley.
"You wanna take a vote on that?" said Dean, playing to his audience.
Mr Quigley moved so he blocked Dean's view of the girl. Dean vaguely remembered that her name had been Kiera. Quigley loomed over him. "There are people in this school who will succeed in life, Dean and there are people who will fail."
"And then there are people who will fail so big they'll end up as a 47 year old divorced math teacher with egg on his tie and a son he sees every other weekend." said Dean, hearing a quiet ripple of nervous laughter from his fellow students.
Quigley ignored him, though his eyes showed that every barb had wounded him. "You, Dean Winchester, are choosing to fail. You're not incapable of understanding the work, you just choose not to do it."
"A week from now, I won't even be here." said Dean.
"Yeah, I know. You've got a messed up, ex-soldier father ,.. "
"Ex-marine." said Dean.
"You've got a tragic back story and a cool car and you think you're too good for our little school."
"Oh, I know I'm too good for your school." said Dean.
"Funny that your brother studies hard with all the same excuses you have not to."
"Good for Sammy. I'll bet his locker is covered with gold stars."
"He'll make something of himself." said Quigley.
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't wanna be what you're trying to make me."
"You're just a coward." said Quigley.
Suddenly, there were people gathered around the desk, not people from the remembered scene, but people he had failed.
"A hunter doesn't need to be academic. He just needs to do the job." said his father, but that was the last supportive thing any of the growing crowd said.
"You let Gadreel kill my son." said Linda Tran.
"Why didn't you protect me?" said Charlie.
"We were family!" said Ben, "But you ran away from us!"
"You chose all of this!" said Quigley, breaking free of the memory to hurl original accusations at him, "You chose to be a coward."
"You can't protect me." said Jack, "You can't protect any of us. When Michael comes, we'll all die. Castiel and Sam will die."
"No." said Dean.
Lucifer grinned at him. "Remind me, Dean, how many of the people you promised to protect are dead now? How many of them died in front of you?"
Dean tried to stand, but Quigley pushed him back into the seat. "You always choose the easiest way for you."
"Really?" said Dean, "Because none of it was ever easy for me."
"We deserved better." said Ellen.
"We died for nothing." said Jo.
"I'm sorry." said Dean, as he did in countless dreams.
"Fat lot of good sorry does." said Ellen.
"Dean, this isn't real." said Cas.
Dean looked around. Cas was standing at the back of the classroom. "It's real." said Dean, "I let them all down."
Cas walked over to him, each of the accusers dissipating as he touched them. Then he put his hand on Dean's shoulder and for a moment, Dean thought he too would disappear. It was an appealing prospect.
"This is a dream." said Cas firmly, "And you need to wake up. You've been through enough tonight."
"What happened to dreams being important?" said Dean.
"They are, but this one isn't. You're just torturing yourself with guilt."
"Or facing the consequences of all my mistakes." said Dean.
"You think any of those people blame you? You think any of them want you to suffer?"
"I blame me." said Dean.
"Believe me, I'm aware." said Cas.
"How are you here?" said Dean.
"Maybe part of your mind brought me in to argue with those parts that hate you."
"If you've taken off the talismans to come in here and ... "
"Dean!" said Cas's voice, somewhere out in the real world.
Dean woke. Cas was standing over his bed. The talisman still hung from his neck. Dean felt for his own and found it. "You were in my dream." he said.
"That's disturbing, given the way you were thrashing about. What was I doing to you?"
"Defending me." said Dean.
"Good." said Cas.
"For a moment, I thought ... "
"What?" said Cas.
"Doesn't matter. My head is a weird place."
"I have to concur." said Cas, "Now, I really think you should let me give you a dreamless sleep. You need rest. You do not need to put yourself through any more suffering." He raised his hand.
Dean caught his wrist. "Cas, this feels like something a coward would do."
"Only to someone who wants to see himself that way." said Cas, "It's just one night ... only a few hours now ... of actual rest."
"The bad stuff never goes away." said Dean, letting go of his wrist, "You're just delaying it."
"Delaying the bad stuff pretty much sums up my whole life." said Cas, "Just let me grant you a few hours of peace. You deserve that. I deserve that."
Dean nodded and the last thing he was aware of was a light touch on his forehead.
