AN: Alright, so I decided to expand, there'll probably be more but I still don't know. Tell me what you think please.


"You ignored it." A pause, "You shut it down. They got tired of waiting for you, so they made him see." She sighed, "Only, he wasn't made to see. Ever wonder why he gets headaches, when they never happened to you?"

"He's not used-"

"No, he isn't. You were born with this. He wasn't."

She saw what her word were doing. It just had to be done. For the safety of both of them. "It's hurting him." The man's head lowered, hiding his face from her.

"I said the same thing to him," he whispered. Not too long ago either. Had to have been three months now. Sam had been right, things got better for a time, but a whole lot worse soon enough. Of all the ways for Sam to be right, it was this one.

Things were not alright, and they weren't going to be.

"They could be." Dean's head snapped up, catching her eyes. He forgot what she could do. "You don't have to be on guard every moment of your life, dear. He's not going to go wander off and get mauled by a bear. Neither are you."

"I'm not worried about bears."

"No." She nodded, "Things suck- I think those are your words too- but they can be fixed, if you let them." Dean's eyes closed, contemplating his future, Sam's future. She cocked her head to the side listening to the unheard moments, frown capturing her face. That's how he ignored. The why was there, and now she had the how. The poor boy didn't sleep.

Visions acquainted slowly through dreams, allowing the receiver to understand how things worked, until there was no difference between wakefulness and sleep. She had been similar.

No acquaintance had been made between Dean the visions since he hesitated at the handshake. He sat in the living room while a visitor stood outside, ringing the doorbell. Both knew each party was there, with no contact made. A handshake could still happen between the two parties. It had been too many years, but still, she knew, the relationship would grow as fast as a weed. Not that it was as inheritably bad as a weed, just had the growing attribute.

"You need to let them in, meet them." A ripple crossed Dean's face, something she recognized. He didn't respond; she heard him all the same. Which is why she used the necessary weapon against him. "It could help Sam."

She might have smiled, wanting to not rub in her victory. With Sam, there lied a hope, a bribe really, in getting Dean to what needed to be done.

"You are sick, you know that?"

She shrugged.

"Some say grave digging and robbing is sick."

She would have danced, he was a stubborn bastard, but he wasn't saying no to her idea. Wasn't saying yes either, but wasn't saying no. There should have been cake.

"This is why I hate psychics." Gesturing toward his head, "You play with things up here."

"Well, guess what, darling, then you must really hate yourself."

He stayed silent after that.