"[The hallucination of Cara] felt so real, Dean."

"I know, Lennox. I know."

Lennox POV

I was sitting in the living room reading. Dean was fixing his car. Sam was doing research. And Bobby was getting groceries. So, all in all, it was boring.

Then he showed up. Sitting next to me on the couch. Looking over my shoulder. Staring at my book.

"Whatcha reading?" he asked.

Silence.

"Oh, come on. I know you want to talk to me."

Ignoring.

"Lennox, darling, do you want to know why you can see me?"

I looked at him but didn't respond.

"Because your special. Do you know why you're special?"

I shook my head no.

"You have this thing called grace. It's what makes an angel an angel. But you are a fallen angel, and your grace is floating around the world somewhere and those memories, those nightmares, those hallucinations, are ways of you coping with the loss of yourself. Make sense?" He explains.

"No, it doesn't make sense," I say to him. "You know why? Because I'm not an angel. I'm a normal human being, with a seriously messed up head. I maybe crazy, but not crazy enough to believe that."

"Wow you're smart. True. You aren't an angel. You are something more powerful." He says before disappearing.

I look down at my hands.

More powerful? How could I be something more powerful, when in truth, I just wanted to be normal.

A definition for powerful is "having control and influence over people and events," and "having a strong effect on people's feelings or thoughts."

I barely have control over my life, let alone others people's. And my thoughts are mostly horrific and mean about myself so how am I supposed to have an effect on other peoples?

I sat staring at the blank wall, thinking blank thoughts. I didn't notice when Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, looking at me.

"Hey, Len. Whatcha doing?" Dean asked.

I looked over at him silently before turning back to the wall. Dean called my name again and when I looked over at him, his face was melting.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and flew off the couch. I backed myself underneath Bobby's desk and sobbed. I cried into my hands and shook. Dean came flying around the desk and his face was back to normal. I touched his cheek to make sure he was real.

He placed his hand over mine, and held on tightly.

"Focus on me Len, I'm real. This. Right here, right now, is real." I nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No"

"It may help…"

"No"

"Are you sure? We can talk about it over pie?" I chuckled but continued persistently with my answer. "Well, I'm going to get the pie anyways and eat it. Do you want some?"

I nodded.

While Dean was gone, I thought about Death. Not killing myself, but more like contemplating what happens after you die.

In Christianity, they believe in Heaven. Heaven is defined as "a place regarded in various religions as the abode of God (or the gods) and the angels, and of the good after death, often traditionally depicted as being above the sky."

That's not what it is to me. It's above the sky and there are angels, but to me, Heaven is, will be, peace, I will be able to escape the troubles that plague me, the hallucinations that control me, the pain I constantly feel in my chest.

Heaven will be the place with Scott and Cara. Heaven will be the place with my parents, grandparents, family. Heaven will home. Heaven will be bright and pretty, and never sad, never hurtful, never boring, like this Earth tends to be.

To me, Earth is a cage. Where we, the wild animals, roam and are confined too until further notice. Earth is painful. Earth is hard and cold and mean and cruel.

Heaven will be calm.

"Here's you slice," Dean said pulling me out of my trance.

I nodded my head and went back to imaging a life without these hallucinations.