2 am

It's only been three weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. There are nights when I just lay awake, looking at the ceiling. Those are the nights that I prefer. When I'm not laying awake, I'm sleeping. And when I'm sleeping, I'm dreaming. Actually, dreaming is putting it lightly. I've had nothing but nightmares since that night; and they're always the same. They're always haunted by the images of Dean twisting and contorting on the floor, being ripped apart by something that I can't see.

I feel the tears welling up again, promising to overflow, so I tear myself away from the memory and force it back into its cage. After I'm certain that the tears won't fall, I look at the clock. It's 1:55. I don't have a lot of time. I get up from my chair and move over to the window. I peel back the curtain and am certain that I'm losing my mind. There's a thick layer of snow covering the ground, and there are more thick, white flakes falling by the second.

Another memory fights its way, unwanted, to the front of my mind. Dean and I are standing outside in the snow, my eye black and my nose bloody; I can't be any older than seventeen. He's holding me, trying to console me after my drunken father has taken out all of his aggression on me. He pulls away and looks me dead in the eye. He promises that things are gonna be okay and he brushes snowflakes out of my hair. Then he freezes and just kinda stares at me, like he's trying to take inventory of everything on my face. I see confusion behind his eyes, but it doesn't show on his face. He starts moving in slowly and something in the back of my mind tells me that he's about to kiss me, but I don't believe it; Dean would never do that, after all. Then there's no denying it, and he's still holding me, so I can't pull away. His lips touch mine and, as soon as they do, there's this weird feeling going down my spine and my lips feel like they're on fire, but in a good way. I'm rooted to the spot by the electricity that's running through us, and then he's really kissing me. All thoughts are wiped from my mind. All the pain is gone and its just me and Dean. One thought comes to mind. I'm going to be addicted to these kisses until the day I die.

I feel moisture on my cheek and it jolts me out of the past. The tears have finally arrived. I turn away from the snow—away from that memory—and go to the bathroom. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light after sitting in darkness for so long. Once I can see properly again, I walk to the sink and splash water on my face. The mirror above the sink is cracked, but it still does not lie. I look like crap. A breeze circulates through the room from the window that I left open during my attempt at a shower. My skin tingles from the cold air and I look down at my arm.

I'm thrust into another memory. This one is Dean using his finger to trace his name and various other letters on my skin. He calls them his love letters. I can't take it anymore. I run from the bathroom and back into the darkness of the main room. I flop back down in the chair and exhale. It terrifies me how much that sounded like one of Dean's breaths; how everything that I say sounds like Him. I look at the clock. It's 1:59. Will tonight be like the others? I move to the window again and peer out of it. The snow is coming down harder than I've ever seen it before. There's a car approaching in the distance. How can anyone drive in weather like this?

A pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist and hold me tightly. They're strong and muscular and I know that my time has come at last. Without looking at the clock, I know that it's finally 2 am. Dean has finally come back to me, even if it's just for this one minute. "Come with me." I feel the breath on my ear and it sends shivers down my spine. I turn, ready to kiss those perfect lips and I stop when I catch sight of his face. This is the first time it's been like this. It's mangled and bloody and he looks so sad. I back away slowly, horror flooding me at the sight of my love's beautiful face so horribly disfigured.

I hear sirens and turn to look out the window again. The car that was approaching is speeding down the street with half a dozen police cars after it. I turn back and Dean is gone. The clock reads 2:01. He always calls my name as he goes and I can feel my heart shatter as I realize that I must have missed that call. His new face flashes in my head again and bile rises in my throat. I have to save him.

I run to the door, throw it open and dash out into the night. The tears are falling so thickly by now that, when I look up, I can't tell the difference between the street lights and the stars. I can, however, see the seven cars rushing down the road at top speed. I run out in front of the first one and all seven hit me. Someone once said that when the music hits, you feel no pain. I wish I had music right now.

I'm coming, Dean. I'm coming to save you.