Dean faced the people in front of him. Eyes trained on his younger brother who finally had the life he's wanted, no hunting or sacrificing his own life to the hands of the things that go bump in the night. Sam was in law school becoming the lawyer he worked and studied hard for. He had Jessica, the girl of his dreams, and they were gonna live that happily ever after. Engaged and planning on their wedding.

Dean had his mother. Her blonde hair just like he remembered and her gentle touch that assured him that angels watched over him as he slept. He wished for years for his mother to come back. Years of wanting her advice for the simplest of things, or just a mere hug when times were tough. But he also had a girl, a smart and strong woman that had so much in common with him. Down to almost the very last detail. And it wasn't like she wasn't what he wanted, a tan-skinned, Black-haired beauty that loved him.

"Dean," his mother placed a hand on his cheek, drawing his attention to her. "Stay with us. You can have what you've wished for."

"You can stop sacrificing everything," Carmen, the perfect woman, spoke up. "You can live here with me, have the family you've always wanted–" From behind her a small boy, about the age of five, clung to his mother's waist. Black hair like hers and bright green eyes like his. "You can be happy for once."

The little boy detached from his mom and walked up to Dean. It was clear that this was the son the gen made to convince him to stay, to give up the life that has taken more than it gave. And one look at the little kid was enough to turn his heart to putty. Maybe it was his untamable curly black hair or his big green eyes that were an almost exact replica of his own. Maybe it was the way he looked at him with pleading puppy dog eyes like Sam when he wants something so bad. Or maybe it was the way he hugged him tight, arms around his torso, head against his stomach, and asked him in a sickeningly-sweet sad voice, "Please don't go, daddy."

It was like a punch to his heart. The final blow that sent him over the edge and desperate to return to reality.

So, with tears threatening to spill from his glossy eyes, he said "I'm sorry" and pierced his heart with the silver cutlery he stole. Sam's voice calling out to him almost immediately after his self-inflicted stab, but when he opened in eyes and focused him, he saw his younger brother half a foot away from his face. Puppy-dog eyes filled to the brim with worry over the nearly unconscious Dean.  Relief washed over him when he saw Dean come-to as he cut him loose from the tight rope around his wrists, suspending him a few inches off the ground.

"Sam!" Dean warned his brother when he saw the gen sneak up behind the unfairly tall brother. This time he could see what he looked like more clearly. His body was covered in tattoos. Every inch of him decorated with dark ink in strange stripes and eyes that were an unnatural neon blue. They lit up when he had Sam pinned to the stairs, hand ablaze in a blue flame, trying to place his inked appendage on Sam to take him to his dream world.

But Dean had gained enough strength to break free from the unfinished cut of the ropes, racing to the dropped blade and to where his brother was just seconds from the same fate he just escaped from. He grasped the knife tightly and plunged it into the creatures back, twisting it to be sure he had killed him. Dean would do anything to save Sam. Even if it meant he had to kill along the way. But when he pulled Sam off the stairs he went to the girl he saw during his unconsciousness, she too was hanging off the ground, hands tied above her head and needle plunged into her neck. Draining every last drop of her blood.

When he stood before her, Dean looked for any sign of life. A blink or movement in her chest to show she was breathing. For her head to move or for her to move any part of her body, but she didn't. She just looked down at the floor and remained motionless letting a single tear slip down her face. "She's still alive!" Together the brothers cut her down and released the needle from her neck. She was very light and scarilly lifeless, but they knew she would make it.

Dean looked to Sam, "Take her to the car and call 9-1-1." With a worried nod, Sam left clutching the weak body as he ran to the '67 Chevy Impala.

The older brother looked around the abandoned warehouse. He didn't know how long he'd been there, hours, days maybe. And the rotting corpses of the two previous victims left a sour taste in his mouth. How long had those two been there? How long ago did they stumble upon the gen and lost to their hearts greatest desire? It pained him to know that it could've been him. If it weren't for his moral compass, Dean would've died in the warehouse happy in the perfect dream, living a long life with his mother and brother. Living with the woman that loved him and the little boy that was his son.

"Hello?" A small voice echoed in the building shocking Dean out of his stupor. "Is anyone there?"

"Hello?" Dean called back.

"Daddy?" It called again. "Daddy, where are you? I'm scared!"

Brief flashbacks of the little boy crossed his mind as he ran through the empty building. His heart racing, his head pounding, looking, searching, for the answer that he wished wasn't the son he had in the dream. As much as he wanted for that little boy to be real, deep down, Dean knew he wasn't. But he gripped the blade in his right hand and ran to the voice that called.

"Daddy!" The voice called louder, trembling with fear. Dean ran faster to the source. Hallways and corridors never ending as he traversed the endless maze, the sound getting clearer with every heavy footfall. And there, hidden far under the rotting wood table was the edges of a pair of shoes.

Bending down to see who was under the table, he came face to face with the little boy in his dream. Untamable curly hair and big green eyes red and puffy from crying, his little hands covered his ears, hoping to drown out the sounds that frightened him. But when he saw Dean, the little boy hurriedly crawled out from the table and buried himself in Dean. Small arms wrapped around his chest tight and wet spots on his shoulder from the little boy's tears.

Dean couldn't move. He just sat on his legs and hesitantly brought his arms around the small child. Though Dean could see the boy sobbing on him, he refused to believe that it was the same little boy. Though he could feel his heart beating fast and his chest rise and fall rapidly, he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that it was the same little boy. "I was scared, daddy! I woke up and I didn't see mommy or you, it was dark and there were scary sounds!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Dean succumbed to his heart, his aching heart, and tightened his arms around the boy. "You're safe, I'm here." It was then Dean realized he didn't know the child's name. He didn't see him much when he was in the dream, always at his mother's house or somewhere else, only being near him when they went to the restaurant for his mother's birthday and when he was trying to leave. "Do you have a name?"

The little boy shook his head and Dean thought for a moment, wanting his name to be right. He knew he shouldn't get attached to the child. He shouldn't name him in case something bad would happen. And he didn't want him to live the same childhood he had, on the road all the time in constant danger and never once knowing a mother. But, he couldn't help it. Despite knowing that the child could vanish in thin air at any time, Dean placed a hand on the back of his head and smiled at the little boy, "Percy. Your name is Percy, Percy Winchester."

"Let's go, Percy," Dean picked up the little boy, one arm under him and the other around his back. And Percy clung for dear life around Dean's neck. Scared still from being under the table. "Uncle Sammy is waiting for us in the car."

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