iamthemagicks:
Waywardly Home
Dean/Lisa, Sam and Ben featured.
Summary: They haven’t spoken in two months and after Jess dies, Dean (with Sam in tote) makes his way back to Lisa.
~
They haven’t spoken in two months.
Dean sends money and a letter every few weeks to Ben. He checks Bobby’s for anything in return, but so far, nothing. He’s too prideful to apologize, so he just hopes that the letters and money (more than he usually sends, he’s been foregoing motels and sleep in the back seat of the car) will help smooth things over.
It started when they were both warming up for sex. They hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and Ben was finally in bed after trying to stay up with Dean watching monster trucks. Lisa was in his lap, pulling off her shirt and was holding onto her tight. She kissed him and muttered, I was thinking. And ran her fingers down his ribs, over a yellowing bruise. Maybe a little brother or sister for Ben.
Come on, he chuckled, looking up. Isn’t it bad enough we all ready got one?
She jerked back and froze. Bad enough?
It only escalated from there. She told him that she never forced him to stay around and he struggled with his own words that kept coming out in stupid ways like, I didn’t mean that. I love him. And she’d respond, But you just don’t want another one.
No!
Why not?
Isn’t Ben enough?
What he wanted to say was he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving more than one kid with a dead-beat dad. Someone who could die just as easily today as he could next week. Instead he said, We didn’t even plan for him. He was a mistake.
That earned him a slap to the face and she told him to fuck off and he left, gathering his clothes from the floor, his duffel which hadn’t even been unpacked yet from the closet. He didn’t even look back as he stormed out of the new house. He thanked God that Ben was asleep. He spun out the tires as he zipped away. Drove forty miles before stopping for a beer and a blow job from the waitress in the alley.
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iamthemagicks:
Waywardly Home
Dean/Lisa, Sam and Ben featured.
Summary: They haven’t spoken in two months and after Jess dies, Dean (with Sam in tote) makes his way back to Lisa.
~
They haven’t spoken in two months.
Dean sends money and a letter every few weeks to Ben. He checks Bobby’s for anything in return, but so far, nothing. He’s too prideful to apologize, so he just hopes that the letters and money (more than he usually sends, he’s been foregoing motels and sleep in the back seat of the car) will help smooth things over.
It started when they were both warming up for sex. They hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and Ben was finally in bed after trying to stay up with Dean watching monster trucks. Lisa was in his lap, pulling off her shirt and was holding onto her tight. She kissed him and muttered, I was thinking. And ran her fingers down his ribs, over a yellowing bruise. Maybe a little brother or sister for Ben.
Come on, he chuckled, looking up. Isn’t it bad enough we all ready got one?
She jerked back and froze. Bad enough?
It only escalated from there. She told him that she never forced him to stay around and he struggled with his own words that kept coming out in stupid ways like, I didn’t mean that. I love him. And she’d respond, But you just don’t want another one.
No!
Why not?
Isn’t Ben enough?
What he wanted to say was he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving more than one kid with a dead-beat dad. Someone who could die just as easily today as he could next week. Instead he said, We didn’t even plan for him. He was a mistake.
That earned him a slap to the face and she told him to fuck off and he left, gathering his clothes from the floor, his duffel which hadn’t even been unpacked yet from the closet. He didn’t even look back as he stormed out of the new house. He thanked God that Ben was asleep. He spun out the tires as he zipped away. Drove forty miles before stopping for a beer and a blow job from the waitress in the alley.
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Waywardly Home
Dean/Lisa, Sam and Ben featured.
Summary: They haven’t spoken in two months and after Jess dies, Dean (with Sam in tote) makes his way back to Lisa.
~
They haven’t spoken in two months.
Dean sends money and a letter every few weeks to Ben. He checks Bobby’s for anything in return, but so far, nothing. He’s too prideful to apologize, so he just hopes that the letters and money (more than he usually sends, he’s been foregoing motels and sleep in the back seat of the car) will help smooth things over.
It started when they were both warming up for sex. They hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and Ben was finally in bed after trying to stay up with Dean watching monster trucks. Lisa was in his lap, pulling off her shirt and was holding onto her tight. She kissed him and muttered, I was thinking. And ran her fingers down his ribs, over a yellowing bruise. Maybe a little brother or sister for Ben.
Come on, he chuckled, looking up. Isn’t it bad enough we all ready got one?
She jerked back and froze. Bad enough?
It only escalated from there. She told him that she never forced him to stay around and he struggled with his own words that kept coming out in stupid ways like, I didn’t mean that. I love him. And she’d respond, But you just don’t want another one.
No!
Why not?
Isn’t Ben enough?
What he wanted to say was he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving more than one kid with a dead-beat dad. Someone who could die just as easily today as he could next week. Instead he said, We didn’t even plan for him. He was a mistake.
That earned him a slap to the face and she told him to fuck off and he left, gathering his clothes from the floor, his duffel which hadn’t even been unpacked yet from the closet. He didn’t even look back as he stormed out of the new house. He thanked God that Ben was asleep. He spun out the tires as he zipped away. Drove forty miles before stopping for a beer and a blow job from the waitress in the alley.
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Just Breathe
Adult
Summary: Dean and Lisa and the first time after Ben was born. A little bit of smut, a little bit of fluff at the end.
~
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then do it,” Lisa tells him, in a soft tone, her mouth a hot spot on his neck.
Dean rolls his eyes, but does as she says. She kisses his chin before sitting behind him on the bed. Her toned legs on either side of his, her breasts pressed firmly to his back. She kisses his neck and rakes her fingers up and down his arms. “Now, take a deep breath in.” Her hands rest on his hips.
They sit, naked, on her futon couch. Embarrassingly, he couldn’t get it up; no matter how much he kissed her, how much she touched him. He didn’t sleep that night, or the night before. Just laid on the couch watching TV while she slept. Dipped into the nursery any time Ben made a sound, as not to wake her.
“And out,” she breathes right over his ear and he does it with her. Her body is so warm and soft against him. She kneads his shoulders and back for a while, her hands stronger than they seem; works out the kinks from that damn couch, from sleeping in the car the night before he arrived.
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iamthemagicks:
“Why are we in the hospital?” Sam asks, looking down at their matching dark blue scrubs, the long lab coats.
Dean checks up and down the hall way, then down at his outfit again. Nurses dressed in pink walk up and down the halls, a family of three blonde, little girls and their father walking around the corners, balloons and flowers.
Dean checks the door number and walks away without answering Sam. Room 54B. He pushes open the door and there’s Lisa, about to pop and walking around the bed, her hands on her back, her dark hair falling out of its bun. “This fucking sucks,” she says.
He shrugs and she leans on the bed, trying to breathe.
“I thought.” Sam catches up and scratches the back of his neck. “I thought you weren’t here.”
Dean gazes on as the memory moves on without him. Lisa complaining about her pain, sucking on those ice chips. She laughs at something he said, at the fact that he stole the lab coat. Dean clears his throat. “I told Dad that I had to follow up on a lead.” He lowers his head and licks his lips. “Didn’t think he’d let me come.”
Sam tries to remember that weekend, sometime in June, when Dean disappeared. Came back a week later with a black eye, but a grin as he showed Sam some pictures of a new-born Ben. All pink and his face squished, a head full of dark hair, and grey eyes. He told Sam that he swung by Lisa’s, checked in on things. Had to apologize with a lot of Oreos (her ultimate weakness) and take care of the kid for two whole days. But he was smiling. Even when Dad yelled at him about something, or asked them both to do double time on research.
“I’m sorry,” Sam says, apologizing for their father. And Dean had always been the one defending the man, cleaning up his messes.
The scene fast-forwards and Sam feels a bit winded until it settles again. They’ve moved, still in a hospital though. An operating room where Lisa is laid up and covered with sheets and there are a bunch of doctors and nurses scrambling around. She’s crying and looking up at where Dean is supposed to be. “What happened?”
Dean walks over and stands close; the sound is distant and he runs his hand over her hair. “His heart rate dropped really fast. Had to cut him out.” That had been left out of the story.
Then there’s a screaming baby and blood and Lisa looks faint but she’s smiling and trying to see. She squeezes Dean’s hand and Sam thinks he sees tears in his brother’s eyes, like the memory replayed of their mother. Sam feels so out of place; not part of this little world and family that Dean has, all to himself.
And Dean is crouched down close to Lisa holding the baby and she’s crying and touches Dean’s face and he looks down and Sam wants to cry himself.
There’s a wooshing and a breeze crosses them. It gets dark, real dark and Sam and Dean are standing in the middle of the road, damp asphalt under their boots. Back in regular clothes. Dean glances around, bewildered, looking at his empty hands.
“Dean-” Sam starts, his breath a hot, white puff on the cool air.
Dean clears his throat and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Come on,” he says. “Road keeps goin’ this way.”
Dean leans forward and listens for three rings before the phone is picked up. “Hello?” Lisa answers, out of breath.
“Hey, Lise.” He grins though there’s no one there to grin for.
She takes another deep breath, gulps on some water. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Nothin’, look I don’t got a lot of time here.” He looks around, leans against the cement wall. The guy next to him is sweet-talking someone, the guards stand at the gate doors watching.
Lisa laughs, lightly. “Why, where are you? This isn’t one of you numbers.”
“No. I’m uh, I’m kinda in jail right now.”
A pause and some tapping. “Jail?”
“Yeah.”
She huffs. “Jesus Dean, I thought—”
“No. It’s not like that. This is a job,” he whispers. “Promise. You think I’d call you if I was in jail?”
“Maybe if Sam was with you,” she half scoffs and half laughs.
He grins like an idiot. “Just callin’ to let you know we’ll probably be rolling in after this job. If that’s okay.”
“Sure. Want me to tell Ben?”
“Yeah.”
Sometimes Dean doesn’t let Lisa tell Ben of his visits. Sometimes it isn’t a for sure thing, and Dean doesn’t want Ben sitting on the front porch with a baseball mit, waiting. “Sides,” Dean says, dropping his voice and leaning into the wall a bit. “I’ve been real lonely.”
“Oooh,” she laughs, high pitched. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. Haven’t seen a lady, since I don’t know when.”
A guard taps on the bars and points to him, indicating he’s got about a minute left. “I gotta go,” he says.
She sighs. “Okay. Be careful. You’re kind of too pretty to be in jail.”
“Yeah that’s what I’ve been told.” He huffs. All his life. “I’ll call you when I’m outta here.”
“Yeah.” She’s gulping water again. There’s not much else to say. He says bye and she says bye and Dean hangs up the phone, walks out of the phone area, past the guards, past the cells, and back out into the yard.
Meet the Winchesters
Dean/Lisa
PG, utter fluff.
Summary: Lisa makes Dean take her to Bobby’s for Christmas so she can meet the family.
-
“This is stupid,” Dean announced for the tenth time on their trip. He grips the wheel tight as they pull into the entrance of Bobby’s salvage yard.
“It is not,” Lisa answers shifting in the seat. She’s kicked off her shoes and has her feet pressed against the dashboard. “Stop saying that.”
“We don’t gotta do this, Lise,” he groans and slows down the car. He doesn’t do this meet the parents bullshit. Parents never liked him anyway, so what was the point?
“I mean, this is you and me, and the kid.” He reaches over to rub at her stomach which he can’t really feel through her two layers of shirts. She’s not really showing right now anyway. Just a tiny bump he notices when she’s naked.
She sighs and lolls her head on the seat. “I want to know the family that my baby is coming from. Don’t act like such a child.”
He grunts and keeps the car going up to the front. Dad isn’t here yet; good. Just Bobby and Sam.
Lisa’s been asking for weeks to meet his beloved little brother, his father. After he proved to her that ghosts and demons were real, she was even more adamant about it. He’d all ready showed her pictures and she awed at how beautiful his mother was.
Dean stops the car, parking behind Bobby’s rusted bucket of a buick. “I’m not nervous, why are you?” she asks, leaning down to the floor to pick up her shoes.
“Because…” he rubs the back of his neck. He all ready knows he’s not good enough for her, never will be. And he’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him to the curb after the whole demon incident (but hey, she demanded proof). Dad still isn’t happy about the situation, that Dean takes off almost every time after a hunt, to go see her. “I just…dont’ think we have to do this to you know, be together or whatever.”
She gives an almost sympathetic smile before leaning over to kiss him, holding his chin. “It’s Christmas, Dean. You’re supposed to be with your family.”
That’s part of the reason, he’s figured. Her parents are off on a cruise this year, leaving Lisa and her sister Haylie to fend for themselves. Haylie has her own boyfriend upstate somewhere. A log cabin, some roast or whatever. She doesn’t want to be alone either.
She gets out of the car and reaches into the back to grab her little suitcase. The one with the long handle and wheels. It catches a bit as she walks on without him across the gravel to the front door. Dean watches a second, expecting her to turn around and run at the the run-down site that he sometimes calls home. She’s half-way up the stairs when she pauses and leans forward a bit, a hand on the rickety railing, and looks like she’s gonna throw up.
Dean gets out of the car without his duffel and trots up to her, putting a hand on her back. “You okay?”
She sighs. “Yeah, just a little pain, it’s fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Promise.” She keeps walking. Dean follows her up and to the front door. They don’t knock, Dean opens the door for her.
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Lisa tries to memorize Dean’s body, though she all ready has. He’s different now. The same, but different. The spread of his body under her hands is the same, his muscles and his bones, the number of ribs she feels just under his skin. The taut pull of his nipple as she runs her teeth and tongue over it, the sound of his breath being suck in sharp and the chuckle that follows.
The tattoo is in the same place on his chest (she has an identical one on her ankle, smaller), and his skin tastes the same. Salty and with something metallic. She sits on his lap and he stares at her, long and hard, his hands gripping her hips. Same eyes, same pointed nose, lush pink lips. Freckles more prominent along his cheek bones, lighter across his nose. The one dark one on the center of his lip.
But so much is different. Though she knows the slopes and plains of his body, the landscape is changed. So smooth, no knicks or scars. The raised stitching along his ribs are gone, the bite marks along his thigh. The fingers tangled in her hair are straight, and there isn’t a single bruise any where on his body.
Just one mark though. Strangest thing she’s ever seen. A burn mark, red and ugly, in the shape of a hand on his left shoulder. He didn’t say much when she asked, just a shrug and, “That was my ticket out.” And he hushed her with a kiss.
“Careful,” he chuckles, pulling on her hips, trying to bring her closer to his lap. “It’s my first time.”
She smiles and kisses him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
Lisa tries to memorize Dean’s body, though she all ready has. He’s different now. The same, but different. The spread of his body under her hands is the same, his muscles and his bones, the number of ribs she feels just under his skin. The taut pull of his nipple as she runs her teeth and tongue over it, the sound of his breath being suck in sharp and the chuckle that follows.
The tattoo is in the same place on his chest (she has an identical one on her ankle, smaller), and his skin tastes the same. Salty and with something metallic. She sits on his lap and he stares at her, long and hard, his hands gripping her hips. Same eyes, same pointed nose, lush pink lips. Freckles more prominent along his cheek bones, lighter across his nose. The one dark one on the center of his lip.
But so much is different. Though she knows the slopes and plains of his body, the landscape is changed. So smooth, no knicks or scars. The raised stitching along his ribs are gone, the bite marks along his thigh. The fingers tangled in her hair are straight, and there isn’t a single bruise any where on his body.
Just one mark though. Strangest thing she’s ever seen. A burn mark, red and ugly, in the shape of a hand on his left shoulder. He didn’t say much when she asked, just a shrug and, “That was my ticket out.” And he hushed her with a kiss.
“Careful,” he chuckles, pulling on her hips, trying to bring her closer to his lap. “It’s my first time.”
She smiles and kisses him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
Dean parks the Impala one block over. Sam told Dean that he’s been keeping an eye on Lisa and Ben, stopping by when he can, sends money. He walks down the sidewalk avoiding gazes, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. It’s odd, walking on solid ground again. Being out in the bright sun, feeling a slight breeze. His hands feel sticky, his bones heavy.
A dog in the next yard barks and Dean braces himself for an attack; hounds wandered rampant in Hell. But it was just Mrs. Crane and her stupid little Jack Russel. He hated that damn yippie thing. But he keeps walking, stops in front of the house that he sometimes considers to be his. The mailbox he and Ben had to fix, the porch swing. All the little things he’d done over the years. Fixing the shingles on the roof, every squeaky door in the house.
The dog starts barking again and Dean quickens his pace up the walk way. The garage door is open and her car is there, that little Versa she wanted so bad. He hated that too; it was silent, shiny. He shook his head and stood outside the door, listened for Ben in the backyard.
Maybe he shouldn’t; maybe he should just leave her alone, let her live her life. She’s probably all ready started to move on, right? Find someone better, worth her time. He’d been dying to ask Sam if he’d seen another man around, but he kept his mouth shut. Just looked at the picture of Lisa and Ben in his wallet.
He lifts his hand and knocks, three times. He hasn’t knocked in years. And waits, breathing deep. On the other side, he hears loud music being turned down and then her heavy steps; she was in the middle of a work-out.
Lisa opens the door with a slight huff, but stops every single one of her movements when she sees him. Her mouth drops, her eyebrows furrow. He tries to smile at her after a second, licks his lips. “Hey Lise.”
“Dean.”
“Yeah.”
She swallows and reaches behind the door and in a quick motion, throws water in his face. On the one hand, he’s damn proud of her for testing, on the other, he’s all ready had water thrown in his face, cut his arm and almost gotten stabbed to death.
He spits out the water. She stares at him as she dials the phone. “Sam?” She says. “There’s someone who looks like—”
Quickly, her face shifts, from angry, to shocked. “It can’t be,” she says in a hushed tone. “I swear to God, Sam.”
Dean stands quiet, tweaking his lips, waiting. Finally she drops the phone. “Dean,” she says again.
He nods. “Yeah.” She steps back and he steps forward, over the threshold where they had laid salt lines in the foundation, where they duct-taped devil’s shoestring over the door. “Lisa, I swear, it’s me. You heard Sam.”
Lisa nods and swallows. Her eyes water and she reaches forward, touches his jacket, smooths over his chest. He shudders and she cries, leaning forward, gripping that shirt tight in her fists. He holds her as tight as he can, both arms around her and smells her hair. Her neck, her skin, everything. Jesus thank you, he actually thinks.
The smell of her hair, of her sweaty clothes and skin.
“Where’s Ben?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Soccer.” She presses her face to his chest. “Oh God,” she says. “Come on.” She pulls back and wipes under her eyes, straightens out her shirt. “Are you hungry? I can…I’ll make something. I mean Sam was just here, so we…we have a lot of stuff. Or I could go out.” She starts to go to the kitchen and he follows her. She opens the fridge and starts taking out food.
“Lisa, wait.” He takes her wrist and she shivers with a gasp. “Just…wait.” He hugs her again, his hands looping down around her waist. For the first time since crawling out of the ground, he feels calm.
- Ben is Dean’s biological son
- Dean and Lisa aren’t together the whole time. There are years where they’re not dating, but he does come around every few months for Ben. After he comes back from Hell though, things are pretty permanent.
- Lisa is aware that Dean sleeps with other women on occasion. But she doesn’t ask about it, and she’s always the one that he comes home to.
- They tell people that Dean is in the army and often deployed.
So Dad’s not exactly thrilled when Dean tells him that he got some girl pregnant. John’s words, not Dean’s. Sam sits at the rickety table that sits in the kitchenette of the house they’ve been renting for two months. He’s pretending to be doing his homework, but Dean knows his little brother is eavesdropping. Of course John’s pretty loud, and they’re only three feet from each other.
Dean stands there, motionless, just listening to his father rant, trying to avoid that gaze of disappointment. Not that Dean’s not used to it, but right now it feels more like a kick to the nuts rather than a kick to the stomach.
“Jesus Dean, I know you got an appetite, but fuck, I taught you to be careful.” John runs his hands through his hair.
“I was…” But there were a few times they didn’t. There was too much need, want. Most of the time he pulled out. Lisa was something else though. He had to be a part of her, in her. Dean shrugs. “I mean…sometimes this happens. I guess…” still can’t look up.
John snorts and shakes his head. “You even sure it’s yours? I mean that kinda girl-“
Dean snaps to attention, his shoulders squared, his spine straight. “She ain’t that kinda girl. She’s…she’s a good person. She said she didn’t even need me.”
“Well, good.”
“No, Dad. I wanna…” he loses his confidence real fast when John steps forward in his space. His father’s never hit him, but yeah, Dean was careless. “I gotta take responsibility, right?”
His father sighs and backs away. Heavy steps, heavy breaths. “Does she know what you do?”
“No, sir.”
“You going to tell her?”
He shrugs. “Not unless I have to.”
John nods. “Fine,” he decides quickly. “Fine. You’re right. But you got responsibilities to this family first. Sammy and me. And we got a job to do.”
He swallows. “Yes, sir.”
John grabs the keys from a bowl by the front door. “I’m gonna go to Terry’s, see Father Jim.” He walks out the door without another word and slams it on his way out.
All the clenched muscles in Dean’s body ease; he lets out his held breath, finally blinks again. He heads back to bedroom that he and Sam share, and Sam follows.
“Don’t listen to him,” Sam says. Dean starts packing a duffle.
“About what?”
“Having to be here first. I can take care of myself.”
He pauses to look at his brother in the doorway. Almost as tall as he is now, probably be even taller in a year. “I…we got a job, Sammy.”
“And you got a kid.” Sam tosses Dean a wad of rolled up cash.
“What’s this?”
“Enough gas to get you there and back and maybe get her flowers or something.”
“Sam-“
“Just do it.” He runs his hands through his floppy hair. “Dad will be back in like an hour.”
“Why are we in the hospital?” Sam asks, looking down at their matching dark blue scrubs, the long lab coats.
Dean checks up and down the hall way, then down at his outfit again. Nurses dressed in pink walk up and down the halls, a family of three blonde, little girls and their father walking around the corners, balloons and flowers.
Dean checks the door number and walks away without answering Sam. Room 54B. He pushes open the door and there’s Lisa, about to pop and walking around the bed, her hands on her back, her dark hair falling out of its bun. “This fucking sucks,” she says.
He shrugs and she leans on the bed, trying to breathe.
“I thought.” Sam catches up and scratches the back of his neck. “I thought you weren’t here.”
Dean gazes on as the memory moves on without him. Lisa complaining about her pain, sucking on those ice chips. She laughs at something he said, at the fact that he stole the lab coat. Dean clears his throat. “I told Dad that I had to follow up on a lead.” He lowers his head and licks his lips. “Didn’t think he’d let me come.”
Sam tries to remember that weekend, sometime in June, when Dean disappeared. Came back a week later with a black eye, but a grin as he showed Sam some pictures of a new-born Ben. All pink and his face squished, a head full of dark hair, and grey eyes. He told Sam that he swung by Lisa’s, checked in on things. Had to apologize with a lot of Oreos (her ultimate weakness) and take care of the kid for two whole days. But he was smiling. Even when Dad yelled at him about something, or asked them both to do double time on research.
“I’m sorry,” Sam says, apologizing for their father. And Dean had always been the one defending the man, cleaning up his messes.
The scene fast-forwards and Sam feels a bit winded until it settles again. They’ve moved, still in a hospital though. An operating room where Lisa is laid up and covered with sheets and there are a bunch of doctors and nurses scrambling around. She’s crying and looking up at where Dean is supposed to be. “What happened?”
Dean walks over and stands close; the sound is distant and he runs his hand over her hair. “His heart rate dropped really fast. Had to cut him out.” That had been left out of the story.
Then there’s a screaming baby and blood and Lisa looks faint but she’s smiling and trying to see. She squeezes Dean’s hand and Sam thinks he sees tears in his brother’s eyes, like the memory replayed of their mother. Sam feels so out of place; not part of this little world and family that Dean has, all to himself.
And Dean is crouched down close to Lisa holding the baby and she’s crying and touches Dean’s face and he looks down and Sam wants to cry himself.
There’s a wooshing and a breeze crosses them. It gets dark, real dark and Sam and Dean are standing in the middle of the road, damp asphalt under their boots. Back in regular clothes. Dean glances around, bewildered, looking at his empty hands.
“Dean-” Sam starts, his breath a hot, white puff on the cool air.
Dean clears his throat and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Come on,” he says. “Road keeps goin’ this way.”
“You did what?” She asks quietly. He sits across from her at the table, head down, foot kicking at the chair. He swallows and listens for Ben and Sam, out in the back yard. Throwing a football or something.
Dean finally looks up, his mouth parted. “I…I had to.” He did. Couldn’t be in a world where Sam wasn’t; couldn’t fuck up the only job he ever had. What would Dad say? What would his son say if he found out that Dean couldn’t even take care of his brother, how could he take care of him and Lisa?
She stands up and he is unsure of her actions; he shies, like a cat as she moves to him. She’s crying and then she hits him in the shoulder. Hard. She does it three more times, slightly squeaking with each slap. “You asshole!” She yells.
“Lisa,” he please. “I couldn’t-“
“And what about us, huh?” She walks towards the foyer. “You came the whole way here, on his birthday, to tell us you’re going to be dead in a year?”
“No.” He runs a hand over his face and stands. “No. Not to tell him. Just you.” His voice drops. He thought about it, telling Ben. Explaining it carefully. John didn’t tell him, just gave him that warning. A few words of praise after years of nothing.
Lisa jerks from him. Her mouth twisted in horror. “You don’t want him to know?”
“No. Just…just tell him it was a hunt. Okay? That I died on the job.” His voice catches, catching like a damn teenager.
She shoves him in the chest before going out the front door. For a second he stays in the foyer, of the nice house that he didn’t contribute to by. It was all her. She didn’t need him, never did. He only came by every few weeks or months with a toy for Ben, a few days of hot, bendy sex with Lisa, and then he was gone. It’s better right? Sam’s alive, Lisa can find someone else, Jesus someone that deserves her.
After a few deep breaths (that she taught him) and he wipes at his eyes, just to be sure, he follows her out. She’s standing in the middle of the walk-way, arms folded around her own waist. Her dark brown hair blows in the wind, he hears her sniffling. He stands behind her, touches the ends of those dark strands. “Lisa,” he whispers.
She turns around and buries herself against him, into the thick material of his coat, her hands gripping his shirt. He puts an arm around her, holding her close, as close as she will let him. She sobs, long, hard sobs, the kind he only heard once when her beloved grandmother died.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, close to tears himself.
“What are we supposed to do without you?” she whispers. A sound of vulnerability he’s never seen. No one has ever needed him besides Sam, not really.
He doesn’t have an answer for her, just like he didn’t have an answer for Bobby, or Sam. He just grips her tighter and lets her cry. He hears Ben laughing from the backyard, Sam calling out a ‘Hey that’s not fair!’ and Dean thinks he might as well just die right now.