Supernatural: One Year Gone (3 page)

“It’s not like that, Sam. I tried. What else am I supposed to do? Cass is gone. How am I going to get to you?”

“No. I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I’m fine being barebacked by Lucifer every second for the next couple of hundred millennia.”

“I would do anything to get you out.”

“You sure about that? It looks to me like you are just doing what you always wanted.” Sam growled, but the force of the movement proved too much. He shook his head and spit a molar out into his hand. “Never did get my wisdom teeth out. They’re taking care of that right now.”

Dean was now up off the couch, face to face with the specter of his brother.

“Sam, you told me to come here to Lisa’s. Remember? Barbecues, football games.”

Sam winced.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“Oh nothing, just a pesky demon who keeps playing the Operation game with my liver. I lost my funny bone first, wouldn’t you know. Maybe that would have helped me get through this with a sense of humor.”

“Sam, tell me what I can do. There has to be someone down there that knows how to break you out.”

“Don’t worry about me. Have a good life, Dean.”

With that, Sam vanished.

Dean woke up in a cold sweat. His hands had clenched the book so tightly, the paperback was waded into a ball. The room was empty.

Dean swung his heels to the floor and hung his head. He felt as if someone had reached inside and pulled out his intestines through his eyes. The excruciating pain, the guilt, was beyond anything he had ever experienced.

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Lisa appear at the bottom of the stairs.

“You okay? I heard you scream,” she said anxiously.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Sweat dripped down his forehead.

Lisa walked across the room and sat down next to Dean on the couch.

“It’s not your fault,” she insisted gently.

“Lisa, please. I’m fine.”

“We talked about you seeing someone before.”

“I’m not seeing a psychiatrist. I’m fine. Really.”

Lisa nodded and then left him alone.

Lisa had been trying to get him to see a therapist since he showed up. It was part of the normal mourning process, she told Dean. Not that the Winchester family had ever had a
normal
mourning process. It seemed to Dean as if they had died and come back so many times. Dean wondered how long it would be until he finally
did
crack. Until his soul finally fractured under all the pain he had seen, caused, and felt.

“It’s normal to feel guilty when a family member passes, especially under extraordinary circumstances. Your brother died how, exactly?” Dr. Hodes took off her glasses and peered at Dean, slouched on the patterned couch opposite her.

“Um. Mining accident. We were both miners and he fell into a pit.”

“Terribly sorry. That’s an awful way to pass.”

“Yeah. It is. Listen Doc—”

“You can call me Linda.”

“Linda. I just need to know when this is going to go away. I’m putting my girl—well, my friend through hell. I’m staying at her place and I just need to be set straight again.”

“Dean, I’m sorry, things don’t work that way. We live in the real world where no magic power is going to restore your brother or take away your pain. What we need to focus on is why you have this guilt.”

“How about angels?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I think this was a waste of time.” Dean rose from the couch and dug into his pockets.

“Dean, why don’t you sit down? Let’s talk about how therapy might help you so it doesn’t feel like the weight of the world is on you and you alone.”

“It’s not anymore, Linda. It was on my brother and he took care of that. Thanks for your time.” Dean pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, counted out some bills and placed them on the coffee table. He then grabbed his jacket and left the office.

When Lisa returned home that night Dean was on the couch surrounded by a pile of books.

“I see you found the library,” she said putting down her purse and peering into the kitchen. “Where’s Ben?”

“He’s in bed,” Dean said flipping a page. “We ate macaroni and cheese, watched
30 Rock,
then he conked out.”

“So what’s all this?” Lisa already could tell she was going to regret asking the question.

“Um. Nothing really.”

“So you’re just doing some light reading?” Lisa picked up a Carl Sagan book, then put it down. “Why, Dean?”

Dean looked at her.

“Because I want to know that I’ve exhausted every possible way of getting him out of there.”

“By what? Turning back time? I mean this is...” Lisa looked around wide-eyed. “This is even a little too much for me.”

Dean set down the book he was reading.

“I tried it your way; Dr. Melfi didn’t work. Let me exhaust this as one last option. Please?”

Lisa shrugged, what else could she do. These past weeks Dean had seemed more connected to her and Ben. If he needed to do a little reading, perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“Okay. I’m going to bed. Night,” she said.

“Night,” Dean said, already engrossed in another book.

“You know I’m not coming back,” Sam said. The light from oncoming cars flickered over his face.

“Yeah. I’m aware.” Dean clenched his jaw.

“So you’ve got to promise me something.”

“Okay. Yeah. Anything.”

“You got to promise not to try to bring me back.”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What awaited Sam in Hell made Dean’s time down there look like the ball pit in a McDonald’s playground; fun but a little smelly. It wasn’t going to be the same for Sam. Sam was going to get the royal treatment. He would be toast. Dean couldn’t just let his brother rot in Hell.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Dean asked.

“You go find Lisa. You pray she’s dumb enough to take you in. You go have barbeques. And you go to football games. You go live some normal apple pie life, Dean. Promise me,” Sam said, looking at his brother.

Far away lights blinked in and out over the cornfields of Michigan as the Impala raced past. They were rocketing toward their destiny. Sam knew it. Dean knew it.

Dean’s throat was dry. He wasn’t supposed to even
try
to get his brother back?

Dean lay in bed for twenty minutes staring at the ceiling, thinking about Sam. Downstairs he could hear Lisa and Ben getting ready to go to the reservoir. Dean knew life was precious, at any point they could go and most likely be gone forever. Then somehow whatever was holding Dean back, the bind finally dissolved. A weight lifted off him. Dean decided he should join Lisa and Ben. He would do this for Sam.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean greeted Ben gruffly as he appeared in the kitchen doorway freshly showered and shaved.

Ben looked up from his breakfast. He beamed an accepting smile at Dean.

“Hey. Are you coming with us today?”

Lisa looked over from the stove, a wordless communication passed between them and Dean nodded. She understood him. Her limitless patience and acceptance was not the only thing Dean appreciated. As Lisa turned back toward the scrambled eggs Dean couldn’t help but admire her tightly jean-clad backside. He quickly turned his attention to Ben.

“What’s on the agenda at the park?”

“Fishing,” Ben said, devouring the last bit of toast. “But I’m always the one that has to hook the worms for Mom.”

“I’m squeamish with anything squishy,” Lisa said, glancing over her shoulder.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Dean said, taking a place on a stool next to Ben. “I mean, it’s every man for themselves when it comes to fishing. Right Ben?”

“I’ve tried to teach her, but it’s useless.”

“I have a Winchester method that my father taught me.” Dean lightly tapped Ben on the arm. “We’ll get your mom up to speed. Next thing you know she’ll be on
Bass Masters.”

Lisa set down some eggs, toast and a cup of coffee in front of Dean.

“I’m not going to be on
Bass Masters.”

Dean took a scoop of eggs.

“If I had known there was this type of service around here, I might have come downstairs more often,” he said.

Lisa smiled. “The chef serves, the eaters wash up.”

Dean made a face at Ben.

“I cleaned up last night,” Ben said, taking his plate to the sink. “That means it’s your turn.”

Lisa leaned over the counter and sipped at her coffee. She chided, “Gotta pull your own weight around here.”

Dean shoveled more eggs into his mouth. He might be able to do that.

“Ben, go get ready. Pull the tackle box and rods from the garage and set them out front. Okay?” Lisa said.

“Okay.” Ben slid off the stool and disappeared through the laundry-room door leading to the garage.

A silence fell between Dean and Lisa. She put her hand on his knee.

“Thank you.”

Dean set down his fork and peered into Lisa’s dark eyes. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. Dean had been sleeping in Lisa’s guest room for two months and never once had she asked why Dean had chosen her.

“Lisa, Sam told me to come here. To be with you.”

“Are you telling me you’re only here because Sam told you to come?”

“No. Initially, I didn’t know where else to go. But also, yes, because he wanted me to be with you. Because even if I didn’t want to admit it, he knew I wanted a life where I didn’t have to worry if there’s something around the corner ready to jump me. Sam knew me better than I knew myself. I’m sorry. I should have told you this weeks ago.”

“I don’t care if you’re here because Sam said so. You wouldn’t have stayed unless you wanted to. Right?”

Dean nodded.

“Then I guess it means you want to stay. Maybe you should start accepting that, rather than beating yourself up about it. Moving forward isn’t a bad thing, Dean. And if you want to move forward with me and Ben, well... I’m willing to try that. You get what I’m saying?”

Dean understood. Even though the very fabric of his soul resisted the idea that he deserved good things, perhaps he couldn’t suffer any longer. There wasn’t anything he could do for Sam now except what he had asked: to be happy with Lisa.

“Moo shoo pork?” Dean called. He pulled the food container from the box on the kitchen table.

“That’s mine,” Ben yelled, racing from the living room to the kitchen, “and I want white rice.”

“Brown rice. It’s better for you.” Lisa said, spooning rice onto a plate for Ben.

“Okay, whatever.” Ben grabbed the plate and carried it back to his position in front of the television.

“Whoa, what’s the rush?” Dean asked over his shoulder.

Ben turned up the sound.

“Not so loud,” Lisa called, taking her place across the dinner table from Dean. She smiled as Dean cracked open a beer and dug into his chow mein.

“Not a bad place,” Dean said, between bites.

“And you wanted to go to the Golden Palace again.” Lisa smiled. “I don’t know why you like it so much. You think that waitress is cute, don’t you?”

“She doesn’t have anything on you,” Dean said, picking up Lisa’s free hand and kissing her palm.

The last couple of weeks with Dean had been, if anything, simply idyllic: Dean had found a job refurbishing old buildings in nearby towns, and he was even cooking every once in a while. Life with Dean was great, even after everything they had been through in the beginning. Lisa never thought that Dean would walk back into her life, but here he was. It was strange. Years ago she had resigned herself to being a single mother. She had practically mastered being a single parent: she went to Ben’s softball games, covered the parent/teacher conferences, stayed up late with Ben when he had the stomach flu. She handled a lot: the carpooling, lugging sports equipment, even the science projects which she never really understood. Lisa did it all. But it was the loneliness she felt at night that made her really want a partner. Then Dean showed up and all that changed.

Dean had never lived a normal life except those first years in Lawrence, Kansas before his mother was killed. Life with Lisa was exactly what he had imagined domesticity to be. There was no denying it; Dean was happy. He was like a regular guy: he had bought a truck and retired the Impala, and had even taken Ben to a couple of Indianapolis Indians baseball games.