Written for the Outside the Box collab at the Reviews Lounge Too, check it out for some fantastic stories from various fandoms.
Dean wasn't an outside of the box kind of guy. Sure, the people who met him and learned what he and Sam did wouldn't see it that way, but once you really got to know him – though few people ever had - you'd realize how enclosed he was by his own boundaries.
Occasionally, he would hit upon something unusual that would destroy whatever monster they were fighting, but more times than not, it was luck or an intuitive leap rather than the analysis and theorizing of a new idea.
When he was forced to go outside the rules and laws he lived by, he felt a twisting in his gut; not the twist that said his life was seconds from being over - he was used to that particular twist - but the twist that told him he was in over his head and to get into the Impala, crank up the tunes and floor it to the next state.
Ever since Cass had hauled his ass out of Hell, that twist was part of him, and he hated it. He wanted to go back to cold beers, a hot burger and an even hotter waitress to hit on. Good luck with that.
Sam was passed out next to him, curled up into the door; the yellow traffic lines blurred into a bright streak against the pavement as the tires hummed their steady familiar tune. They had a tip from Bobby about a couple of killings in Oregon that sounded suspicious. Nothing indicated it would be Heaven related, but then again, unless it was Cass who tipped them off, it rarely did.
He hoped this job was simple, an old -school monster-of- the-week bump in the dark thing they could kill and not have to worry if it was one more scheme that Zachariah cooked up. Damn you, Cass; I hate all this thinking- that's Sam's job.
"Where are we?"
"Somewhere in Colorado, I think."
"Need me to take the wheel for a bit?" Sam asked, unfolding his long frame into a upright position.
Dean tossed him a glance, "I'm good."
They sat in silence, lost in their thoughts.
"Why do you think it's us? Sam asked.
Dean raised an eyebrow, "Vague much?"
"Us, Dean - Lucifer and Michael. Why are we their vessels and not two other brothers who don't know anything about all of this?" Sam replied tersely.
"I don't know - because angels are vain and they think we look good?" Dean said, squinting his eyes against a passing car's headlights.
Sam sighed, "Come on, Dean, we've got a long way to go, andthis is the first time we've had five minutes to talk without having to stab something or draw some messed up symbol in blood."
"Fine, Sammy, you want to talk, talk; but I ain't one to spill my guts like a sad little girl on Oprah."
"So this is funny to you?" Sam asked. "Heaven and Hell decide to ride our asses, and it's a joke? Jesus, Dean, you're not some one-dimensional character on a knock-off tv show; I know this is messing with your head."
Dean gritted his teeth. "So what if it is? Big deal. We've dealt with crap like this before and lived; I don't get why you're so damned set on making this different."
"Because it is different, you ass!" Sam said loudly. "It's not a shapeshifter or a wendingo or a crossroad demon! It's the Apocalypse, and we're supposed to kill each other. Why is it so hard for you to get?"
"I do get it. I get we're gonna die. I get Bobby's gonna die and probably a whole lota other good people because we can't do shit about it. God's not answering his phone, angels want to kill, maim or bludgeon us and demons want to pack us off to their boss, and you want me to talk about it?" Dean exploded. "Fine, I'll talk about it."
He shot a hard look at his brother, the sliver of moon in the sky throwing pale light across Sam's gaunt features. "I'm scared out of my mind; Cass ain't got the mojo he used to, Bobby's a cripple because of us and Lucifer wants to ride you're skinny ass into eternity. We have no idea how to stop it, and everything we do find says you're gonna die and I'm headed for God's road side used veggie stand. So yeah, Sammy, I do get it."
Pensive silence filled the car as the miles rolled by, both too stubborn to budge.
The first thing Dean noticed was how soft the sheets were - far softer than the usual motel hundred thread crap they had to put up with. Must be under new management.
He sighed heavily and cracked his eyes open as he swung his legs out and sat on the edge of the bed. Sammy musta been exhausted. I don't hear him snoring.
He was about to stand when a warm, soft hand settled gently on his bare back. "Dean?"
His muscles tensed and uncoiled in seconds as he leapt off the bed and groped for his Glock on the nightstand; not finding it, he whipped around and cocked back his fist, ready to wallop whoever had touched him.
"Dean! It's me, Lisa! Baby, it's ok." A voice called from the darkness.
"Lisa?"
"Yes, baby, Lisa. It's ok," She said sheets rustling as she moved to turn on the bedside lamp.
With a snap, soft light bathed the room, still bright enough to cause Dean to squint against it. Forcing his eyes open, a fuzzy blur took shape, transforming into the dark haired woman in bed with a concerned look on her face. "Bad dream again?"
The levers and gears clicked into place, and Dean remembered where he was and why. "Something like that, sorry."
"It's ok Dean - I'd be more worried if you didn't have any bad dreams. Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, pulling her knees to her chest under the covers.
The adrenaline rush subsiding, Dean sat back down. "No – it wasn't a bad dream, not like the others."
Lisa hesitantly placed her hand on his back again, the flinch this time more of a shiver that ran up his spine. It would be a long time before he would be used to it. "Sam wanted me to talk, too. He hated that I wouldn't tell him what I was feeling," he explained with a bitter chuckle. 'Hell, even now it's about as easy as letting you drive my car."
She nodded and watched the muscles in his back ripple as he fought with his singular nature. "It's been almost a year since – he left and I still feel guilt, like I kicked a sick puppy," he said, voice horse. "I'm not the one who was supposed to be normal and have the family and house, nor the bed to sleep in with the same woman every night.
"Shit, that didn't come out right," Dean said, turning around, prepared to explain what he meant.
Lisa met his worried gaze with a sly grin. "You told me how you lived; I'm not holding it against you, Dean - as long as they don't show up on our doorstep, they don't matter."
Relief spread across his face as well as a small grin. "Don't think that's gonna be an issue. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who knows me for real."
"Good, that's the way I like it," she said grinning.
"-Me too," he replied, feeling his body begin to relax.
"You think you can get back to sleep?" She asked.
"I don't know, butI guess I should try though," he said, sliding into the bed.
Lisa stretched to turn off the light, and in the deep dark, wrapped her arm around Dean's chest, her small body warming his.
Soon her breathing evened out, becoming deep and steady; it had taken him a while to get used to it, but now he was starting to have problems sleeping if she wasn't there.
Sam, I'm sorry; this should be you. This will never be me.