This is my take on what happened to our guys between when Sam fell into the pit and when he finally makes his way back to Dean. If you aren't privy to any of the spoilers that were offered at this year's Comic-Con International then you might want to skip this and come back to read it later as I do use the basic information they gave during the panel as to how the gap between the two seasons will be filled.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, but I like to pretend I do. Thanks to Kripke, Gamble, Edlund, Singer, Wanek, Manners, and all the people who brought Supernatural to us little folk!

And, as always - Please, please, PLEASE review! Thanks for reading!

Dean had lied to Lisa the day he'd told her that when he thought of himself happy, he thought of her and Ben. At least, that's what he kept telling himself over his glass of whiskey. But the truth was he wasn't happy, sitting at her dining room table, his hands hesitating over the dinner she'd made.

Dean had never promised Sam anything either. On that, he was holding on to the bit of truth his silence had given him, when his younger brother had told him to go find Lisa and Ben and have his "apple pie life" after... Dean shook his head, refusing to even think the words that threatened to overtake the small measure of self control he had left, and continued to think.

He'd never actually promised to stop living the hunter's life, to stop looking for a way to get Sam out of the pit. So why was he even pretending to try any of it? Dean looked up and forced a smile at Lisa as she set Ben's plate in front of him. He met the kid's eyes and tried to widen the grin. It felt too forced and, as Dean watched, Ben grimaced and dropped his gaze to his dinner plate.

"Do you need anything else, Dean?" Lisa's soft voice asked from the kitchen doorway. Dean shook his head.

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

Internally he scoffed at himself for even trying to say those words: I'm good. He'd never be good. Not while he knew the horrors that Sam was suffering down in Hell. Dean caught the sad, sympathetic look of pity on Lisa's face and anger flared up in him. He didn't deserve anyone's pity!

If it weren't for him, if Dean had been just a bit more resilient, he could have withstood the torture in hell long enough for the angel, Castiel, to get to him and stop the first seal from being broken. Sam wouldn't have killed Lilith and opened the final seal, setting Lucifer free. The Apocalypse could have just been another prophecy left unfulfilled.

But Dean had been too weak, too feeble to survive and he'd given in. Forty Years. That was what Dean had lasted at the hands of the demon, Alastair. Sam and Dean's father had endured far longer than that, almost a hundred years. But not Dean, not even close. He'd taken his punishment and then gotten down off the rack, taking Alastair's position as head sadist in the bowels of Hell. Dean had tortured and tormented hundreds - thousands - of souls during his brief stint and had grown to enjoy it.

Thinking about it all now made Dean's stomach churn, the acid building with the disgust he felt. Dean pushed the plate away, the smell of baked chicken and green beans making him want to hurl. He picked up his glass of whiskey, the warm amber liquid swirling around the cup as his shaking hand raised it to his lips. He wanted to knock back the booze, but knew that doing so would only give Lisa more reason to be concerned. So he contented himself with simply sipping the liquor, letting it roll slowly down the back of his throat, warming his insides as it moved from his empty stomach to the rest of his system.

The warmth only lasted a few seconds before the icy despair took control again. Dean shivered involuntarily and quickly looked up to see if either Ben or Lisa had noticed. Lisa was still in the kitchen and Ben's focus was solely on his food. Even from across the table, Dean could see that the kid was chewing with deliberateness, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to swallow.

Ben was nervous. This wasn't the same Dean he'd met almost two years ago. This wasn't the cool Dean who'd shown him how to get his GameBoy back from that bully, Ryan Humphrey. The one who respected Ben as person and didn't treat him like the little kid he really was. This Dean was hard and distant. This Dean was silent and...well, destroyed. It was so obvious on the poor kid's face that Dean felt another weight drop onto his shoulders as the guilt of his uncomfortable presence began to weigh heavily on Lisa and Ben.

Taking another sip of the whiskey, Dean closed his eyes and sat back against his chair, the hard wood nestling between his shoulder blades. He had never truly made any promises, and yet, there he sat in Lisa's dining room pretending to be okay. Dean knew why he was trying, why he had said goodbye to Bobby, climbed into the Impala, and headed straight for Ohio. A normal life, an "apple pie life," was all that Sam had ever truly wanted and if asking Dean to live that life for the both of them was to be Sam's final wish, then Dean was going to do his damndest to honor that wish.

So Dean forced his eyes open, forced them to meet Lisa's soft chocolate eyes as she stared down at him with concern and sympathy, and smiled. "What's for desert?"

"I bought a peach pie at the bakery. I figured we could warm it up and top it off with some vanilla ice cream," Lisa replies, her face softening with relief. She glances down at Ben who's staring at Dean again, this time with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Pie? Sweet," Ben crows happily, before digging into his dinner again, this time with fervor only a child can muster when desert is on the horizon. Neither of them catch the flicker of pain that flashes across Dean's face at Ben's words or the watery shine to his eyes as he reaches out and pulls Lisa to him, her hip resting warmly against his chest.