Title: Where Do We Draw The Line?
Characters: Dean Winchester, JoAnna Harvelle, Bobby Singer
Word Count: 4,052
Rating: PG-13 to R (depending on chapter)
Warnings/Spoilers: If you've seen all five seasons you're safe. If you've at least seen up to Abandon All Hope, you're safe too.
Summary: So why do we keep up this charade? And how do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait? What does tomorrow want from me? What does it matter what I see? If it can't be my design, tell me where do we draw the line?

Official Disclaimer: All Supernatural characters and plots belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. I do not hold stock either the man or the company. Dean Winchester, Robert Singer, and any other character featured are NOT mine.

"You need to wake up now."

The body slid against him, and Dean couldn't help the smile. "Five more minutes?" He begged as his arms wound themselves around his wife. "Please?" She turned in his grasp, and he took a deep breath of her lilac scented hair. "Please?" He asked again as he found the nape of her neck and bit down lightly.

If it were any other day of the week, she would be allowing herself to revel in the feel of his hands sliding underneath his old ACDC shirt and over her braless chest. Any other morning she wouldn't have to remind herself of the rush that she would have to go through to get everyone where they need to be. His hands shifted lower, and his hand nicked the button of her jeans as the other maneuvered her hips so they were pinned by his.

His lips sucked on her collarbone and she moaned even as she pulled away from him. "Someone has to get the kids breakfast." With her hands planted firmly on top of his, she lifted, gaining enough room to maneuver out from under him. She moaned again as his hand slid over her stomach between the fabric of her jeans and her flesh. "And you promised a certain someone that you'd go to his soccer game today."

Dean grumbled, rolling over and burying his head in the pillow on what he guessed was her side of the bed. "I did, didn't I?" He asked no one in particular. He'd been gone for two weeks this time, longest trip in a while, and he remembered briefly promising that he wouldn't miss the first game of the season for the world. He felt the bed dip again as she crawled over to him. Settling herself on his back and out of his reach. "How long do I have?"

"Long enough for a shower." There was a kiss placed on the back of his neck, and her body moved just as he lifted himself up onto his hands. "I already turned the water on, hurry up and I'll bring you up some coffee." His eyes opened then, just long enough to follow the flip of blonde hair and a jean clad rear to the bedroom door. His eyes closed just as the door started to swing. "Get your ass in gear Dean-o!"

His eyes opened even as his body convulsed upright.

The room was dark, and he was alone.

Of course he was; he cursed himself. They'd moved to Lawrence a week ago, and Lisa was doing twenty four hour rotations for the next three weeks to catch up on her continuing education credits so she could meet the requirements to transfer her license to the state of Kansas. He rolled over, planting his hand firmly on Lisa's pillow as he checked her clock. Six fifteen. He had another ten minutes before the alarm was set to go off. Ten after that before he had to wake Ben up to get him ready for school. And he was almost certain that he had forgotten to rotate the laundry before going to bed.

Somewhere out there, demons everywhere were mocking him.

Forcing himself out of bed, Dean ran a hand through his hair. He shut off the alarm on his way to the bathroom, cursing under his breath at the normalcy of it all. He left the light off, making his way by memory and pulling the shower door open while reaching across to start the tap.

Dean attempted to shake off the dream even as he stepped into the hot spray. It was the third day in a row that the vision had slipped past his guards, and always when Lisa was at work. It was a good thing though, he reminded himself. Only once in the last week had he woken up without her name on his lips, the smell of gun powder and lilacs floating through his mind.

Get your ass in gear, Dean-O.

He could hear her mocking him, mentally reminding him that standing beneath a burning tap wasn't going to get Ben up and ready for school. He reached for the loofah that Lisa had gotten him and groaned when he realized that she had thrown out his soap again in favor of the body wash that she said she liked on him. He laughed to himself, knowing for a fact that in his dream world his trusty bar of Dial would still be in the shower.

Again he cursed.

If he hadn't promised Sam that he would give up their old life, he would be tracking down the son of a bitch that was giving him glimpses of the life he knew he wouldn't have and handing them a one way ticket to hell. And he would most likely be taking his frustrations out on lesser demons along the way.

Get your ass in gear.

He washed the lather off of his body then, squirting shampoo onto his hair and scrubbing quickly before forcing his head under the water again. Although a thirty minute shower would feel really great right about now, he definitely didn't have the time. He needed to get moving. He needed to get Ben to school.

Jeans and a t-shirt, no layers anymore, and Dean was knocking on the door of the boy once thought to be his son. The ten year old groaned, even as Dean opened the door. "Rise and shine buddy." He tapped the door again, and moved to the window. He pushed the curtains aside and looked out into the rain.

Third day in a row for that too.

"Fifth grade calls, Ben." He watched as the boy in question twisted and pulled the covers of his fire engine red comforter over his head. Dean laughed, remembering a time when he watched his brother try to do the same thing. He grabbed the end, pulling quickly and Ben bolted upright.

"I don't wanna go to school." He grumbled, plopping back onto the bed. "Can't you just tell Mama I'm sick?"

Dean chuckled, "Sure I can." He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the dresser. "Then I'll hand her my forty-five, and tie the knots when she decides to string us both up." Ben rolled his eyes from the bed and Dean nodded, yeah he was probably being over-dramatic. Chances were that all it would take was a phone call, and Lisa would let him stay home. Not to mention his weapons were in his father's old storage unit on the other side of town, and he had lied and told Lisa that he'd shipped them to Bobby's when they'd moved. "Up and dressed," he commanded lightly, moving to the door. "And stop rolling your eyes at me."

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, Dean ran a hand over his head again. The timer on the coffee pot had started early again, almost as if someone had pushed the 'on' button for him, and again he thought about the thousands of people that he knew could be playing with his head. Then he crossed off the ones that were dead. Then he reminded himself that Castiel had told him that he was taken off the grid permanently, or at least as long as he didn't hunt anymore. He filled his mug, black, always black, and then reached for the cabinet on the other side of the sink for a bowl and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer on the way to the table.

He'd been out of the game for seven months, and every day it was getting harder to remind himself why. When he had gutted the weapons area of the Impala shortly after getting to Lisa's, it had taken him a month to take Sam's duffle out of the back seat. Not that it had mattered. Lisa hadn't minded that Dean took Ben to school in his baby every day, but she had insisted that her Tahoe be used for any 'family expeditions' that came up. It damn near killed him to tow it to Kansas, simply because she refused to let him hire a mover to drive the U-haul.

She was meant for the open road, he tried not to remind himself. Carpools and picnics were almost beneath her.

The thump of boots on the stairs announced that Ben had successfully gotten himself dressed, a part of their morning routine that Dean was glad had carried from the house in Illinois to Kansas, and Ben grumbled a "good morning" as he poured cereal into his bowl.

"Morning to you, too." Dean sipped his coffee as he handed the half gallon of milk to the boy. "Schedule says you've got a math test today." He threw a nod to the calendar that Lisa kept on the fridge. With her working long hours, it was the only way that they all could keep on the same page.

"Math sucks." Ben took a bite of his Lucky Charms as Dean set himself down in a chair.

"School sucks." Dean agreed, finishing off the mug and leaning against the table. "You still have to go, and I still have to take you." He watched Ben shrug, still not fully conscious. "I'll be at the garage this afternoon though, so you'll have to take the bus there."

It had taken only a few months for Lisa to see that city life didn't agree with him. He was jumpy, almost too much so, and she knew without being told that on the floor on his side of the bed was the Colt. He'd told her six weeks ago, that his father's body shop was up for sale. It had been news that came down from a friend of a friend that he was willing to bet his life savings that Missouri had put up to calling him. And Lisa had offered up a part of her savings to help him buy. With the Winchester name on top of the shop again, Dean had seemed to thrive.

The boy came alive then. "Can I help you work on the cars?" He asked with a mouth full of cereal. Even had Dean thought to say no to him, he wouldn't have heard it.

Dean laughed. "I think that can be arranged." Thunder ripped through the clouds and Dean was suddenly glad he parked in the garage the night before. "Now hurry up. You don't want to be late."

She fell from heaven.

It was less dramatic than she would have thought it would be. The sky didn't open up and there was no choir of angels welcoming her back to Earth. One second she was wiping up the bar, getting ready for another night and the next she was landing on wet pavement, her body convulsing as lightening lit up the sky.

"What the Hell?" The taxi driver had to swerve to miss her, and he could have sworn that she wasn't there a moment ago. "God damned rain." He cried as he raced over to where the woman was laying across the road. He managed to roll her over just enough to see the gash in her side, blood seeping out from an Ace bandage. "Someone call an ambulance!" He watched as her eyes opened slightly, her lips parting just enough to choke out a cough. "You're gonna be just fine." He promised.

Help arrived sooner than the cabbie thought it should have, a gift from God in his opinion, and he was shoved out of the way as the paramedics pulled the faded green jacket from her shoulders and ripping the remains of a t-shirt layered over a tank top away from the wound. "Radio ahead." The first paramedic shouted to the one pulling the stretcher out of the van. "At least two bags of O neg and a full OR prepped when we get there."

Lisa hadn't even pulled the curtain shut from treating the ten year old with a radical skateboard injury before the call was out for any available intensive care nurse to be sent to the ambulance loading dock. "Incoming!" An orderly shouted as he grabbed the chart from her and pointed her to the doors.

"Caucasian female," the paramedic shouted over the noise. "Late twenties: multiple lacerations to the left abdominal." He situated the bag of fluids on the patients shoulder, and Lisa fell into step next to the trauma nurse they picked up on their way to the elevator. The rest of the vitals filled her brain as the young woman opened her eyes.

"Mom?" She tried to reach up to the arm on her shoulder. "I…"

"She's coming around." Her eyes blinked open once; then again before she decided that inside the building it was too bright. "Can you hear me?"

"Mom?" It couldn't have been her mother, the voice was too high, the woman holding her hand had hair too dark, but she kept trying to reach all the same; to touch something tangible.

"You're at Lawrence General." The dark haired woman smiled as nicely as possible. "I'm Lisa; can you tell me your name?"

Lawrence.

Her brain went into overdrive trying to decide where she knew that name from.

Lawrence.

Kansas.

Winchester.

"D –"she choked, the pain from her side catching in her throat and forcing air into and out of her lungs simultaneously. "De…" Again she couldn't get the word out of her mouth. Her entire body convulsed and she sobbed openly.

"It's okay." Lisa ran her hand over the woman's slowly, trying to add some comfort to the fast trip to the operating suite. "You're safe now." The woman's eyes locked with hers briefly and she tried to smile reassuringly. "It's okay."

"She's going into shock!"

Lisa's hand was forced away from the girl's as a surgical nurse took over, reaching for the wound at the same time a doctor shouted that it was time to intubate. The girl was shoved through the double doors to the OR as Lisa tried to catch her breath.

She could swear the dark eyes of the girl on the gurney were still watching her.

It was quite possibly the worst looking wound that Lisa ever had to dress. The nine hour surgery had been a success, and the girl would live, but the scar, which was at least six inches wide and ran from the bottom of her left breast to her hip, was something that not even a plastic surgeon would be able to hide completely. The woman was lucky to be alive.

There was a rustling as Lisa double-checked the gauze and then picked the clipboard off of the tray that she had brought in with her to chart the girl's vitals. "Doctor's didn't think you'd be awake for another few days." Lisa wandered around the room slowly, trying to appear as non-confrontational as possible. "The surgery went well; you get to keep your vital organs." She double checked the drip and then turned her attention to the chart in front of her.

The woman's eyes opened quickly, and with a grunt of pain, she shifted. "Better than an Ace." She muttered harshly.

"You're going to have a nasty scar though," Lisa just kept talking as she finished her notes, as if she hadn't heard her. "My boyfriend tells my son all the time that they show character. It may make bikini season a little rough, though." Her brain was telling her to shut up, but Lisa couldn't stand the silence.

"Are you done yet?" The blonde in the bed shifted again, trying her hardest to gage just how bad the damage was. It would help if the gauze wasn't wrapped so tightly. Then again, like the nurse had said, she wasn't even supposed to be awake.

There was a pause, and Lisa tried her hardest not to feel the other girl's anger. "I'm Lisa." She pushed the hair out of her face and then propped the clipboard on her hip. "Lisa Braeden." She shifted her hip. "You were pretty out of it when they brought you in. Is there a name I can write on your chart?"

"…" For a split second, she didn't know what to say. She knew who she was, where she came from. She could feel her entire existence before she landed in the middle of Lawrence, Kansas, but she couldn't remember her name. "I…" There was another pause and she hissed at the pain in her side. "…Couldn't tell you."

Lisa smiled. "That's okay." She set the clip board on the tray. "I'm sure it'll come to you." The pager on her hip beeped and she double checked the code. "I've got to go finish my rounds, but I'll check back in on you before I leave, okay?"

The blonde nodded.

And Lisa was gone.

Her eyes slammed shut and she fought the urge to flail her arms and legs and scream until her lungs were sore. It wouldn't help. She could almost hear her mother tell her that it would only make her hurt more.

Her mother…

It was yet another memory without a name. Taking a deep breath, she cursed every available higher power for the half assed miracle that she seemed to land herself in.

The back door shut, and he shifted slowly, trying not to jostle the delicate warmth that was on his chest. He could hear her kick off her boots next to the coat rack, dropping her keys on the side table on her way through the hall. "Disaster averted." She chuckled as she checked the entryway to the den. The lights were off, in the kitchen as well, and a quick check of her watch would tell her that her son was already in bed. "Anyone home?"

Dean thought about standing, and then he thought about the screaming that would most likely come from it, so he stayed relaxed in the lounger in the living room. "In here." He said softly, flexing his arm so it wouldn't fell asleep. "How was your night?"

He knew she had made it to the entryway when she laughed. "Mix up in the alcohol shipment." She pulled off her leather jacket, shrugging it off of her shoulders and laying it behind his head. "Forty-five minutes on the phone with some jackass from New York just for him to tell the delivery guy to pull what I needed from the remaining in the back of his truck." She bent down and kissed her husband's head and then slid her arm across his chest. "How long you been laying here?"

"Put the boy to bed about an hour ago." Dean pushed his arms straight out in front of them and felt his elbows pop. "Settled down and couldn't move."

His wife just laughed. "Poor baby." She shifted the weight of her infant daughter in her arms and sat herself down on her husband's lap. "Do I want to know what you fed them for dinner?"

"Hamburgers on the grill." He leaned up, wrapping his arms around his wife and daughter and kissing the nape of her neck with an open mouth. "And Sami here had a few mashed up French fries and whatever was in that bottle Mama left her." He kissed the top of his daughter's head then. "Ate it up and went right to sleep."

"And you couldn't put her in her room?" The half-serious smirk was the only way he could tell she was more amused than upset about the situation.

Dean smiled, and pulled her closer to him. "I don't get these moments often." He reminded her.

There was a giggle, and he felt her convulse under his fingertips. "You can stay home more, ya know." She rotated her daughter in her arms and moved to stand. "Your kids aren't the only ones that you can spend more time with."

"You know the mission." It was all he said in response.

She nodded carefully, almost knowingly. "That I do." Looking from her daughter to her husband, she smiled. It had been years since the mission had been his entire life. He was fighting alone more often than not, but he spent more time standing still than he did on the road now. That didn't mean that she wanted to be away from him at all. She just understood. "I'm taking this one to bed."

"You need some help?" He was up and immediately behind her before she even got to the stairs, his hands on her hips and his back pressed against hers.

"This I've got." She laughed, cradling her daughter as his arms held her more firmly. "You need a shower."

"Dean!"

He sat up on the couch, knowing that chances were likely that it he was hearing her voice, than he was about to get his ass chewed for the dishes in the sink and his feet on her brand new IKEA coffee table. "Yes'm!" He coughed, rubbing his eyes quickly to focus on Lisa's scrubbed form.

"I said: You need a shower." When Dean's eyes bugged, she knocked his feet off the coffee table and sat down next to him. "You smell like a garage."

"I work in a garage." Dean reminded her quickly, wrapping his arm around her waist. She'd pulled off her jacket and most likely left it on the hook in the kitchen, and he finally noticed the dried blood that stained her purple scrubs. "ER again?" He asked with a nod.

Lisa sighed and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "Would you believe that I forgot to replace the scrubs I brought home yesterday to wash?" It was a rhetorical question, and they both knew it. "All this is actually from the one major emergency case this morning."

"She bled out on you?" He was prepared to be sympathetic. Lisa had been a nurse for as long as they had been together, before that actually, and he had long since learned what was needed when she had had a bad day. "I'm really sorry baby."

That was her boyfriend, Lisa smiled. Ever compassionate, even to strangers that he would never meet. "Nine hours in surgery." She shook her head. "She's going to have a horrible scar for the rest of her life, but she'll be able to live it." There was a smile on her face as she recalled the blonde in the Intensive Care Unit. "She'd needed a blood transfusion, several actually, but she was lucky that it was a straight stitch."

Dean nodded, admittedly only half listening. He understood that she didn't need consoling, and now that she had moved into decompress mode, he had tuned her out. Dean shut his eyes, trying not to allow his dream to replay behind them, and ran his hand up and down Lisa's arm as she told him of the rest of the day. He muttered incoherently and said non-committal words at what appeared to be the appropriate moments, and it wasn't until she had moved to stand up that he realized that she had stopped speaking.

"Do I want to know what you two ate for dinner? She asked as she pulled her scrub top over her head. The tank top she wore underneath rode up a little, and Dean had to remind himself that he was a lucky guy.

"Steaks on the grill." He told her after a second. The sense of déjà vu was getting harder to ignore. Only he wasn't in one of the recliners that reminded him or Bobby's and there wasn't a child between them. "Yours is in the microwave when you're hungry." He watched her smile and forced his to mimic it. "Ben made the mashed potatoes after he got done with his homework."

Lisa's smile only got wider. She was so happy that Dean was slipping back into a normal life after so long. "I've changed my mind." She said after a moment, watching Dean's eyes narrow on her. "We both need a shower."

He was on his feet, scooping her off of hers before she could say anything else. "Best offer I've heard all day, sweetheart." He kissed her soundly then, forcing any other thoughts out of his head.

This is just a trial to see if anyone will read it. I'll post more next week if the answer is yes.