Title: Safe
Genre: Horror
Summary: Lisa and Ben's bodies have been moldering in the ground for a year, but they don't mind. Written for the Sharp_Teeth meme.
Warnings: Blood, gore, and character death
Dean fumbled with the item in his hands, and Lisa couldn't help the laugh that escaped. It was one more thing that she found endearing about him, how nervous and vulnerable he could be when it came to their relationship. "You're sure about this?" he asked.
She reached up and cupped his cheek, the other hand resting on Ben's shoulder. "Yes. We both are." She glanced around the yard, thankfully separated from neighbors by both distance and a high fence. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"
He shook his head. "This is the only way we can be safe and together. They'll tear us apart otherwise."
"All right then. I'm ready. What about you, Ben?"
The boy nodded, his face frightened but determined. "I don't want anything to happen to you or Mom," he said, jaw tight. "Let's do this."
Dean took a deep breath, smoothed back Ben's hair and gave Lisa a gentle kiss. Then, before he could hesitate and make it more painful, he angled the serrated blade of his favorite knife under Ben's ribcage and into the boy's heart.
He let out a quiet, startled gasp, knees buckling, and Lisa and Dean eased him to the ground near the hole. "Shh, it's ok," Lisa crooned, cradling him against her chest while Dean's rough, strong hands held his face gently. "It'll all be over soon."
It was. Ben bled out quickly, his dark eyes never leaving Dean. Lisa turned to the man she loved, watching as he shut Ben's eyelids. "We'll be waiting. Don't take too long."
"I'll be right behind you, I promise. Just have to lock everything up." There was another kiss, warm and tender, and Lisa felt the sharp pain of the knife in her own chest. Then his arms were around her, holding her close despite the blood. "I'm here, sweetheart. "I've got you. Just let go."
And then the pain was gone and she was standing over Dean, watching as he brushed a tear from his face with one bloodied hand. Ben was a few feet away, a strange woman next to him, and she moved to her son's side. "Get away from him!"
The woman looked up calmly, and Lisa knew exactly what it was. "This is a bad idea for all of you," she said, her voice low. "Do you think we can't tell what you're doing?"
"We're staying together as a family," Lisa growled, pulling Ben to her side. "Leave us alone."
The reaper shook her head. "Winchesters always have to do things their way." She settled back against the fence. "I'm waiting to talk to him before I go."
"Whatever," Lisa said, turning her attention back to Dean.
The grave they'd dug for her and Ben was deeper than usual, nine feet at least, and it had taken several nights to dig it, keeping it hidden under a tarp during the day. Dean knelt down next to her body first and used the same knife as before to cut off two of her fingers before carrying her down the ladder and carefully arranging her on her side. He followed with Ben, repeating the process and wrapping all four fingers in an old t-shirt that he set well out of the way. She thought she'd wince at that part, or at the very least when Dean grimly took his knife to one of his own fingers and let it drop down into grave, but even as he wrapped up the stump of it tightly Lisa couldn't stop watching with an almost happy calm.
She lost track of him for a little while after that; Ben had discovered the novelty of moving through walls inside the house and was insisting that she try it. The sound of the door closing reminded her of the purpose of it all, and she left Ben to his entertainment and hurried to Dean's side.
He was filthy with mud and blood and sweat and pale from blood loss underneath that, and Lisa watched him shiver when she pressed against him. "Almost done," she whispered, uncertain if he could even hear her. "Just a little while longer and then you can rest, Dean. We'll be a family forever."
Lisa trailed after him as he headed down into the cellar. His hands trembled as he knelt next to the hole they'd dug in one corner, and the blade of the knife wavered as he dispassionately removed another finger and carefully buried one of each. This had been Ben's idea, born out of Dean's tales for banishing ghosts, and it was a good one. If the Campbells ever got any bright ideas about interfering with them after all this, it would take a ton of work to get all of the bones. No one was taking her family away ever again.
Dean tied up his hand, more to avoid blood trails than anything else, and crawled across the dirt floor of the room. Lisa watched him make his unsteady way to the grave they'd prepared for him, wishing there was some way she could help him finish. She was getting a little impatient now. He was taking forever to die, but Lisa knew better than to push. Dean didn't do well when you pushed. It was better to let him get there on his own.
He eased into the narrow space feet-first, pulling the cinderblock in after him to seal it up. Lisa let herself drift through the false walls until she reached him and relished the warmth of his body. "You're keeping me waiting, baby," she told him, certain now that he could hear her. "Hurry up. We miss you."
The knife came out one last time, resting in his good, whole hand, and then there was a sigh and a now-familiar squishy sound, and they were both standing in the cellar.
Tim squinted out into the sunshine at the tall man on the doorstep. "They don't live here anymore," he repeated. "I bought the house three months ago when the bank foreclosed. Place had been abandoned for almost a year before that."
The man held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. "OK, sorry. Did they leave any kind of forwarding address or anything?"
"Buddy, they left Ieverything/I. Just disappeared one day, according to what I was told. Bank auctioned everything off." He was about to give the guy the name of the family down the street who'd bought most of the stuff when Stephen tried to brush by him. "Hey, where you going, kiddo? You're still grounded."
"It wasn't my fault!"
"And I guess your X-box just turned itself on and started playing at 3 in the morning?" Tim shook his head and turned back to the stranger once his son dragged his way back into the house. "Kids, huh?"
The guy looked like he'd just bitten into a lemon. "Yeah. Hey, you have any problems with the electricity? Flickering lights, that kind of thing?"
"Sometimes," Tim hedged. " One of the bedrooms, mostly."
"Mind if I take a look around?"
"Yeah, I do," he snapped back, repressing a shiver as a blast of cold air hit his back. Damned air conditioning. "Get the hell off my property before I call the cops." He shut the door in the guy's face. Some people were just so damned nosy.
He headed to the kitchen for a beer, rolling his eyes when he could hear the sound of voices coming from upstairs. Jenny must have the TV on again. She must have a new favorite show. Those three voices were starting to become familiar.