The fire started in the back of the house.
Dean woke with a start.
Strapped to a sterile bed, dressed in sterile clothes, and wrapped in sterile cloth. Half of his face was covered in the white bandages, now stained pink. He turned his neck to see his reflection in the window of the door of his tiny room, and winced. His neck was also wrapped, and a new burst of red flowered as he turned his head. He slowly looked down at his arms. His right hand was wrapped tightly as well, and dressings were tapped to the right side of his chest. He let his head settle back slowly, and sighed.
He fumbled for the button on a remote just in his restricted reach to call the nurse. She came in silently, set him a slow, small morphine drip, and soon scurried out. Dean let his body give in to the drug, and was almost back in oblivion, when Lisa came through his door.
She was dressed in the same bleak clothes as Dean, with the same white cloth around both of her hands. She sat in a chair to the left of Dean's bed and let them drop heavily on to her lap. Her dark hair was lank and unwashed, Dean noticed. He took assessment of his hurts and found no more burns than the ones he'd already discovered.
"Are we going to talk about this?" Lisa said slowly, looking at her hands.
"No." Dean said harshly, quickly ending the conversation.
They sat there in silence, until a nurse came in with Dean's dinner, and Lisa went to get her own food. The nurse unstrapped Dean's undamaged left arm, and he ate his food quietly. She re-attached the bonds and left with the trey. As she left the room, she turned the lights down to near darkness.
Dean, having slept through most of the day, wasn't tired enough to sleep, but wasn't so awake that he couldn't stop his mind from recalling recent events. He sat this way through the night. In the morning, an FBI agent was shown into Dean's room and settled himself in Lisa's chair. Dean mentally protested.
"Now, Dean. I know you just woke up," wrong "and I know you probably don't want to see me right now" right "but this discussion need s to happen."
"I know." Dean replied.
"Thank you. Why don't you start by telling me why you were at the home of Lisa Braeden?"
Lisa had contacted Dean and told him about her new house in Atlanta, and she wanted him and Sammy to see it. They were in Louisiana at the time, so they drove there in a day and arrived at night.
"She invited me to see her house."
"Did you noticing anything off about the house?"
The house was perfect for Lisa and Ben. Two floors; a main and a basement. Lisa and Ben's rooms were on the main floor along with a bathroom for each and a kitchen/living area. The basement had a bed and bath as well. When Dean and Sam got there, they were already too tired to do much, so they had a glass of wine with Lisa and went to bed. Dean and Lisa slept in her room, Ben spent the night at a friend's, and Sam was in the basement.
"No, she'd just moved in. Her things were barely unpacked."
"Hm..." The man scribbled something in a small black notebook, "Now, can you tell me what happened that night, Dean?"
Dean closed his eyes, grimacing.
"Lisa heard the fire first. I don't know how, I'm a pretty light sleeper but she woke me up and we went out into the living room. There were flames all around the back screen door. They'd grown to the ceiling and were coming towards us. We ran down to the basement and woke Sammy up. Lisa lead us upstairs, me in the middle, Sammy came last. We made it to the front door but I realized Sammy wasn't behind me. Lisa tried to come with me but I pushed her out onto the lawn, where I guess she contacted 911." Dean stopped for a moment," The flames were almost to the door, covering the hallway that led to the kitchen, and also the stairs. I-I tried to fight through. I tried to find Sammy, but Lisa pulled me out. She pushed me down and rolled me around, and then I blacked out. I woke up yesterday."
The man nodded and scribbled a little more before looking up. "The fire department put out the fire and searched for a source, but none was found."
Dean nodded along, but he knew that this agent knew what he really wanted to know.
"They also found your brother." Dean almost smiled. Almost. But the man kept talking. "They found his body on the stairs, laying curled in the fetal position. They had to ID the body by dental records."
The man stopped talking and abruptly stood and walked out. He had what he came for, so he left Dean in peace.
The older Winchester, or should I say the only Winchester sat, staring at the wall. He vaguely remember Lisa coming in to sit in the man's seat. After a while he looked at her. She had her hands in her lap again. Her head was bowed and her dirty hair fell across her face, shielding it from Dean's view. Dark drops appeared on her bandages and Dean heard her softly crying. When Dean looked back at the wall, he realized he too was crying. He lifted his left arm, noticing it was freed, and ran the back o his hand across his cheek. When he saw the tears on his hand he broke down.
Dean Winchester cried silently.
He felt a stiff hand touch his shoulder.
"Dean.." Lisa said softly. Not judgmental and accusing, just soft. She was letting him cry, letting him grieve as if no one were watching.
"He was my baby brother... he was my best friend..." Dean whispered to her when he could steady his voice.
Lisa looked at him silently, with her hands now covering his undamaged one.
AN- I regret to say that the circumstances of this fic are not fiction. The fire that took a man's brother but left him and his girlfriend alive actually happened, a couple weeks ago.