A/N: This will be a series of non-linear one shots. I loved Lisa and Dean's relationship, and I don't think Lisa was given near enough credit for everything she did for Dean during the year between season 5 and 6. I've always wondered how living a normal life really went for Dean, especially while he was dealing with the grief of losing Sam, so I'm writing stories to try and document/ explore it.

I'm sure others have ideas of what may or may not have happened during that year, so I'm happy to take suggestions. It may just take me a bit to write them, but no worries! I will get to them.

Dates are weird for the year spent with Lisa and Ben.Pre season 6, the seasons matched up with real world time. In the show, it would have been roughly May 2010- August 2011, while in the real world only summer had passed. I've chosen to use the timing in the show, putting this series of one shots in 2010-2011.


September 2010, four months after Swan Song.

Dean was running.

He flew past dark trees, the dense underbrush snagging his flying feet. Branches reached for his face and arms, leaving scratches and tearing at his clothes. He could only hear his own breathing as his feet pounded the ground beneath him.

Dean focused on the path ahead of him. He knew where he needed to go.

The forest suddenly thinned out, and Dean stuttered to a stop at the edge of cliff.

"Sam!"

His call echoed out over the vast and barren terrain stretching in front of him, a stark contrast to the dense woods behind him.

Dean peered over the edge of the cliff, straining to see the bottom of the endless cavern. Because at the bottom, far out of his reach, was his brother. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he strained to hear anything that might indicate Sam's presence.

"Sam!" Dean called again between harsh breaths. The darkness swallowed his call. He leaned farther over the edge, the ground beneath him threatening to crumble away. "Sam!" he called again in desperation.

He leaned ever further, and suddenly the ground beneath his feet fell away.

He was falling, falling, falling….

Dean shot up in bed, breathing as heavily as he had been in his dream. He was drenched in sweat, eyes darting around as he took in his surroundings. A nightstand with a lamp and his watch was to his left, a dark figure under the covers to his right. As he realized where he was, a bitter mix of grief and relief filled him.

Dean swallowed hard, struggling to calm his breathing. He swung his legs out of bed and hid his face in his hands, fingers pushing into his closed eyes until starbursts appeared.

It wasn't real.

It was never real.

Sighing heavily, Dean got up and shuffled to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, careful not to make too much noise. He left the light off, preferring the strange comfort the darkness brought him. Light would reveal too much. He leaned heavily on the bathroom counter, the edge of the cold stone biting into his hands and grounding him in reality.

Sam's gone.

The weight of those two words was heavy in Dean's heart. Even now, months later, Dean needed to remind himself that his brother was dead. Or at least, Dean hoped he was dead because the alternative would be far, far worse.

Dean chuckled darkly. What kind of fucked up life did he live where he hoped his brother was dead?

At first, Sam's death hadn't truly registered with Dean. There had been no body to bury, Sam swallowed up by the literal hell hole that was Lucifer's cage. Dean still remembered the roaring of hell, the stink of decay and God knows what else. He remembered the sudden silence after Sam, possessed by Lucifer, jumped into that hole. He would have that seemingly innocent stretch of field where his brother had disappeared seared into his mind forever. It taunted him, making it seem like Sam was so close.

But Dean knew better. Sam was far beyond Dean's reach, that knowledge haunting him. As the days dragged on into months, Dean had started to accept the reality that he wasn't going to round a corner to find Sam researching at the table with his laptop. Sam would never come through the door carrying dinner from the diner down the street. He would never occupy the passenger seat of the Impala again.

But his acceptance of that fact hadn't diminished the nightmares that plagued Dean both in wakefulness and sleep. It didn't diminish his feelings of guilt, or the black pit of loss Dean felt. His only consolation was the knowledge that Sam had saved the world. It was strange to think that the fate of the world had come down to Sam, to his Sammy.

And yet, it was fitting.

Dean found himself staring in the mirror, the moonlight streaming through the small bathroom window casting his face into shadow. If Dean didn't know better, he would say he looked like a ghost. He certainly felt like one.

"Dean?"

A soft voice called through the bathroom door, pulling Dean out of his miserable thoughts. Dean didn't answer, running a hand over his face.

"Dean, can I come in?"

He sighed deeply before shuffling the few steps to the door and opening it. Lisa slowly pushed the door open, leaning on the door-jamb and crossing her arms as Dean moved back to assume his position in front of the mirror. She wore a simple dressing gown that hung open; she hadn't bothered cinching it closed. Her deep brown eyes carefully took in the man standing in front of her.

When Dean had shown up on her doorstep three months ago at 3 in the morning, Lisa knew something bad had happened. The absence of his brother was obvious, not only physically but because somehow Dean seemed less than what he had been. They hadn't really talked much that first night. Lisa had just sat with Dean on the living room coach, each of them at opposite ends, forgotten beers growing warm. It had taken many more of those nights and several glasses of whiskey before Dean had said much of anything to Lisa about what had happened, but eventually Lisa understood.

Sam was dead, and Dean was alive. It was cruelly simple.

Now, Lisa looked at the man in front of her and barely recognized him. His grief and guilt were eating away at him. His head hung low, staring down at the hands that again gripped the bathroom counter.

Dean's grief pained her. In an almost naïve way, Lisa wished she could wipe away his pain with a simple kiss. She wished there was an easy way to make the sparkle of life that she loved come back into his eyes. But it wasn't that simple. Life was never that simple. Death was never that simple.

If the past few months had taught Lisa anything it was that Winchester men were stubborn as hell when it came to accepting help. Despite her wishing Dean's pain away, Lisa knew a grief like this would take months or more likely years to heal. So, she told herself to be patient. All she could do is be there for him while he coped, pull him away from that one bottle too many, and to wait for the moment when he needed her.

It seemed that moment was now. Standing only in his boxers, Dean was suddenly exposed in more ways than he had ever been in the past several months.

Lisa moved to stand next to Dean, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dean let out a shuddering breath at her touch.

"Oh, Dean," Lisa breathed out. She gentle pulled him away from his hard stance at the counter, and pulled him into her arms. Dean buried his face in her hair, holding her tightly to him, her cheek against his bare chest just below his tattoo.

"What am I supposed to do, Lisa?" he whispered into her hair.

It was a question Lisa was expecting. She gripped him tighter, listening to his heart beat under her ear.

"You live your life."

"Why?" Dean breathed out.

"Because that's what you do. You keep going, one day at a time, and you live your life."

"Why should I get to live when Sam is dead?"

Lisa slowly pulled away from Dean, cupping his face in her hands and gently lifting so that she could look up into his face. A sadness filled his eyes that almost broke Lisa's heart. She pulled herself together. She needed to be strong for him.

"You owe it to Sam to go on. He would want you to live your life without him. He would want you to be happy. So you have to try and move on. For Sam."

"I can't," Dean whispered, tears starting to pool in his eyes.

"Yes, you can," Lisa insisted, "If you want to, you can. Give it time." A tear escaped from Dean's eye, and Lisa brushed it away with her thumb. "I'm here, Dean. You don't have to do it alone."

Dean let out a shuddering breath, and looked into Lisa's warm, brown eyes, eyes that were pleading with him to see the truth in her words. Dean knew Sam had sent him to her for this very reason. Lisa wouldn't turn him away, for some reason Dean still didn't understand.

He missed Sam. God he missed him.

"Sammy's gone."

Lisa pulled Dean's head forward so their foreheads were touching. "Yes, he is," she said softly.

"But I'm still here," Dean's voice was trembling with the effort to control his emotions, "And you're still here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

"I don't deserve…" Dean started before Lisa cut him off.

"Don't. Don't even start Dean Winchester," Lisa said sternly, "It's not about who deserves what. I'm here because I want to be here. I want to be here with you. I want to help through this. But you have to let me."

Dean was quiet for a minute. In the darkness of the night, Lisa couldn't make out the expression on his face.

"I didn't save him," he finally said quietly.

Lisa sighed. "You did save him, Dean. You did. You were there for your brother when no one else could be. You pulled him away from an evil that I can't even begin to comprehend. You made it possible for Sam to do what he has always needed to do: save the world from all those evil sons of bitches."

Dean smiled weakly at Lisa's use of his phrase. He realized that he probably referred to demons more often as "evil sons of bitches" than as demons. It was fitting, really, that she would use his words now.

"You saved the world just as much as Sam did."

Dean started to shake his head, but Lisa caught his face between her hands again to look him in the eyes.

"Dean, you did."

"I di-," Dean started before Lisa cut him off.

"You did what you were supposed to do," Lisa insisted, "You took care of Sammy."

Dean suddenly began crying in earnest, dignity forgotten as all the emotions he had been hiding for the past several months spilled over.

"Shhh, it's ok. I'm here. You're not alone." Lisa soothed, pulling him back into a hug. "I'm here." Dean said nothing, but when he didn't make a move to pull away, Lisa knew that he had finally accepted her words. He had accepted her.

Sometimes Lisa wished she was bigger, just so that she could pull Dean into a hug that would protect from all the wickedness in the world that always seemed to find him. But at that moment, it would have to be enough that she could hold him.

"I'm here."

A few minutes passed, Lisa holding Dean as he slowly regained his composure. Dean pulled away from Lisa, slightly embarrassed and wiping his hands over his eyes. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh.

Lisa must have heard his exhaustion, because she took his cold hand in her warm one and pulled him back into the bedroom. He didn't want to think any more. He didn't want to move any more.

She had him sit on the edge of the bed while she rearranged the covers that had tangled during his nightmare.

"I'm sorry."

Lisa paused in the act of putting a fresh pillowcase on Dean's pillow. "Hey," she cupped his face before saying, "You have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing." She kissed him softly on the forehead.

"C'mon," she said quietly.

Lisa guided an exhausted Dean back into bed, crawling in behind him and pulling him close.

"You're ok," she whispered as she began to card her hand through his hair. She slowly felt the tension in Dean leaving, his breath evening out as emotional and physical exhaustion pulled him into sleep.

She hoped and prayed his sleep would be dreamless.

"I'm here," she whispered to the dark.

"I'm here."


A/N: I have a lot of ideas for this series. I hope to update at least once a week, but don't hold me to that! :)