I tried. I really, really tried to be patient and wait until September to see what happens to the boys, but alas, it was not to be. Thoughts ran rampant through my brain and this is the result. Yes, I know it will be completely AU by the Season 6 premiere and I have no problem with that whatsoever.

That being said, I do not believe that after everything, God would allow Sam to suffer as long as four long months and then suddenly decide to give him a break, and I also can't believe Sam is cruel enough – misguided intentions aside - to let Dean continue to grieve and believe he is suffering in Hell for that amount of time either. So, this is my solution. It will be presented in four acts just like an episode, so imagine commercials of your choice between each. And now…

Oh Yeah, Life Goes On

Act I

Dean sat on the front steps and raised the bottle to his lips, the last swallow of beer already warm. He really had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, but, as he looked up, he noticed the street lamps – with the exception of the one directly in front of Lisa's house - were beginning to come on and the sky was starting to darken into evening.

He sighed, one month down… the rest of his life to go.

He set the bottle on the porch with the others and let his arms fall between his knees, his head hanging. Slowly he brought one hand up and rubbed at the seemingly constant ache behind his eyes. The last month had seemed like an eternity.

It probably had been for Sam.

Dean was the one person who actually knew what his brother was going through… and all he could do was sit here and think about it.

Because he'd made a promise.

A god damned stupid promise.

God he hated this. He didn't really remember the first few days after he'd shown up on Lisa's porch in Cicero. He supposed he was in some kind of shock – but it had slowly worn off and he'd been faced with the reality of the rest of his life. He'd spent most of the time after that simply skulking around Lisa's house trying not to think about what had happened back at Stull. He'd gone with her to Ben's baseball games, even took the kid to practice a couple of times. A chance encounter with one of the kids' dads, which had resulted in an unappreciated offer to buy the Impala, had made him shy away from the 'normal' people who inhabited Lisa's world. He wasn't ready to move on. He wasn't ready to pretend to be something he wasn't.

He wasn't ready to let go of his life.

Of Sam.

He wasn't sure if he ever would be.

He'd even tried making himself useful by doing odd jobs around the house and going on errands. The trip to the grocery store had been a disaster. Not only had he managed to purchase the wrong brands of just about everything on Lisa's very long list, but the whole experience had driven home just how useless and utterly unprepared he was for the real world.

He couldn't do normal.

He couldn't even get a job.

It's not like he couldn't find anything, but he'd had to face the fact that it wasn't easy to scrounge up a new identity that would withstand close scrutiny for a long period of time. Dean Winchester was dead. He'd need to get a new social security number, not to mention new I.D. and credit cards. And then they'd have to explain it all to Ben… like a ten year old was going to understand why his mom's new live-in friend was suddenly using a different name. Dean sincerely cared about the kid, but… he wasn't sure he was ready for any of this.

He sighed as he reached for the six-pack, realizing the bottles were all empty. Beer wasn't really cutting it anyway. He knew Lisa wasn't thrilled about his drinking, but so far she hadn't actually said anything. She seemed to understand that he was going through something that couldn't just be smoothed over and forgotten with a few hugs and a couple of words of comfort. So, she had kept quiet about the amount of alcohol he was consuming, only trying to make sure he ate and slept – although he wasn't really doing much of either. He appreciated her concern, but he wasn't used to anyone actually watching out for his wellbeing.

Well, nobody except Sam.

Who was gone.

Who was destined to spend eternity locked inside a cage with the devil himself.

God he needed a drink.

Pushing himself from the steps, he shuffled forward, pulling his keys from his pocket as he approached the Impala parked at the curb in front of the house. He'd made a run to a liquor store across town while Lisa was at work, ashamed of his weakness, but acknowledging the need. He didn't want to feel the grief he'd felt back at Stull. Even with his face broken, his brain concussed and more than likely fatally damaged before Cas had healed him, he had been overwhelmed by the aching emptiness he'd felt at the knowledge that Sam had succeeded in his quest for redemption and was now utterly and completely lost to him.

He didn't want to go on. He didn't want this life. But a promise is a promise, and Dean had never gone back on one made to his brother. So he was determined to try. But that didn't mean he didn't need a little help now and then… especially now.

He raised the trunk of the Chevy and reached in to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels from his stash when a voice came out of the darkness of the night.

"Excuse me, could you tell us how to get to Carson Street?"

Dean jumped, his grief, coupled with the beer he'd consumed, dulling his senses enough that someone was able to approach without him noticing. He stepped back and peered around the open trunk, his heart in his throat at the thought that his defenses were so far out of kilter.

A middle-aged couple smiled pleasantly at him and he took a deep breath to settle his nerves before stepping around the car.

"We're sorry, dear," the slightly plump woman cooed. "We didn't mean to startle you."

"No," her husband chimed in. He stepped forward a hand held out in greeting. "We're in town visiting our son and his wife and managed to get ourselves a bit lost."

Dean returned the smile half-heartedly. "Uh, no. Its okay." He shrugged, sidestepping the man's outstretched hand. "I'm kind of new here myself. Afraid I'm not gonna be much help with directions."

The man waved the hand and took another step forward. "No worries. We'll find our way. Sorry again to startle you."

"No," Dean dismissed the apology. "I just wasn't really paying attention." He started to turn but stopped short when the man stepped directly in front of him.

"That kind of distraction is dangerous for a hunter, Dean." The man's voice deepened and his eyes turned black. "Especially when you're all alone."

He lunged forward, grabbing the back of Dean's neck and pulled, causing the younger man to loose his balance. As he fell forward, Dean instinctively reached behind his back for a weapon, cursing under his breath when he realized he had none. His balance compromised, he felt himself slammed against the side of the Impala, his chest taking the brunt of the collision, his breath forced from his lungs. Turning quickly, he was able to dodge the fist coming toward him, stepping sideways, away from the car, only to feel the weight of the woman latch onto his back.

Turning in an attempt to dislodge the possessed woman, he was pushed forward by her bulk, his head connecting with the edge of the Impala's door, his vision blurring as he fought to collect himself. Squeezing his eyes closed, he shook his head, trying to clear the dark spots that were crowding his perception, knowing he couldn't afford to leave himself exposed. He turned again, his ears ringing, his arm against the big car for balance. He wiped a hand across his forehead, noting the dark streak of blood smeared on his palm. Looking up, he growled, taking a wobbly step toward the woman when a dark shape pushed him back, almost completely blocking his view.

He landed hard against the Impala, his head spinning, his chest aching as he concentrated on drawing in harsh breaths and keeping his brain from leaking out of his ears. He was vaguely aware of an exchange of words, a scuffle of feet, then the familiar whoosh of demonic smoke rushing past. He forced his head up in time to see both of his attackers fall to the ground, the black smoke quickly disappearing into the darkness. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he managed to straighten, his eyes widening as he stared at his rescuer.

The large figure in front of him turned slowly and Dean felt the ache in his chest deepen as his heart constricted in longing. "Sam?"

He held out a hand, grabbing onto the familiar brown jacket as he swayed, his vision swimming. He stared at the material, not knowing whether to believe this dream was real, until the deep, familiar voice made his breath catch in his throat.

"Hey, Dean."

…

Sam leaned forward slightly as his brother's eyes rolled back and he pitched forward onto the younger man's shoulder. Wrapping an arm around Dean' legs, Sam hoisted him up into a fireman' carry and slowly turned toward the house. He stepped around the formerly possessed couple and hurried down the short walkway, opening the front door and entering the dark room without knocking.

The moonlight cast enough illumination into the small house and Sam quickly saw a couch to his left. Moving across the room, he gently lowered Dean onto the cushions, placing a small throw pillow beneath his head.

A quiet gasp from behind had him turning, instinctively placing himself between the new threat and his brother.

"Sam?"

Lisa stood at the bottom of the staircase. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, obviously ready for bed. She stared at him with an expression of wariness before her eyes tracked down to the unconscious man on the sofa. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but when she looked back to Sam, her eyes said all she needed to say.

"He's okay," Sam assured her. "He hit his head, but he's okay." He looked back at his prone brother, his voice softening at the sight. "I have to… " He nodded toward the large picture window behind the couch and Lisa glanced outside, her eyes going wide at the sight of the older couple moving about slowly on her front lawn. Her attention was drawn back to Dean's brother when he continued to speak in a soft voice. "Can you get a wet cloth? His head is bleeding and we need to check to see if he's gonna need stitches."

Lisa nodded, still unable to speak to the man before her.

Sam sighed, shifting nervously as she continued to stare at him like he was a ghost.

"I know," he gave her a tired grin. "I'll explain everything… or whatever you want to know. Just please, take care of Dean. I'll be right back."

She watched him step back out the door and approach the couple who were struggling to their feet outside. Shaking herself from her stupor, she hurried to the kitchen and wetted a towel before returning to the living room and perching herself on the edge of the couch. As she dabbed at the blood on Dean's face, her eyes were drawn to the scene outside.

She'd only met Dean's brother briefly when they'd returned Ben after he'd been taken by the changelings. He'd waited in the driveway while she and Dean spoke inside the house, but she'd made a point of thanking him and giving him a hug before they left. He'd seemed like a nice guy and, from what she could remember from their encounter in '98, Dean had been extremely close to his brother, a fact supported by how devastated he'd been when he'd shown up on her doorstep a week ago believing he'd lost his only family.

She watched as Sam helped the couple to their feet, holding the woman's arm as he spoke to them. He leaned down, knees bent in an effort to lessen his bulk, an obvious attempt to make the other two feel less threatened. She wasn't sure what exactly had happened – and if she was completely honest, wasn't sure if she wanted to know – but it looked like Sam had things under control for the moment. As soon as the older couple moved off up the street, Sam turned toward Dean's car and sifted through the trunk for a moment before closing it.

A soft moan brought her attention back to the man lying on her couch. Dean's eyes were open half-mast, his pupils large in the scant moonlight shining through the window.

"Shhh," she said softly. "It's okay. You're okay."

"Lisa?" Dean's voice sounded so young and lost, almost like it had when he'd knocked on her door a week ago.

"Yeah," she responded, using the towel to wipe the seeping blood from the cut on his forehead. "How do you feel?"

Dean shifted, looking around the room, finally registering where he was. The sadness that overtook his features was heartbreaking. "It wasn't real, was it?"

Lisa swallowed hard, not sure what to say. She watched as Dean's eyes squeezed shut, his head turning to bury his face into the back of the couch. "God… I wanted it to be real…."

"Dean?"

Lisa jumped as Sam came back through the door, hurrying across the floor and kneeling in front of the couch. He placed a hand on his brother's arm and waited for Dean to turn back toward him.

Lisa sat back as Dean's eyes raked over his brother's face, not wanting to intrude on such an intimate moment. She felt a pang of envy at the way Dean looked at his brother, the love and relief that shone in the green depths. It was a look she'd hoped he'd have for her one day. She knew he cared for her and for Ben, but whether it was love or not was still too early to tell. From the intense emotion she could see in his eyes right now, she knew she would wait – even if it took a lifetime – for him to look at her with even a fraction of that passion.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes glued to his brother's as if searching for something only he could see. "Is it really you in there?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, man. It's me. I have no idea how, but…"

Dean must have seen whatever he was looking for because he pushed himself up from the couch and threw his arms around his brother. "I don't really care how, Sammy. I'm just glad you're okay."

Lisa stood and backed away, allowing Sam to shift to the edge of the couch and wrap his own arms around his brother. "I know. Me, too."

They sat like that for a few moments until Sam shifted and Dean finally released him. Sam shoved a pillow behind his brother's back and helped him ease back onto the cushion.

"How's your head?"

As if suddenly remembering something, Dean jumped and shifted around, focusing on the front lawn outside the living room window. "They were demons…" he said, his eyes darting from one side of the yard to the other, a frown on his face as he tried to remember what had just happened.

"Hey, Dean," Sam coaxed his brother back around and raised a hand to examine the cut on his head. "It's okay. They're gone."

Dean looked back at his brother then finally focused on Lisa standing behind Sam. Her arms were crossed and she looked scared, kind of hovering as if she wasn't quite sure what to do. He reached out a hand and she stepped forward, latching onto it, kneeling next to the couch in a kind of place swap with Sam. "Hey, it's okay babe." He pulled her to him and she collapsed against his chest, a soft sob escaping from her throat.

After a moment she pulled back, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

Dean pulled her back to him, running a hand down her soft hair as he grinned up at his very alive little brother. "Yeah. I am now."

….

"So," Dean set his coffee cup on the table and leaned forward, his eyes not making contact with his brother's. The occasion called for something a bit stronger than coffee, but seeing as how well his last attempt at pulling a bottle from his stash had gone, they'd opted for something readily available inside the house. Not to mention the fact that both Lisa and Sam had forbid him to drink anything more with a head injury.

Like one mother hen wasn't enough.

"So," Sam echoed.

Lisa looked from one man to the other, sensing that whatever conversation they were about to have would be easier if they were alone.

"Look," she pushed her chair back from the table and stood. "It's been an…. interesting night." She looked at Sam and smiled. "Sam, you're welcome to the couch, Dean can show you where everything is." At Sam's nod of gratitude, she stepped around the table and placed a kiss on Dean's upturned lips. "You sure you're okay?"

Dean nodded, returning her smile. "I'm good."

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him for a moment, finally nodding, accepting his answer for the truth. "Okay." She turned back to Sam. "I'm glad you're okay, Sam. Goodnight."

Both men said their goodnights and watched as she walked out of the kitchen and up the stairway.

"She's great," Sam smiled at his brother, whose eyes stayed on the darkened staircase for a moment.

"Yeah," Dean agreed in soft voice. "Yeah, they both are." He turned back to his brother, his gaze seeking and holding Sam's. "So… are you really? Okay I mean?"

Sam sighed before answering. "Yeah, man. I am."

Dean shook his head, not completely buying it. "Sammy, it's okay. I'm probably the one person on earth who can understand what you went through –"

"I wasn't in Hell, Dean. At least I don't remember being in Hell."

Dean's eyes widened at the comment. "Come again?"

"I don't remember."

Dean stared at his brother for a moment, his yes narrowed. "come on, man. I already tried that jedi mind trick, remember? It didn't work then and it's not gonna work now.'

Sam shrugged and shifted back against the wooden chair. "Seriously, Dean. I'm not lying. I remember Lucifer taking over my body and I remember what happened at Stull…" he swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to his hands as if expecting to still see his brother's blood on them. After a moment he raised his eyes back to Deans. "I don't know if it was right away or not exactly, but all I remember is when I fell into the hole, I wasn't alone inside my head, and then suddenly I was. I've had a little time to think about it and I think it was because I was still alive – I mean, my soul was still attached to a living, breathing body." Sam's voice took on the lilting tone it always did when he was beginning to explain a theory. "When you went to Hell, the hounds tore you apart. You were dead. It was just your soul that was sent downstairs."

Dean cringed at the memory. "Yeah, I kind of remember that part, Sammy. What are you getting at?"

"When I fell into the cage, I was still alive. My guess is that only souls that are no longer tethered to this life can pass through."

"So you, what? Bounced back?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess."

"But Lucifer was still trapped."

Sam nodded. "He's not in me anymore. At least I can't feel him."

Dean thought for a moment before responding. "So you think his… essence… or whatever was trapped because he wasn't really 'tethered' to you? Because he was just hitching a ride?"

Sam shrugged again, his expression grim. "I have no idea, man. I just know that one minute I was falling into the pit and the next thing I remember I was back on good old terra firma."

Dean frowned, his mind working at what his brother had told him. "So… you don't think you were ever really in Hell."

Sam shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes carefully trained on the empty cup on the table in front of him. "If you weren't in Hell…" he slowly raised his head, his eyes tracking up to his brother's face. "Where exactly have you been for the past week, Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard, his own eyes shifting away from his brother's gaze.

"At first… I… I don't know. But for the last week…here."

Dean's eyebrows climbed and he leaned forward a bit. "Excuse me?"

Sam waved a hand toward the front of the house, still avoiding his brother's intense stare. "Here," he repeated. "Around."

Dean waited until Sam's eyes met his before asking his next question. "Are you telling me that you've been… around… for like a week and didn't think that maybe it would be a good idea to let me know?"

Sam dropped his gaze again. "I wanted you to have a chance, Dean."

"A chance? A chance at what? A chance to live a life believing my brother was suffering? You think I was ever going to be okay with that, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "I thought… I hoped you'd be able to move on."

Dean snorted out a harsh laugh that held no humor. "Move on? Damnit, Sam, I spent every second of every day imagining what kind of torment you were going through. And, if you remember, I'm probably the only one on this freakin' planet who could even come close to knowing how bad it really is." He cringed at the volume of his voice and made an effort to reign in his anger. "All I wanted to do was to walk into Hell and find you. But I was stuck in a promise you made me make." He shook his head, his face flushed as he watched his brother. "I could never forget, Sam. Never. How could you believe I could?"

Sam finally looked up and Dean could see the regret shining in his eyes. "I just wanted you to have a life, Dean. That's all. When I popped back up at Stull, you were gone. I hoped you'd keep your promise so I found my way here. I saw you…" His smiled shakily. "I saw you at the table. You and Lisa and Ben… you looked… you looked so normal. I just didn't want to take that chance away from you."

Dean leaned an elbow on the table and rubbed at his forehead just below the butterfly bandages Lisa had applied earlier to hold the cut closed. "Sammy, you are the dumbest smart person I have ever known."

Sam choked out a laugh. "Which is ironic since you're the smartest dumb person I've ever known."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both thinking about how far the other had gone in an attempt to make the other happy.

"So," Dean finally broke the quiet. "Besides the fact that two demons were kicking my ass, why did you show up?"

"Like that wasn't reason enough?"

"I would've handled it." Dean defended himself.

Sam chuckled, the laugh lighter than the previous one. "Right. You were doing such a bang-up job when I stepped in. You looked a little rusty there, tiger."

"Just answer the question, smartass."

"I ran across a demon on my way here from Lawrence. It told me they were looking for you."

Dean shrugged. "Lucifer is gone… apocalypse averted… why find me now?"

Sam straightened in the chair and leaned both arms on the table. "They know you have the key."

"The key to Lucifer's cage?"

Sam nodded.

"Huh," Dean shook his head. "I don't."

Sam leaned forward a bit. "Then where is it?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond then closed it quickly, sending a look of regret across the table.

"You won't tell me." Sam's question was more of a statement.

Dean shrugged again. "I believe you're you, Sammy. I do. But…"

Sam held up a hand. "It's cool, man. I'd be disappointed in you if you did just blurt it out in the open like this. Just tell me it's somewhere safe."

Dean nodded slowly. "It's somewhere safe."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Good. Unfortunately, you're not. Those demons smoked out before I could kill them, so who knows how many they'll bring back here." He gave his brother a look of regret. "We can't stay here, Dean. And neither can Lisa and Ben. We need a plan."

"I know," Dean sighed, rubbing again at the ache that was increasing inside his head. "We need to call Bobby."

Sam frowned. "Bobby?" He sat forward slightly, his brows drawing together in confusion. "But… Lucifer. I saw it… He killed Bobby, Dean. Cas, too. I felt it, man. I couldn't do anything, but he made sure I saw everything. Especially what he did to you."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but God brought Cas back – or at least Cas believes it was God that brought him back. Whoever, or whatever, did it, Cas was brought back with all his angel mojo in tact. He healed me, he brought Bobby back." He shrugged, not knowing what to believe, let alone say to his brother about what had happened.

"So… do you think God saved me?"

"Honestly, man, I don't know what to think." Dean had been lost ever since his brother had fallen into that hole and he'd never truly allowed himself to consider the possibility, let alone form an opinion. He'd told Cas that he was angry with God. He still was. But if it was the big guy that had saved his brother… well, then maybe Dean could give him a pass just this once. "Does it really matter? God or not, you're here, I'm here and we're right back in the middle of it."

Sam snuffed a laugh through his nose. "You'd think we'd be used to that by now." He raised his head and gave his brother a sympathetic grin. "You need to talk to Lisa."

Dean closed his eyes and rubbed at the lids, shaking his head slowly. "And the hits just keep on comin'."

TBC