A/N: Thanks to my beta, apgeeksout.

Every morning after Lisa woke up, as she went through her morning rituals – the normal ones, like going to the bathroom to pee, splashing water on her face, and the not-so-normal ones, like checking the salt lines at her door and windows – she needed to carefully sort her memories out. What was real, what wasn't, what was a dream, what was from the old set of memories she'd lived with for the past ten years, and what was from the new wacky set: the one where ghosts, changelings, demons were real and she'd had an odd, intense love affair with a man who had saved the world. Dean Winchester, who had to be dead, because if not, then where was he? How was she supposed to make sense of all the things she couldn't believe but still knew were true?

"Mom? You alright?"

Lisa realized that she'd been standing in front of the coffee maker for a while, gazing ahead into nothing.

"Yes." She wiped out her hands on her pajamas bottoms and smiled brightly at her son. "Good morning, sweetie."

She kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his dark hair a bit. He grimaced, as she'd known he would, but he was old enough now that he wasn't too embarrassed by her demonstrations of affection anymore. They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, and ate their breakfast of coffee and cereal in companionable silence. It'd been months since Ben's last visit, and Lisa wanted to take a moment to enjoy her son's sleepy face, his bed hair, his noises of appreciation as he drank down his coffee.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Ben asked as he put his mug down on the table. "I'm sure you have questions."

Just like that, the morning's peace was cracked and Lisa sighed. She had questions, sure, but she was also afraid of the answers.

"Dean isn't dead. Is he?" she said.

"No."

Lisa took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah. And – and we met."

Ben's eyes dropped down. There was more to that story, Lisa could tell, but her heart was racing and she didn't feel like she could trust her voice to ask for the details. What was she so terrified of? Whatever had happened, Ben was okay.

"He remembered you?"

"Yes, he did. Mom, our memories–" Ben's face scrunched up. "Dean did it – or at least, he had a friend of his do it."

In the silence that followed, Lisa kept her eyes carefully on the chipped rim of her mug.

"A friend," she repeated dumbly.

"Yeah." Ben was squirming on his seat. She wondered what he was worried she would do. That she would burst into hysterics? "An angel friend of his," – oh, there were angels, now! – "Dean asked him to erase – well, no, to hide – our memories of him. It was after you got hurt."

After she got hurt and possessed. Right. As good a time as any to wipe the slate clean. Lisa waited for the stab of betrayal, but it was slow to come. Instead, she felt weary, disappointed but in a cold, dispassionate way. She realized that she'd known, on some level. That was why her mind had been so set on Dean's being dead: in doing what he'd done, he'd effectively erased himself from her life, as had probably been his intention. She remembered that much from him, that persistent streak of self-loathing, anchored impossibly deep into the very fabric of his being.

"What else happened?" she asked.

Ben worried his lip with his teeth. He was probably sifting the memories and making a quick decision on what he could tell her. Lisa had no illusion that she would get the whole story; it had been that way with Dean too.

"It's a long story," he finally said. "I kinda got tangled up in some… supernatural business, and Dean helped me. We talked a little, and, you know. I don't wanna make excuses for what he did but he really is sorry."

Ben's earnest expression – oh, how it broke her heart! Ben obviously wasn't done with Dean, but Lisa couldn't think of the man as anything but as a chapter of her past. That book had been closed, by Dean's own hand, and she didn't have it in her to open it again.

"Are you going to tell me what kind of 'supernatural business' it was?" she asked gently. "How dangerous?"

Ben swallowed. "It ended well," he said, which meant very dangerous.

"Okay." She wrapped her fingers around her cooling mug. "I could tell you that I don't want you mixed up in that kind of business ever again, but would you listen to me?" She smiled wryly at him and he colored.

"It's just really complicated," he protested half-heartedly. "Just… so much happened. So much changed," he added cryptically, eyes flicking away.

Huh. What was that about? She tilted her head to observe him. "Is there something else you want to tell me?"

Ben flushed violently. "Yeah, ah, uh. It's not completely related to the rest… but it kinda is, too. I…" He scratched his nose and cleared his throat. "It seems that maybe I'm not exclusively attracted to girls."

"Oh."

She had not expected that. It was such a change from the previous topic that it gave her a moment of conversational whiplash, but before she could add anything Ben carried on, "Do you remember Claire?"

Lisa frowned at the non sequitur. "Yes?"

"Well, I'm dating her. It's been a month."

"Okay, wait, I don't understand. You're telling me you might be attracted to boys – I assumed you'd met someone."

"Yeah, I did. His name is Jesse." Ben broke into an impulsive smile. "He's one year older and he…"

And Ben was off, babbling about this boy, Jesse Turner, all bubbly like an excited kid. Jesse was born in Nebraska but he'd spent half of his life in Australia. He hadn't gone to college, but it wasn't for lack of smarts, Ben assured her. He was a smoker. He'd been adopted. The description went on and on. He was so transparent, her boy, he couldn't hide anything from her. She'd seen it the first time he'd ever told her about Claire Novak, and she saw it now: Ben was smitten. Hopelessly lovestruck.

"Ben, honey," she interrupted him. "If you're dating Claire, then why are you telling me about somebody else?"

Ben snapped his mouth shut and looked at her for a long moment.

"Because I'm dating him, too. But I'm not cheating on either of them," he said hurriedly, "they know about each other and they're also dating each other. It's all three of us. Together."

Lisa didn't say anything for a while, needing to carefully consider her reaction. When Ben was younger she had steeled herself for all kinds of situations, given how rambunctious he had been as a kid, how much grief she had given her parents when she was a teenager. He had always been so conventional in his love life, though, so much less wild than she'd been.

"Mom?" Ben said nervously. "Say something."

She'd just learned that a quarter of her life had been a lie, that a man she'd loved had messed with her mind and her son's. But right now, Ben was so bright with happiness. Why ruin it? She grinned at him.

"When can I meet them?"

"Oh, soon. It's more than time that you meet Claire. And Jesse…" Ben's face suddenly fell, like something troubling had just occurred to him.

"Ben, what is it?"

He didn't answer, but his face was an open book, at least to her. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to like it.

"Ben," she insisted. "What is it?"

Lisa took a deep breath as she heard the door open and the low, droning sound of Ben's conversation with his girlfriend and his… His boyfriend. His half-demon boyfriend.

"Mom, it's us!" Ben called unnecessarily, prompting Lisa to stop hiding in the kitchen. She smoothed the wrinkles on her skirt and manufactured a smile.

"Hello!"

She kissed her son with an eye on the girlfriend, Claire, who had her hand in Ben's. She was just as pretty as Ben had always described her, with her long blond hair gathered in a braid, and her clear blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She wore a flowery summer dress and there was something aloof about her, but then she smiled and the sun rose on her face.

"Hello, Ms. Braeden," Claire said with polite reserve.

"Call me 'Lisa'," she said spontaneously. "Nice to finally meet you, Claire. I've heard so much about you."

Ben, who'd been gazing adoringly at his girl, turned to beam at his mother, glowing with pride and happiness. Lisa could almost pretend that this was an ordinary meet-the-girlfriend occasion, until Claire stepped aside to reveal the boy who'd been shuffling behind. Ben took one look at Lisa and his smile dimmed.

"Hi," Jesse said hesitantly.

He was a good-looking boy: she had to grant him that. Messy brown hair, a tanned complexion, he was about Ben's height but leaner in build. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt – Lisa recognized it as Ben's – with the collar open, and he looked extremely uncomfortable. There was nothing in his looks to betray what he was, but seeing him standing there immediately triggered the memories that had been buried deepest in her mind – the cold, oily presence staining her mind and moving her body, holding a knife against her son's throat. Maybe it was only her imagination, but she thought she could feel that same dirty sensation from being near Jesse, like a grimy sheen on her skin. She was starting to regret letting Ben convince her that his boyfriend wasn't a real threat.

"Hi," she forced out before she spun around, gesturing in direction of the living room. "Make yourselves at home. I'm tossing the salad and then we can start eating. Ben, show them in."

The salad had to wait a minute while Lisa leaned against the countertop, a hand pressed to her chest, waiting for her heartbeats to slow down.

She served wine early in the meal and the alcohol helped loosen her limbs and muffle her feelings. Sitting by her side, Ben was still tense, periodically casting quick glances in her direction, like he expected her to lose it at any moment.

"So, Claire," Lisa said, a little too loud. "Ben tells me that you're doing a Master in Religious Studies?"

"Yes, that's right." Claire raised a hand to cover her mouth while she chewed and swallowed her food. "I'm working on Christian and Judaic scriptural traditions. I'm hoping to be done next Spring semester, but we'll see. I'm not in a hurry."

"How old are you?" It was mostly to make conversation, as she was sure Ben had told her at some point.

"I'm 24."

"Well, you're still very young."

At that age, Lisa had been the mother of a toddler. It was such an accomplishment for her to have raised a son who was going to college, doing well, and now dating that bright and lovely young woman. Lisa focused on her, ignoring Jesse sitting on Claire's right, a dark spot in Lisa's field of vision

"How do you like California?" she asked Claire between mouthfuls. "You're not originally from there, are you?"

"No, I grew up in Illinois."

"We lived in Indiana for a while, then Michigan. Practically neighbors."

Claire had a close-mouthed smile – she probably already knew all this. "Living in California is quite a change of scenery, for sure. But I like it. I'm not a fan of the heat, but Long Beach is close enough to the ocean that it's bearable."

"How does California compare to Australia, Jesse?" Ben asked suddenly, with a pointed look to his mother.

Jesse mumbled some kind of answer while Lisa burned with shame. She felt like a horrible person, and it sparked ugly, unfair anger inside her, aimed at the boy. She tried to calm down, to see past her discomfort, and she kept making conversation to Claire until they were all done with the food.

"Who's up for some dessert? I made strawberry pie."

Lisa stood up as she spoke, knowing that at least Ben would want some of her pie, and she saw the scene unfold in slow motion: Jesse, having helped himself to a glass of water, raised it to his lips, tipped it to drink, then spat the water out with a raw sound of pain, coughing and gasping like he couldn't get enough air in, his face beet-red. Frozen on the spot, Lisa watched in horrified fascination the smoke coming out of his mouth.

"Jesse!"

The cry had come in unison from both Claire and Ben. Claire leaned over Jesse and rubbed circles on his back, murmuring soothingly to him, and Ben jumped off his seat, turning to Lisa with an air of black fury.

"You blessed the water?" he raged.

"No, I…"

But she had, she remembered it now. It was a habit she had gotten into since she had her memories of Dean back. Dean had taught her the Latin incantation and she did it everyday as part of her comfort rituals.

"Oh god," Jesse said hoarsely, rising up. "I'm gonna–" He promptly threw up all over the carpet.

Claire was still at his back, and Ben stepped around the table, avoiding the puddle of vomit, to kneel down in front of him. "Hey, Jess," he said, pushing sweaty hair off his boyfriend's forehead with such tenderness that Lisa had to look away. "Always the clown, eh?"

"Fuck off," Jesse rasped, without heat.

"I'll clean up," Claire said, but Lisa raised a hand to wave her off.

"No, I'll do it."

Ben and Claire took Jesse to the bathroom while Lisa mopped half-digested food from her carpet. Well, this had gone right to hell, pun intended. What made her stomach curdle, more than the fact that she'd unintentionally hurt Jesse, was the look Ben had given her.

The kids came back quickly from the bathroom, Jesse looking none the worse for wear, and the meal went on with awkward stiltedness. Lisa managed to catch Ben alone when they took empty plates to the kitchen.

"I didn't do it on purpose," she said. "I swear. It's just something I do for protection. It didn't even occur to me that…"

Ben sighed heavily, and his disheartened expression went to Lisa's heart like an arrow. He looked so grown-up at this instant: world-weary and resigned, almost a stranger.

"It's my fault," he said. "I shouldn't have brought him here. I know, well… I know what happened to you. I just wanted… I thought if you'd just meet him, then you'd realize–"

"Oh, baby." Lisa wrapped her arms around his shoulders, overcome by a sense of sorrow, and held him against her. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his hair. "I'm so sorry."

She didn't know what exactly she was apologizing for.

After lunch, Ben and Claire volunteered to do the dishes and Lisa went out on the porch, needing some air. There she found Jesse, a cigarette tucked between his lips, hands shoved into his pockets.

"You have one for me?" she asked him.

Jesse startled at her, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth.

"Uh, sure." He got a crumpled pack out of his jeans and lit up one for her.

She'd quit smoking a long time ago. Ben wouldn't like that, but she felt like indulging herself for once.

"Thanks."

"Ben never told me you smoked," he said, watching her with a sideways glance.

It seemed like a safe enough topic. "I stopped when I got pregnant with Ben," she explained after taking a puff. "Then I relapsed when he was a teenager, and he scolded me into stopping again. He'd seen one of those awful ad campaigns on TV, and I guess it freaked him out."

"Huh, he never said anything against me smoking. Then again, I don't get sick, ever, and I really don't smoke that often."

They lapsed into silence, their conversation stillborn. She breathed out smoke and as she watched it drift away in frayed ribbons she remembered the smoke that had come out of Jesse's mouth after he'd drunk the holy water. It meant that it was real, that it wasn't a mistake or an elaborate prank. There was something demonic about that boy. Something evil. She glanced furtively in his direction, and saw him blow smoke rings, his mouth almost perfectly O-shaped. She'd had a boyfriend who could do that once and had always found it strangely endearing since then.

"I should… apologize," she said, forcing the words out. Ben loved him. "It wasn't done on purpose. It was just protection, and not particularly from you. Just…"

"Yeah." He put his cigarette back to his lips, drew a puff, then held it between his thumb and forefinger. "I should have anticipated that, coming from someone who used to date a hunter. It's a good habit to have, I guess. Claire splashed me with holy water when we met, you know. Now it's almost a mating ritual to me."

He grinned at her, effortlessly charming, and she almost grinned back. She'd thought him shy, and now had to revise her judgment: he'd probably just had his walls up against her own chilly behavior. She could get to like him, in different circumstances, but it would mean dropping her guard. Could she afford to do that?

"Does it really burn you?" she asked, morbidly curious. "I mean, real burns?"

"As real as can be." He shrugged. Up close, his eyes weren't as dark as she'd first thought, grey edging on blue. "But I heal fast, so it's no big deal. I'm good as new."

He smiled again, a little more guarded at this admission of the ways he wasn't fully human. Lisa remembered Ben's look of fury and wasn't sure it really was "no big deal".

"Look, Ms. Braeden, I…"

He took another drag of his cigarette, looking down at the wooden floor. Call me Lisa, she'd said to Claire, but the words got caught in her throat when she tried to offer Jesse the same liberty.

"I know you can't ever trust or like me," Jesse went on, not a hint of accusation in his voice, only stating a fact.

"Ben told you," Lisa said tightly.

"How could he not? You know Ben, he's no good at hiding things – he told you about me."

They shared a hesitant, conspiratorial smile. "You know what kind of evil I come from," Jesse said. "Believe me, I understand how you feel."

"How?" Lisa asked, her voice brittle. "I imagine that it's impossible for you to get possessed."

She'd forgotten about the cigarette between her fingers and had to drop it before it burned her. She stomped on it, putting it out, and it left a dark smear on the floor.

"No, I can't. But, I…" He was fidgety, looking at anything but her. "This is how I was born. My birth mother got possessed and… somehow… found herself pregnant with the Devil's spawn. I've kind of thought about it a lot."

"My God," she whispered.

She couldn't imagine… no, scratch that, she could imagine all too well the kind of horror that poor woman had gone through. She felt chilled and sick. She wanted to cut the conversation short, but was held back by the feeling that Jesse hadn't said his piece yet. He visibly forced himself to meet her eyes, a somber expression settled on his face.

"You'd probably like for me to leave Ben, but I… I can't. I can't do that. As long as they want me…" He rubbed his nose. "I could promise you that I would never hurt your son, but you have no reason to believe me."

She did believe him though, unexpectedly, or at least she believed in his sincerity at this very moment. But the roots of her worry went deeper than that: it wasn't that Jesse would hurt Ben, but that he could, and that her son's well-being rested on the good will of this boy she barely knew. People change their minds. They fall out of love. They get embittered and jaded and mean. What would happen to Ben then? But she didn't interrupt Jesse with her thoughts and he kept on with his speech.

"I'll protect him," he said. "I'll protect them both. It's another promise that you don't have to believe, but I mean it, and it's not just empty words. I'm not just a danger to Ben, I'm also a danger to anything that could hurt him. You know he's vulnerable – he's been made vulnerable."

By Dean – but that remained unspoken. Lisa felt a brief but violent surge of resentment toward her ex, which quickly morphed into weary resignation. Whatever mark Dean had left on their lives, Ben seemed to have embraced it fully.

"I will hold you to that promise," she said, in a stern voice honed by years of motherhood.

She had no way to actually force him to anything, of course, but he nodded anyway.

"I will," he said, heartbreakingly earnest, "always. Even when they get tired of me, I will watch out for them."

She noticed that he'd said when, not if, and she felt a pang for him against her will. They shook hands, both of them absurdly solemn, but something had passed between them, some sort of understanding. At last, they were on common ground.