A re-imagining of Exile on Main Street.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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History has a cruel way of repeating itself.

When Sam had died, Dean thought for certain he would die as well. He wound up on Lisa's doorstep again, shaking and in tears and completely expecting her to turn him away. What he had not expected was for her to draw him into the warmth of her arms and hold him tight. He didn't expect to be comforted, and he sure as hell didn't think she would pull him into her home like he had belonged there the entire time.

And yet, she had.

Dawn came just like Dean knew it would, and Sammy was still dead. Dean tried to distract himself, tried to do anything but fall apart. He worked on cars and loved Lisa and Ben, and he tried hard to live that apple pie life he had always wanted for Sam but that Sam had given his life to make sure Dean had gotten.

Things settled into a comfortable state of being, and Dean kept waiting for the levee to break, for something to happen and destroy the tiny bit of happiness he was finally allowing himself. Because he wasn't destined to be happy. No Winchester was ever meant to have that, except maybe Sam, but Sam was dead and Dean was all alone.

Everything was going well until that morning, when Lisa came out of their bathroom with a tiny white stick and Dean knew that things were going to change all over again. He didn't have anything against kids; he loved them, in fact, but he was not cut out to be a father. No hunter got out of the life, and Dean would be no exception. One day the life would come slamming into the door and he would be pulled away again from Lisa and Ben. Kids had no place on the road. They needed stability and good parents and safety. He couldn't provide any of that.

For a moment, he thought of running. The moment, however, was just a moment. He was not a shitty asshole who abandoned his responsibilities. So, even though he was terrified, he drew Lisa close and closed his eyes.

He would find a way to do this.

Lisa's pregnancy was healthy and uneventful. Dean found a good job that paid well and they turned the guest room beside their room into a nursery. Hours were spent fashioning a crib that reminded him of Sammy's, but this was different. He and Lisa were not his parents. Ben and this baby would have good childhoods and Dean would make sure the evils of his life never touched them. He would die to protect them.

When Lisa went into labor, Dean left Ben with a neighbor and sat at Lisa's side for hours, until a tiny pink bundle was laid on Lisa's chest. Dean was blown away by tiny pink lips and a headful of shockingly dark hair. Lisa wept and Dean shuddered and rested a large hand on his tiny daughter.

"Hey, kid. I'm your dad."

Annabelle Samantha Winchester came home the following evening. As Dean carried her into her nursery and carefully laid her in the crib he had fashioned for her, he knew he would take on heaven and hell for her. He leaned over and gently kissed her soft hair, watching her sleep for a little while before he stepped out of the nursery.

Everything was going too well.

He paused in the hallway and rested his hand against the wall. For what felt like the millionth time, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. "Cas, please…" His soft voice trailed off. He never got past those first two words, no matter how many times he said them. Please what? Please bring Sam back? Please fix this entire mess?

Please show your face?

Shuddering, he pulled his hand from the wall and gave himself a moment to compose, then he straightened his back and headed downstairs, where he could hear Lisa and Ben talking softly in the living room. Swiping a hand over his hair, he went to join his little family, the two people who had pulled him back from that dangerous edge so many times over the past year.

Yet, he couldn't stop the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that everything he had worked so hard for was about to come crashing down around him.

To Be Continued