here ya go ya'll. :) Enjoy, and please do let me know what ya think. Thanks so much! :)

Chapter 6

Lisa had kissed him before he left for the day—briefly, like before he'd left last time. It hadn't been much. It had been short and sweet. He shouldn't have still been thinking about it, but it was on Dean's mind as he went back the next day.

Still not sure about parking at the Braeden's place, or what that would say, he parked where he'd been the past two days and crossed the street to the park. He didn't see Lisa yet but he found Ben on a bench on the other side, playing a handheld video game. He wasn't sure what the name of the mini system was, seeing as he had no reason to keep up with such things.

"Hey." He paused at the end of the bench, hand on its back, and smiled when the kid looked up at him.

"You're back," Ben grinned.

"Of course I'm back; I said I would be, didn't I?"

The boy shrugged as he turned partial attention back to the video game. "My dad found out about me last year, and he said he'd come around sometimes. He never has."

Dean frowned. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay…I only met him the once anyway. I don't really care; he can be a bitch if he wants to. At least you keep your promises."

As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. His own words to his brother echoed in his memory, and Dean covered his grimace by pulling it into a smirk. "Uh, sure," he said quietly. He paused a moment, and then motioned to the open half of the bench. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead; I was waiting for you anyway."

Dean settled on the other end of the park bench from the kid. "You didn't have to do that."

"I've got nothing else to do. Kyle has a dentist appointment today."

"Aren't there other kids to play with?"

Ben snorted. "Don't say play with. That sounds so juvenile. We have semi-organized sports and video games. "

Dean smothered a grin. "Oh really?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. You never answered the question, by the way."

"There are other guys, but I didn't feel like it today. I think they're all at Ryan's house shooting some hoops."

"Ah. I see." He paused in thought. "What about chicks?"

Ben shook his head. "It's the middle of the day. It's too hot. Most of the chicks usually don't show up until at least three."

"Uh huh."

It was slightly more difficult talking to the kid alone, but he figured it wasn't going too bad so far. It was kinda nice, actually.

Until Ben dropped the bomb.

"I saw the kiss."

Dean blinked over at him. "What?"

"I saw you and Mom kiss—well, both times actually…before you left last time, and when you were heading out after lunch yesterday. Yeah, I know you probably figured I didn't notice two years ago, since I was busy and all, but I noticed. Yesterday I saw because we didn't play basketball as long I thought we would, and I was on my way home. I saw it through the side window."

And Dean had no idea how to respond to that. "Oh," he deadpanned.

Ben looked up and raised eyebrow. "Chill, dude. It's cool with me."

He took an uncomfortable breath. "Uhm, okay. Good?"

"Yeah, it's good," the kid answered, misreading the uncertain statement for a question. "I mean, I guess so. I don't think I'd mind if you dated her. I wouldn't really know. She's hardly ever gone on more than one date with anybody, and usually when she does the guy turns out to be a total ass. You're not an ass, so…"

Dean chuckled a little, the discomfort easing away. "Well, thanks. I think." Ben smiled briefly and turned back to his video game again.

"So are you going to?"

"Going to what?"

"Date my mom."

He let out an uncertain breath without answering the question. "So uh…where is your mom?"

"She had to get some clothes washed or something; she said she'd be out here soon. Or, you know, we could just go back to the house now."

"Nah. I wouldn't want to spring anything on her and all that. We'll just wait here and see what she wants to do."

"Sure."

Dean nodded slowly. "Right, so…bought any good music lately?"

The pain never stopped, but sometimes it dimmed…just long enough for him to hear that voice laughing, taunting him. Sometimes it sounded far in the distance, and other times it felt close, but it was always the same.

Always the pain.

This wasn't Earth; Sam really had no body here. He was dead. There was no physical body to damage. Whatever was doing this could hurt him as long as it wanted, and it never had to end.

He knew that, and he wanted to scream. He wanted to, but he didn't. He wouldn't give the voice the satisfaction.

Not that it was just a voice. He knew there were a limited number of beings powerful enough to pull off…whatever this was, but the pain never faded enough or long enough to let him think beyond that. He couldn't think, and he couldn't see, and he wouldn't scream.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Sam demanded desperately, one more time.

It was no different from the dozens of other times he had posed the question.

Except that this time he got an answer.

The indistinct laughter rang in his ears once more, growing closer until it solidified into a decidedly feminine sound. The darkness before him wavered, shifted, twisted, curled…until a figure took shape. It was hazy at first, half there, but slowly cleared to show him a face he had only seen one in his own life, but would know anywhere. The blouse and slacks were black, making the long blonde hair the only thing that really stood out against the nonexistent background.

Lilith's lips curled into a feral smile. "Hello, Sam." Before he had a chance to do any more than gape at her, she held up a hand and closed it tightly into a fist.

The muted pain exploded again, worse this time than ever before.

Half an hour later Lisa showed, carrying a slightly dingy blue kickball and slightly out of breath. Dean and Ben were still on the bench, Ben in the midst of attempting to instruct Dean on how to play the video game. Dean had never had much time for such things, but he was a decently-playing arcade-goer when he did have the time. This new handheld era, though, was all but lost on him, and Ben wasn't making much progress in his instruction.

"There you are," Lisa sighed in way of announcing herself. The boys looked up as she glanced around the field. "Where is everyone? Kyle usually brings the ball, so I brought ours from the house, but no-one's really out here…"

"It is pretty hot today," Dean commented. He had long since pulled off his army-green button-down shirt and draped it over the back of the bench, even though the thing was mostly in the shade of a couple of strategically-placed young trees.

"True. You guys want to head back to the house? I think we have some ice cream left."

"Nah. Air-conditioning is for wusses," Ben answered immediately.

Dean grinned. "Rain-check on that ice cream though."

Lisa smiled. "You bet." Then she focused on her son. "Fine, mister tough guy. What do you want to do out here?"

Ben jumped up, shoved the video game into his pocket and grabbed the ball. "You know how to play kickball, Dean?"

His eyebrows went up? "Do I know how to play kickball? Do I know how to play kickball? Excuse me, but you're looking at the kickball champion of the fourth grade."

That, of course, had been before Dad started his training in earnest—before he'd ever gone on the hunt. The early years. He could still see a tiny kindergarten-aged Sam, sitting on the sidelines in the field behind the elementary school of the month, cheering his big brother on.

The memory sent a harsh twinge through his chest, and he barely managed to mask the pained gasp for air as a deep breath. It fooled Ben, but Lisa still looked at him strangely as he went on.

"Anyway, yes. I can play kickball."

Lisa crossed her arms. "Don't we need more than three people?"

"Yeah, that'd be better, but we can still do it," Ben answered eagerly. "Come on; I'll pitch first and you and Dean can kick."

Dean and Lisa exchanged a glance, and when he shrugged Lisa capitulated. "All right, fine," she said, arms in the air. "After all, it's not like I have a house to clean or anything."

Ben grinned and grabbed his mother's arm, dragging her out into the middle of the grass. "Come on, Dean!"

When the park began to fill up later that afternoon, the kickball game grew to include anyone who wished to join. Lisa retired to the nearest bench once there were enough kids to play, but Dean stayed in as long as Ben did. He was on the smaller team and his kickball skills were a little rusty, but he had longer legs than anyone on the field. It all boiled down to a close match.

There was the thought of course—the one in the back of his mind that yelled at him—asking what the hell he was doing playing kickball with a bunch of kids. He was a hunter.

But he was having fun. He hadn't had fun in months.

It helped, too, to be on the winning team. He and Ben and the boys kicked the other team's ass.

"That was awesome!" Ben was saying as they walked back to the Braeden's house later. Lisa had invited Dean for dinner.

He high-fived the kid, flashing a grin. "You were great out there."

"So were you!"

"Nah, I'm just tall—well, to you guys anyway."

Lisa glanced up at him. "You're six feet tall. Isn't that tall to anyone?"

Dean answered with something halfway between a wince and a smile. "Not to six-foot-four freaks of nature."

Ben just laughed, oblivious, but Lisa gave him that look from earlier—the one that told him she knew something was up, that she knew he was hurting. Over Ben's head he gave her a reassuring smile, and she sighed and let it go without saying anything.

It was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. They quickly realized that the human expression did not even begin to cover the likelihood of finding Sam Winchester quickly. His soul was no longer tarnished, and it had not been bartered with; it was not possible for him to be in hell. That meant that if he was not in heaven, and not on the physical plane, then he was lost somewhere in the middle ground.

The middle ground was not an advantageous place in which to be lost. It was nothing. It was endless. It was the middle ground. It was vast and dark and silent if not manipulated, and was an easy place for any being who did not want to be found to cloak themselves, if they were powerful enough. Not many were, but those that could hide could hide well.

Castiel did not know how long it would take, but now he had help. It wasn't much, but it was assistance, and it would have to do.

Sam Winchester had a family to return to, and Castiel did not plan to give up.

"Hey, you've got a birthday coming up soon, don't you?" Dean asked, as they finished up a dinner of Hamburger Helper.

Ben nodded once. "Yep. The big one-oh."

"That's right; you're hittin' double digits, man."

"Yep," he repeated. "Hey, wanna come to my party?"

"Ben, I hardly think he has the time to stick around for a few weeks," Lisa reprimanded.

Dean shrugged. "I never know what my time's gonna be like lately. Besides, even if I can't stay I can always come back."

"Yeah, Mom. He can always come back."

She shrugged. "Okay, he can come back—if he wants to come to your party. I don't think he's answered the question yet."

"That was an answer. Of course I want to come. Hey, is it gonna be as cool as the one I saw year before last?"

"Even cooler," Ben grinned.

Dean's eyebrows went up curiously. "What could be cooler for a guy your age than a moonbounce full of chicks?"

"A moonbounce full of chicks and a giant water slide. The girls will all be in swimsuits."

"Sweet."

"The inflatable company is running a special this year—it's actually cheaper to rent more than one," Lisa explained conspiratorially.

"Nice."

"It is. As a single mother, saving money is always a good thing," she agreed, standing. "Hey Ben, why don't you go do something for a few minutes and let us get the dishes up?"

The kid shrugged and headed off. "Okay."

When Ben was gone Dean stood too, picking up his plate and glancing at her curiously. "You want me to help wash?"

"No, we've got a dishwasher. Just hand me the dishes."

"Oh." He stacked most of the dishes in his hands and carried them to the counter near said dishwasher, which she was preparing for a load. "Huh. The last time we had a dishwasher I was four."

"What?"

"What with the moving around and all, you know, no house…we never had a dishwasher when I was a kid—except before the moving around started, when I was four," he explained.

"Right…and you were moving around because…you were hunting things like those things you killed around here a couple years ago?" She held out a hand indicating she was ready for the dishes, and he handed them to her one by one.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Lisa sighed shortly. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that idea."

He smiled a little. "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault," she shrugged. Dean went back for the rest of the dishes from the table, and she leaned on the counter for a moment. "So no dishwasher…and I guess you didn't get a home-cocked meal very often either, did you? Not that this was all that great, being hamburger helper, but…"

"No, it was fine, and yeah…not very many home-cooked meals. Not these days, either, except when I'm at Bobby's."

"Bobby's?"

He came back around the counter to hand her the last of the dishes. "He uh…knew my dad for a long time—does the same job, except he runs a salvage yard besides. He's always been kind of like an uncle to Sam and me."

Lisa finished arranging the dishes, and shut the dishwasher. "Sam…that was your brother's name?" she asked quietly, as she turned it on.

Dean's jaw twitched. "Yeah." He glanced down at the happily running dishwasher, hoping to find a change in subject. "So that took all of five seconds. What'd you send Ben off for?" Then he looked up again, and from her expression realized they'd already reached the subject she'd been hoping to broach. "What?" he asked innocently.

She sighed. "Dean, are you really okay?"

He swallowed. "Yeah…why?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I do?"

"Dean."

He looked at her for a long moment, and realized she wasn't going to back down. He let out a breath and back against the counter. "So I'm not so great."

"What is it?" she asked gently.

Dean shrugged, really not wanting to go into the details. Lisa didn't need to know those. "There have been…some things happening recently, with the big kahuna we're up against right now. I've just been thinking about Sam a lot lately, that's all. I'm fine."

Now it was Lisa who sighed. She took a step closer, looking up at him with concern. "Okay…but listen, if you ever want…you know, talk, or anything…" She motioned to the house around them. "You know where to find me."

"Yeah…thanks," he smiled softly.

Lisa nodded once. "You're welcome," she answered quietly.

This time it was Dean who initiated the kiss, and this time it lasted a lot longer.

When Sam could focus on anything at all again, Lilith was still there, the only image out of the darkness, still smirking at him.

"How can you be doing this?" he gasped. "How are you here? You're supposed to be in hell."

"The ritual your brother recited was incredibly basic—probably the only one his poor little brain could hold," she retorted.

Sam glowered. "And your point is?"

"It did it's job, but only in the simplest sense. I barely skimmed the surface of the pit. Do you really think basic hell for the average working demon could hold me? Granted, I'm not quite all the way out yet, but then again being stuck halfway did give me this interesting opportunity."

"Good for you," he snorted. "What the hell do you want, anyway?"

"Just you. I have what I want—for now."

"What good does having me do you? You don't even know me."

Lilith grinned. "Not this time around, no."

Sam froze—which was easy. Without the pain, he couldn't feel anything. He still couldn't move. "What?"

"Don't think I haven't heard the rumors. Apparently, things were different once. We were winning. Lucifer was nearly free. Then you and one of your little angel friends ruined it all. You changed it." She pushed in closer, in his face, and he wished he could pull away. "Right now, everything is your fault. I would drag you to hell if I could, but now I suppose I don't have to."

He swallowed; he had nothing to say to that. He couldn't deny the accusations, because they were true.

Lilith went on without backing away at all. "Maybe we don't have the atmosphere here—the heat and the noise and smell of blood and burnt flesh—but we don't need that. I'll be happy as long as you suffer, and that I can do myself."

"You're sick," he spat.

"It's my job," she snapped in return. She took a step back then, finally, and glanced out at the nothingness. "Maybe it's not hell, but we can definitely make it more interesting than this."

"This is just fine, thanks."

But the darkness was already lightening, taking shape. The directionless black shifted, and though he'd decided he was being held upright, he was suddenly on his back. Cold wood hardened under his back, and the blackness become gray stone walls and iron bars. His wrists and ankles were bound to the surface of the heavy table by heavy metal cuffs snapped over them.

Sam scoffed. "A dungeon. Really, Lilith? That's all you could come up with?"

She was standing over him now, and the knife in her hands looked too big with the slim, petite body she'd chosen. "I'm perfectly capable of being creative, but for now you can take some small amusement in the fact that I'm not strong enough yet to create something more complicated. Breaking into the physical plane and regaining the full strength of my powers will take time."

Lilith smirked and twirled the point of the knife against his cheek. "All I have to do is wait. That won't be so hard now; I have something to keep me busy."

It wasn't real—none of it was—but he could still feel the trickle of blood on his cheek drawn by the knife. He expect her to use it—the knife—but she only held up the hand again, and closed it.

He didn't know how it could be worse, but this time it was worse.

This time Sam screamed.