Chapter 14

Lisa and Sam didn't talk as he drove over the country roads. His face was grim, and he kept chewing his lip. Lisa imagined that she probably didn't look much better.

It was a surprisingly short drive; he pulled up in what looked like the middle of nowhere. For a second Lisa had the paranoid thought that he had driven her out here to kill her. Sam had always struck her as somebody who was capable of anything, given the right motivation.

"This is the bunker," Sam said.

"The bunker?"

"It's been here for a long time. The Men of Letters—oh, hell, forget the explanation." He shut off the ignition and looked at her. "I think I should go in first, tell Dean…"

"Sam." Lisa spoke very gently now; she had had time to cool off, and she realized now how much strain the man was under. She reached over and patted his arm. "Listen. This is between me and Dean. This is something we need to sort out ourselves. Whatever has happened in the meantime, he still owes me that. Unless…unless there's a woman in there and you're trying to hide it from me for some ridiculous reason."

"No. No woman." Sam managed a hollow laugh. "Oh, God, Lisa. It's Dean. I just got him back to being human." He rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

"You what?" Lisa's throat went dry.

Sam didn't move for a few seconds. Then he sat up and looked at her. "How about I just tell you the whole story?"

He seemed relieved to have somebody to listen to him, somebody to give him their full attention while he poured out the story of the past few years. Even for Lisa, who had been with Dean after Sam took down Lucifer and prevented the Apocalypse (one of them, anyway) the story was hard to believe. Her mouth dropped open slightly as she listened, and when Sam got to the part where Dean died by an angel's hand, tears filled her eyes. Sam didn't notice; the story poured out of him like a flood, and he couldn't stop.

He told her about the Mark of Cain and what had happened in the past few weeks, how he had managed to bring him back and cure him. "I'm worried, though," he finished up. "He still has the Mark, and I don't know what's going to happen now. That's why I'm worried about taking you in there, Lisa."

Lisa sat there in the passenger's seat, looking out across the fields, the scrubby landscape. It was so much to take in. She didn't know how she felt about it, about the whole story, but she was determined. "If something's going to happen, it will happen whether or not he sees me, Sam," she said. "Face it. You know Dean as well as—better than I do. You can't shield him from anything."

"You're right." A tight smile appeared on Sam's face for a second. "Shall we go in?"

"Dean?" Sam called as he and Lisa walked down the steps into the main room of the bunker. "Dean, we've got a visitor!"

Silence. Sam cocked his head, listening, and then his eyes brightened. "I think I hear him in the garage," he said.

"The garage?" Lisa had never seen anything like this place. It was like the Batcave. She had visions of butlers and men in suits, reading books at the polished table, discussing theories over glasses of port and sherry.

She followed Sam down a hall, standing back a little as he pushed open a door.

"Dean?"

"Sammy! What did I do to Baby?" It was his voice, and it had not changed. Lisa's heart stopped for a second, then began beating very fast. She peeked in, catching a glimpse of dark hair and a gray t-shirt.

"You trashed her," Sam said, with a flicker of amusement in his voice. "You said she was just a car."

"I said that?" Dean sounded genuinely horrified. "Baby, Baby, I'm so sorry. Look at her, Sam. Her interior reeks of whiskey."

"Well, it always smelled like that a little bit," Sam said.

"Shut up. Here, Baby, I'm going to make it all better. I'll get you some polish for the dashboard and give you a full wax. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Dean."

"What?"

"We've got a visitor."

The noises stopped. Lisa kept in the background.

"Who?"

"Well, uh, she kind of wants to tell you herself."

"Sam, I don't have time for this. You've restored my humanity—you don't need to bring me women to try and prove it."

Sam turned red and glanced at Lisa. She smiled at him, ducked under his arm and walked into the garage.

Dean was reaching inside the driver's side door for something, and he did not look up immediately. Lisa's heart was pounding so hard that she thought she might faint, but at the same time she was fully aware of every second that went by. That dark hair—the way those shoulders moved in that gray t-shirt—Dean, Dean, Dean. I've missed you. I don't care what's happened, I don't care what you did…I can kick your ass later, after I've kissed you…

He was staring at her, and all the color had drained out of his face.

"Lisa?"

His voice didn't seem to be working properly. He straightened up, his hand on the door.

She found that her own feet were frozen to the floor, and she couldn't speak.

"Oh, God, Lisa." Dean's head dropped for a second. "What—what are you—how'd you find…"

"I remembered, Dean." Why was it so hard to form the words?

He looked at her, and his eyes were honest and clear, the way she remembered them. "I'm sorry, Lisa. I'm so sorry. Out of all the crap I've done, and believe me it's a lot of crap, what I did to you is the thing I regret most."

"You shouldn't have done it," she said softly.

"I know." His face was still white. "All I wanted was to keep you and Ben safe." His eyes lit suddenly with concern. "Is Ben all right?"

"Yes, he's fine. Well, not fine, but he's doing great considering the circumstances. He remembers too."

She hated seeing Dean so stricken. Sam was right; he'd been through so much. She couldn't hold onto her anger, looking at him.

"Dean."

He looked at her, helplessly, his eyes dark with pain. She remembered that pain, the weight of the world that never left him.

She walked straight up to him. He stood there, expecting—what? A slap, a punch to the gut? The guy had spent his life being punched in the gut, literally and metaphorically.

She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him on the mouth.

Suddenly his arms were around her, those arms that she thought she might never feel again. They clung to each other, standing by the Impala.

"Lisa. Lisa." His whole body was shaking, and he gripped her hard against his chest, his face buried in her hair. "You don't know what I've done…"

"Sam told me." Lisa lifted her head so she could see his eyes. "It's all right, Dean. You understand? I love you. I never stopped loving you. It doesn't matter what's happened or what you've done, that's not going to change."

His lips shook a little. "I'm dangerous," he said quietly. "I was a demon. Do you understand that? I could still turn. I could hurt you. I can't take that risk with you, Lisa. I just can't. You've got to stay away from me."

She smiled, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. "I think we've learned that you can't make my decisions for me, Dean. Right now I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere until we sort things out."

He stared at her, and she stared back with a defiance and confidence that was new to her, but growing stronger all the time. Finally she saw acceptance dawning in his eyes, and she knew she had won.

"Sammy?" Dean called, not lifting his eyes from Lisa's face.

"Yeah?"

"Get out."

The door closed behind him.

That kiss was long and sweet and deep: five years of hunger satisfied for both of them. One of Dean's hands slid down to Lisa's waist, against her bare skin under her shirt, and she let it stay there as she leaned in.

There were things they'd have to deal with, problems they'd have to face. But not now.