Author's Note: I think many assumed this reality was over with Dean's death. Oh, lovely readers... we are not nearly done with this one.


"I have no idea what did that to him," Bobby says sadly as he comes back into the house. His expression is long and worn after having helped Lizzy get Dean's body out back behind the house.

She called him from the road, having already gotten Dean's body wrapped in sheets and laid across the back seat of his own car. She was already on her way to his house, not knowing at all what else to do. She was vague about what happened, wasn't able to talk about it while driving, but when she showed up at their house, collapsing into sobs while unable to even stand on her feet anymore, he got the story out of her. The very sad story with a very odd ending.

"Neither do I," Lizzy sniffles, sitting at the table right up against Karen sitting next to her. Karen has her arm around her shoulders and Lizzy's leaning into her. A pile of crumpled tissues litter the table around them. "It was so fucking weird."

"You don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to," Karen tells her sweetly, her voice low and sad as she runs soothing fingers through Lizzy's long hair.

Lizzy just nods her head and lets out a shaking sigh. Her eyes water over again and she hangs her head.

"Sweetie, it's fine. We can talk tomorrow," Karen tells her, leaning her head into the devastated woman's. "You really need to get some rest. You're exhausted."

"I can't," she cries. "If…. If I try I just, I see him. And I'll never see him again."

Karen hugs her tightly and tries her best to not cry along with her. The utter anguish over the state of her girl is killing them both. They love her too much to see this from her.

"Come on, dear," Karen says to her and stands up, pulling Lizzy with her. She helps her to the living room and lays her down on the couch. Karen sits first and pulls Lizzy's head in to her lap, continuing to comb through her hair gingerly and with total love as the young girl weeps quietly through her exhaustion, Bobby walking back outside to avoid the scene as he just can't handle it.

Making his way back around the house, Bobby heads to the sheet covered form he plans to take care of properly tomorrow. He sits down onto the grass next to what is left of the young man he'd come to truly like, maybe even consider family, and sighs.

Taking a moment alone, he lets his own sorrow take over for just a few minutes. He doesn't cry much, not since the possession of Karen years ago, but this loss deserves a few moments of mourning.

Dean was a good man. He was kind and caring, he put loved ones far before himself, and he was driven. He wanted to help. He just wanted to help his brother and some other people while he was at it.

And now Bobby's adopted daughter is absolutely devastated. And his hopes for her quieter future are dashed.

After some time alone he gets going on building the pyre. He called Sam the moment he knew Dean was dead and Lizzy was coming here. It was a terrible conversation, one in which he told the poor kid that his one and only brother that means the world to him had passed. It was ugly and at first Sam hung up on him. When he called back over an hour later they spoke briefly and Sam agreed that Dean's final place should be at Bobby's since he truly loved it there.

Sam's already probably about halfway there. Should arrive by morning.

Bobby better build that pyre before he arrives.


"Kare."

Karen lifts her head up and wakes when she hears her nickname. She opens her eyes quickly and looks up, Bobby standing over her with a dirt smudged face.

"I'm up," she says, adjusting slightly and feeling a weight in her lap. When she looks down she see Lizzy fast asleep there, still with her face calm for the first time since she arrived.

"Don't move," Bobby asks of her.

"My legs are asleep."

"Just give her a few more minutes?" Bobby tries again, sitting across the coffee table from her in a wooden chair he brought in from the kitchen. "She needs it."

Karen nods sadly, looking at their girl with her hand gently placed on her head, Lizzy's body curled up in the fetal position. "Bobby, what are we going to do?"

Wrinkling his forehead he looks at Lizzy. "Take it a day at a time. Watch her like a damn hawk. Deal with Sam when he gets here." He then shrugs. "Past a proper hunter's funeral I don't know what else we can do."

"She was so happy," Karen gets choked up. "Have you ever seen her like that?"

"Never."

"I was so excited for her," Karen closes her eyes with pain. "And he was so good to her. I wasn't even all that mad when they eloped."

"Yeah, me neither," Bobby admits.

"You told him you'd castrate him if he ever fucked up," Karen reminds him of his threat when they called with the good news.

"I knew I'd never have to do that," Bobby tells her. "He was a good kid."

"Oh, I miss him," Karen admits, crying quietly so as not to wake up the unfortunate girl him her lap. "I really liked him."

"Me too," Bobby easily confesses, having truly let Dean into his life. "Why don't you let her sleep here? Leave her be for the night?"

"Think we should leave her alone?"

"She might need time alone without the body of her husband near her," Bobby reminds her of the torture Lizzy endured on the way here.

Together they get Lizzy lying on the couch alone, a decorative pillow under her head and a blanket over her body. Karen kisses her cheek. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."


In the middle of the night Lizzy wakes. Her eyes fly open on their own, no sound heard. She doesn't know what pulled her from sleep but something did.

Sitting up slowly, confused to find herself alone and it being dark out, she wipes her puffy eyes. Blinking away the sleep she sees Bobby's living room, antiques and all. The room is still and silent.

Scanning around her eyes stop when she sees a man standing in the kitchen. She inhales sharply at the shock. Observing him without moving, she holds her breath.

He's facing away from her, his entire body in profile as he leans his back into the edge of the kitchen counter. He has a tan trench coat on, unbuttoned and open. He has shiny wingtips on his feet and what looks like black slacks under the trench coat. She catches what she thinks it a tie around his neck, blue. His dark hair is disheveled at best and his eyes are staring into the study that he's facing. His five o'clock shadow paired with unruly hair makes him look rougher around the edges than his clothing would let on.

She's never seen this man in her life.

Lizzy reaches down into her boot that she never took off before passing out. She grabs her silver knife she usually stashes there, it not being very big but it can be awfully effective if it's all she has, and takes a deep inhale to prepare.

"That knife is entirely unnecessary," the man in the kitchen tells her, never once looking at her to know she has a weapon at all. "I am not here to harm you."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see about that," Lizzy speaks right back. She stands slowly, holding her only weapon tightly and walking toward the stranger cautiously. "Who are you?"

He turns his head and follows her as she moves. "I am Castiel."

"Weird name," Lizzy tells him, walking closer. She's not getting any feelings of fear or danger from him. Not at all. Instead it's the opposite. She feels comfortable and good. The knife never leaves her hand however. It remains at the ready. Never get caught with your pants down.

"Yes, well, my father didn't think so," Castiel says to her in return as she stands in front of him with a good five feet between. When he looks at her he smiles slightly. "It is very good to finally see you again, Elizabeth."

Lizzy face drops with confusion. "Again? We've met before?"

"When you were only a child," he answers, grinning lightly with nostalgia. "My, you were such a curious and wide-eyed little one. And quite sharp. I enjoyed your company."

"Why don't I remember you?" she asks the mystery man.

"Oh, I didn't look like this when we met," Castiel answers easily, standing tall and fixing his coat lapels. He's roughly Dean's height, tall and intimidating, but still she doesn't feel intimidated. "I looked… very much different."

"What did you look like back then?" Lizzy keeps questioning while completely lost with his answers, her knife dropped by her side unknowingly.

"It does not matter," Castiel answers, not ready to get into it too much. "The point is I have been with you for a very long time, just mostly unseen for the past twenty-five years. But after all you've been through I felt it necessary for me to… reintroduce myself. You could use some guidance right now."

"Dude, I don't know who you are… but you can't just break into people's houses and start talking all creepy like this in the middle of the night," Lizzy tells him, impatient and confused. "Especially not in a hunter's house."

"I think I will fair just fine," Castiel says with certainty.

"Bobby!" Lizzy calls over her shoulder with that threatening-sounding answer. "Bobby, get down here!"

"He can't hear you," Castiel promises.

Lizzy's heart plummets with what that could mean.

"No, I did nothing to your father-figure," Castiel reads her mind. "He's quite well and asleep, just like Karen. They can't hear you because you aren't awake."

"So this is all just some fucked up dream I'm having?" Lizzy wonders.

"Somewhat," Castiel's eyes narrow. "We are in your subconscious mind, which is accessible through your dreams. It was the only safe way for me to speak to you."

"You mean since if this was real life I'd have killed you by now," Lizzy challenges. "I mean, you did break into my house…."

"I do not fear attack by you," Castiel kindly tells her.

"You should." Her voice is dark and warning.

"You cannot kill me, Elizabeth," he tells her. "I just wanted to speak to you without interruption."

Lizzy's expression wrinkles. "Well then, I'll bite. You somehow have access to my freakin' head so… what the hell are you?"

Castiel's face takes on a serene and proud look. "I am an angel of the Lord."

"Fuck you," Lizzy rolls her eyes.

"It's true. I am an angel. I am a watcher, sent to look over the Earth and to look over you specifically."

"Me!?"

Castiel shares what seems to her to be an uncharacteristic smile. "Yes."

"Ok, wait up here," Lizzy scoffs, her knife held low by her side now. "Angels aren't real."

"How can you be sure?"

"Dude, I've seen everything," Lizzy tells him. "Demons, hell spawn, ghost, wraiths, ghouls, you name it. If it exists I know how to kill it… and I have. I've never even heard of an angel, not a real one."

"We have not been on the Earth for a long time… not since roughly six through thirty-six B.C. in your designated way of organizing time."

She just stares at him oddly, not getting it. "Look, I'm not all that religious to be honest…."

"If I were you I would not believe in such things either," Castiel tells her, taking a step forward out of need to comfort. She immediately steps back, giving a suspicious look. "I will not harm you, Elizabeth. I would never dare do such a terrible thing."

"Just stay back then, huh?" she asks of him, grip tightening around the knife handle still at the ready.

He nods once, agreeing to listen to her request. "I would never, and will never, lie to you. Never you. I am what I claim to be."

"Prove it, then," Lizzy defiantly asks of him, arms crossing over her chest.

He sighs, seeing he has no choice. "Do not be alarmed."

He lowers his head, closing his eyes, and Lizzy waits for the few seconds he takes to himself. When Castiel looks back up at her, his eyes are a brilliant blue color, the brightness shocking and unnatural. And the lights in the kitchen and living room flash on and off, no one physically flipping any switches. She can make out the shadow of massive, wide-spanning black wings. She sucks a breath in with the sight of what she only thought was impossible before now.

After a few moments Castiel puts his wings away, the room falling to the darkness of night again. Lizzy stands there shocked and speechless.

"They are intimidating, I know. I try to keep them hidden most of the time for that reason."

"Why are you here now?" Lizzy wants to know, fear pounding away in her chest.

"You have had a life that I would never want for you. The loss of your family, the pain of fighting all the evil you have, and now, losing Dean…."

"Don't!" she warns fairly, her chin already quivering with just the simple mention of his name. Her eyes rim with tears and Castiel can feel the pain radiating off of her.

"I will not speak of him much further as I understand the bond you two shared," Castiel agrees as she wipes away the tears that fell. "I never wished this heartache on you, Elizabeth."

She just looks at the floor, unable to speak without crying.

"I promise you, I have taken action. He is resting comfortably in the fields of the Lord."

Her face wrinkles in sheer pain when he says this, wishing to burn down those fields if it mean she could get him back.

While she's not looking, Castiel steps forward into her space, hugging her very unexpectedly.

Her instincts say to fight him, stab him with the knife in her hand, but she doesn't. Her being is suddenly filled with a warm sensation of comfort and love. She feels soothed somehow, and calmed. And the pain lessens for just the moment he's embracing her.

"It was you?" she asks quietly, her chin on his shoulder as his arms are still around her. The way he just made everything bearable makes her start to believe.

"Regretfully, yes," he answers, still holding her awkwardly yet with concern. "I couldn't let you be the one to do that. You'd never recover. You'd never be… Elizabeth again, not after that."

She nods her head slightly, agreeing with his assessment. "Are you really an angel?"

"Yes, I am," he tells her, backing away a step and looking at her.

"Then… bring him back," Lizzy asks of him, a lone tear rolling slowly down her cheek. "Please. If he's upstairs then just bring him back down."

The way her face pleads, looking to him with glassy, devastated eyes make his answer much harder to say. "I cannot do that."

"Why?"

"My Father does not wish it," Castiel simply explains. "Death is… final."

"I'm not ready to live without him," she cries. "Please, Castiel. Can't you do something? He was a good man. He deserves better."

"I completely agree," Castiel tells her. "I just can't do what you request. It's not in my power. My father hasn't willed it."

"Tell him he needs to reconsider."

"I cannot do that."

"Why not?'

"We don't speak to him directly… not most of us…."

"He won't even talk to you but you follow his orders anyways?"

He looks away. "It's very complicated…."

"Then screw your father!"

His face goes to stone when he looks back at her. "I wouldn't say such things if I were you."

"Sorry," she immediately apologizes, knowing she's crazy right now. She sniffles and looks around the room helplessly, wiping her eyes. "Can't blame a girl for trying, right?"

Castiel smiles sadly. "Not at all."

She takes a moment to settle and calm her crying before asking him, "Why are you here now? If you're an angel and you've been with me for a while and all… why bother now?"

"You are to play a very large part of the story."

"What story?"

"The Bible."

"I… uh, the Bible is a fucking book. It's got an ending. A pretty gnarly one too, if I remember…."

"Not yet," Castiel explains. "There has yet to play out the next chapter of the story."

"And I'm a part of it?" she asks, complete disbelieving him.

"You are the part of it," he tells her, once more reaching out to her. He places his hand, palm flat, against her lower stomach. "You are everything." He smiles quite warmly for such a stuffy being.

The way he touches her unexpectedly doesn't upset her in the least. Instead she's more confused than ever but she's not at all afraid of him.

"Believe me when I say the road won't be easy," Castiel explains very sternly yet keeps his kind contact with her, hand to stomach. "It will be fraught with difficulty, rife with challenges that seem far too big for a mere human to handle… but you are strong. You are different. And you are going to be magnificent as long as you stay on course, seek the light… and do not look to the darkness."

She just nods, not knowing what he's speaking about.

"Those of us on the good side of things have taken a hit, much like you have recently. I need you to be diligent. Keep evil away from you and away from your loved ones." The way he says it sounds like a frightening demand more than a request.

"O-ok," she nods, not understanding him at all.

"If you need me I will always be there for you. You just need to pray for me and I will hear you wherever you are," he tells her and her eyes open.

She can hear the knocking on the side door of Bobby's house as she's laying sideways on the couch alone. She sits up slowly, blanket on her lap, and rubs her face. She can feel the swollen, puffy eyes she's got and sighs.

What the hell was that dream?

She pulls herself up from the couch as she hears Karen open the side door. Immediately Karen is heard apologizing and saying kind words of sympathy and she knows who's on the other side of that doorway.

Karen steps aside and in walks the tall frame of Sam Winchester, the one person she's been horrified to see. Does he blame her? Will he think she fucked up and didn't have Dean's back? Or maybe that it's just simply her fault since Dean came with her in the first place?

When Sam looks to the side and sees her standing there looking just as terrible as he does, he watches her form tense with uncertainty. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing can manage its way out. Instead he moves quickly, marching for her as his eyes fill right up.

He hugs her hard, bending down to her height and catching her by total surprise. She wasn't ready for him to be looking for comfort from her at all. She assumed he hated her for what happened.

"Lizzy, I'm so sorry," he cries, his body already shaking with the sorrow.

She inhales sharply once with shock before crying herself. "Oh God, Sam. I'm sorry. You're brother… I… I'm so fucking sorry."

And they stay that way for a long time, both understanding everything that happened for what it was and needing each other more than they've ever needed anyone.


Standing outside behind the old farmhouse, Lizzy tries to keep breathing evenly as everything happens around her. She watched Sam and Bobby lift Dean's wrapped body up and onto the pyre of logs Bobby made the night before. She saw the gasoline being poured around the base, smelled it even, yet she felt numb.

Looking down at her fist she slowly opens it. There in the palm of her hand is the cheap, gold-plated wedding band he put on just a few weeks ago. It shines in the sunlight, the dent in it from when he threw a punch and missed one of the vampires they were fighting off just two days ago a reminder of why they're standing here now. That ring symbolizes their bond, their marriage, their link to each other. And he's not wearing it. Bobby took it off before wrapping him up tight. She's not sure if it was a good idea or not now. Seems odd that he wouldn't be wearing it. But, with their lives, they don't own much. She only has a handful of pictures of him as it is. Without this ring it might not even feel like he was ever real, maybe just a figment of her imagination.

But when she looks to the right she's reminded of how real Dean was. Sam's standing next to her, silent tears never once stopping since he arrived. He's looking at a gold pendant on a black cord, the necklace Dean never took off until right now. She watches him study it for a moment longer, sniffling once before lifting it up. He puts it on, pressing the little gold face to his chest once before dropping his arms to his sides, lost.

"Lizzy?" Bobby asks, holding out a lighter to her once everything was ready. She shakes her head no almost violently, not able to be the thing that starts the burning of Dean's body… a body she loves and will never once touch again.

Bobby then looks to Sam. He thinks for a moment, unsure, but steps up and takes the lighter. Before he's able to light the fire he fists the lighter and turns around to look at Bobby, Karen, and Lizzy.

"I don't… I'm not great, um… at speaking. Especially in times…." He sighs. "I just, um… thank you. Dean's never been… his life wasn't easy. And he never needed it to be easy. He was always a strong guy. But… I, uh… I have never seen my brother as happy as he was with all of you."

Lizzy hangs her head and gives in, letting her sobbing out.

"He never had a real family, not like most people do," Sam keeps going. "He had me but… that wasn't much. And I was a pain in the ass… or at least he told me that all the time." He smiles very quickly with that. He wipes his eyes. "Thank you for giving Dean purpose. He needed that. And he needed kindness to be shown to him. And a chance. You all gave him that… you gave him what I never could."

"We loved him," Karen says to him, explaining why they did what they did for Dean. She brings her arm around Lizzy's shoulders and pulls her close. "He was a very good man."

"I know," Sam nods. "I, uh… I can't believe he's gone." Bowing his head for a second, Sam lets go and cries right there. This is surreal. He spoke to Dean just days ago, the man happy and bright and excited about visiting his little brother soon. And now Sam's trying to deal with the idea that he'll never speak to his own brother, the one person he's ever had in his life, ever again.

He hears the gravel crunching and arms around his middle immediately. He doesn't need to look to know it's Lizzy. Blindly he hugs her back, hard. They sob together once more, unable to face this loss alone.

"You don't have to do this, son," Bobby tells Sam and takes the lighter from his hand. Sam lets him.

The fire goes up quickly and they all stand watch. Lizzy's hand is tightly woven into Sam's as they observe Dean's mortal form return to dust.

"I love you," Lizzy quietly whispers, her last words uttered for the next day.


"You know, I saw a picture of her. In Dean's room," Lizzy speaks up first, both having been silent since they got out of the Impala. They walk through the graveyard that's pleasantly quiet on a weekday, a mason jar in Sam's hand. Lizzy has a small shovel and a small potted Black Eyed Susan plant, the flower Dean always said was Mary's favorite.

"Of mom?" Sam guesses, looking to his side as they move.

"Yeah. I never told him I saw it but he had a picture of the two of them when Dean was probably four."

"Oh yeah," Sam nods, tone serious. "He wasn't four yet. Close. I know what one you're talking about. On his dresser?"

"That's the one," she quietly answers. "She's beautiful."

"She was," Sam nods, the subject a tough one for him. He never really got to know his mom. He has no memories of her because he was too young. He feels jipped.

"And he looked so happy just to be with her," Lizzy keeps going. "He loved her so much. I'm really glad you came up with this idea."

Sam just nods once and keeps walking, knowing right where he's going. When they reach the headstone he stops, looking down at the green grass around it. "The corner, there?" he points to the edge of the stone.

"Ok," she nods, getting down on the ground. She starts to dig a small hole off to the front side of Mary's grave. When she's done she backs up a little and sits Indian-style, patting the grass next to her.

Sam sits down with her and sets the mason jar in front of him. Immediately there's a hand linked in his, holding hard. When he looks at her she looks devastated all over again.

"Sam, I really am sorry about all this."

"We've been over this, Lizzy…."

"No, I know… I just still feel guilty," Lizzy says, a single tear falling down her cheek.

"Don't do that to yourself," Sam tells her. "Dean chose this life. It's no one's fault that… this is the outcome. Especially not yours."

"God damn it am I lucky you're understanding."

Sam just give her a fake smile and looks back down at the jar. "Doesn't seem right."

"What?"

"Dean just always felt… bigger than life," Sam explains, holding his tears back if he can. "Doesn't feel like he fits in there."

"Oh God no," Lizzy half laughs, half cries. "That personality doesn't fit in a fucking jar."

Sam huffs sadly at that.

"And I loved that personality."

"I know you did," Sam nods.

"I just… loved him… so fucking much," Lizzy tells Sam, her grip tightening. "He was it for me. I know it."

"Don't say that…." Sam tries to calm her but it doesn't work.

"Sam, stop it. Dean was my… one," she tells him, crying yet again. "I know you think I'm just mourning or really upset but I'm not gonna love anyone like that ever again. I'm not."

Sam lets her hand go to pulls her into his side. Over the past months they got to know each other. They spoke on the phone as Lizzy checked on Sam and answered his questions when Dean and he would have their every other day conversation. And in the past three days especially they've been in the same boat of mourning and had only each other to hang onto. When Sam presses a quick kiss to her hair it's out of mutual understanding and shared loss.

"I'm glad he got to have you before… this happened," Sam lets her know. "It's harder for you now but… at least Dean was happy."

"I wouldn't take any of it back," Lizzy assures him.

Sam takes his arm back and picks up the jar. He opens it. He doesn't have anything he can say as, luckily, he knows Dean always knew it all. From his thankfulness for all Dean has done for him in his life to the love they had for each other as they only ever had each other, Dean knew everything.

Lizzy silently watches Sam pour the ashes into the hole she dug, knowing how appreciative Dean would be that he's by his mother's side. His love for her was so strong and never-ending that there is no better place for him to rest. Half his ashes are at Bobby's where Lizzy can easily visit him, half with his long lost mother.

Once that's done, Lizzy loosens the potted plant from the plastic pot in came in. She places it over the ashes and fills some dirt around it, planting it securely there. She sniffles a few times as she does it and once it's done Sam's handing her a tissue.

"Thanks," she smiles lightly, blowing her nose. When done she looks at Sam. "So, um… John couldn't make it?"

"No," Sam answers quickly.

"What did he have to say about all this?"

He looks at her guiltily. "Nothing."

"Nothing!?" she asks, already outraged.

"Nope."

She looks at him funny when she thinks she gets it. "Did you tell him?"

"I can't."

"What!? Why not?"

"He's, uh…." Sam looks down at the grass, not happy that he has to speak such truths in front of his mother's grave. "I don't think he's gonna be around much longer."

Lizzy just stares at him with wide eyes. "What does that mean?"

"I was gonna tell Dean when he came to visit," Sam says quietly. "Dad took a turn for the worst."

"How so?"

"He found out that Dean left after I moved out… and he didn't take it well. He started drinking more. He was hospitalized for a few days after I found him passed out when I went to check on him. He threw up in his sleep and I couldn't wake him up. I thought he was already dead…."

"Jesus…."

"They said he had severe liver damage and needed medical attention. He was supposed to stay in the hospital for a while, for treatment," Sam keeps going, glancing at his mother's grave stone with absolute guilt. "He, of course, wouldn't listen. Instead he signed himself out of the hospital and went home. I'm just waiting for the day I show up and find him dead for real at this point since he's just been drinking alone."

Lizzy's face falls hard. "Sam."

"What?"

She shakes her head and kneels up off the grass. She hugs him hard, shattered over what he tells her. "You have had it so hard…."

"I'm fine," Sam coldly answers.

"You can't be," Lizzy denies him, holding him hard.

"I deal with it," Sam tells her, pushing her gently away. "This was dad's path all along. Dean and I knew it'd end this way at some point. We tried for years to get him help but you can't get help for someone that doesn't want it."

Lizzy just keeps quiet. It isn't her family. Maybe it is, she did marry Dean, but she's never even really met John.

"You alright to go?" Sam asks, ready to get away and get back home. This has all been awful. Anything normal sounds damn good right about now.

Looking at the bright yellow flowers, Lizzy grabs the gold chain around her neck. She spins the wedding band on it, missing him so hard she can't believe she's still breathing. "No." Her voice is elevated, ready to cry again. "But we should go. Find a place to crash in a few hours and make it a long drive tomorrow."

"Ok," Sam nods and stands up. He holds out his hand and she takes it. Once he pulls her up they head back for the Impala, heading towards wherever it is this shit life is supposed to lead them next.


"Come on in," Sam says to her as he unlocks and opens the door to his basic apartment in the complex near campus. He steps aside and Lizzy walks in with her one bag of possessions over her shoulder.

Two steps in and she stands still, taking in the sparse surroundings. A single couch, an old TV tray holding an even older television, and a small table with only two chairs. "Wow. I love what you've done with the place."

"Shut up," Sam says to her as he closes the door and stands next to her. "All I do is sleep and study here. Plus, you know, I didn't have much money."

Lizzy looks up at him. "I thought Dean told you to call him if you ran low on funds?"

"I could eat. I could pay the bills. That's all I was ever gonna ask of him." Sam says it with annoyance and true sorrow.

"I understand that," Lizzy nods at him. She then looks down the small hallway. "How many bedrooms?"

"One," Sam answers while heading down said hallway. "You can take the bed for now. The couch is a pullout and I can make that work."

"Yeah fucking right," Lizzy scoffs, dropping her back by the side of the couch. "This is your place. You keep your room."

"It's fine, Lizzy," Sam yells out to her.

"Fuck you, Sam," she loudly answers back, already pulling the cushions off the couch. "You're not gonna win."

"Watch me," he defiantly says to her, walking into the room with a set of sheets, a pillow, and a comforter.

"Boy, you really don't know me that well," she scoffs a little, pulling the bed out.

"You don't know me very well either."

"Yes I do."

"How could you?"

"Dean always tells me…" and she pauses there. She's speaking of him in the present, living tense. She sighs heavily. "He always told me tons about you. I feel like I know you already."

The way her attitude plummets lets Sam know he needs to tread lightly. "You can talk about him, Lizzy."

"I don't want to… even though I want to," she says, her voice sounding like a question. "I... I don't know what I feel like doing. Shit, I don't know anything anymore." She plops down onto the end of the pullout mattress and hunches her back, moping like she should.

"No one's asking anything of you right now," Sam tells her. "I have no idea what the hell I'm gonna do either, if that helps." He laughs sadly, sitting next to her. "Maybe we can just not know what the fuck we'd doing together, huh?"

"Yeah," Lizzy nods, staying hunched. "He loved you, Sam. More than he loved me."

"Not at all possible," Sam scoffs, keeping his sorrow in check if he can manage. "He was obsessed with you."

Lizzy smiles sadly. "Yeah, well, I was pretty obsessed with him too so..."

The room grows quiet, both clearly having a moment of remembrance. The impact Dean's life has left on these two is immeasurable.

"Sam, go to bed," Lizzy tells him. "You have to be exhausted."

"I am," he nods. "And I might try to get to classes tomorrow."

"Really!? You could do that?"

"All Dean wanted was for me to live a normal life," Sam shrugs it off. "Normal for me is school. I'm gonna make sure he gets what he always wanted."

Lizzy smiles as her eyes fill up. "I swear that's really the only thing he ever wanted."

"Well, he better be proud then when I make it happen, then," Sam says to her.

She looks at him for a second, shocked at how well he's able to maintain and keep focused on a goal to get by. "Go to sleep."

"You're on my bed," Sam tells her quickly.

"Fuck that," Lizzy tells him, wiping her eyes before the tears could fall. "You have shit to do tomorrow. The only thing I'm gonna do tomorrow drink my ass off. Get to your room."

"Fine… bossy," Sam bitches lightly and gets up. "If you need anything let me know. You have free reign of the place. What's mine is yours and all."

"Thank you," Lizzy appreciates.

They share a quick glance of awkwardness before he disappears down the hall. As she readies her bed for the night, putting on the sheets and blanket, she fluffs the pillow and gets comfortable. Turning on the television with the old remote, she kicks off her boots and strips down. She's too emotionally exhausted to think about properly preparing for bed. In just her tank top and underwear she crawls under the covers.

Once settled she gets irreversibly depressed. TV at bedtime. This was their ritual. She and Dean would get comfortable under the covers, fight over what to watch, decide on something neutral, and usually end up sweaty and saying each other's names within moans before they actually went to sleep if they weren't exhausted from their latest hunt.

Those days are gone. Dean won't poke fun of her want to watch reality crap shows over Ghostbusters for the millionth time and he certainly won't have her shaking with satisfaction before falling asleep with his arms around her any time soon.

It's too much to handle. The thought breaks her.

"I miss you so much," she whispers out to the air, covering her face as she sits up, crying yet again.

It's all she does these days. She's getting sick of it but can't do a damn thing about it. The tears don't stop. They just won't.

"Baby, what do I do without you?" she sobs quietly into her hands and tries her hardest to breathe. "We were supposed to be happy…."

She stops talking mostly to herself when she hears it. A sniffle that she knows was supposed to be quieter. It came from down the hallway.

Sam's in just about the same state she is right now, what she saw before he went to his room a front. They're both miserable… but does she go to him? They know each other somewhat but they've never spent all that much time together. It might be overstepping some boundaries if she just assumes he'd want her presence right now.

But then again, what do boundaries even mean anymore? After all they've been through? After all the pain they've both felt? Fuck boundaries. Whatever proper is, it sounds like bullshit when the world has decided you're its punching bag.

Wiping her face roughly, Lizzy gets out of her makeshift bed. With unsure steps she starts down the very short hallway. She reaches his door and stops for a moment. It's halfway open and she can hear him sighing, most definitely crying. When she peeks in she can just make out the shape of a figure sitting on the edge of the mattress facing away from her, head hung low and shoulders slumped. His back is shaking with his sadness and Lizzy's chest hurts for him, knowing he's lost the one remaining family member he had that truly gave a shit about him.

It's all unfair. And he shouldn't have to deal with this alone.

Uninvited, Lizzy walks quietly into Sam's bedroom. She climbs onto his bed and most likely is being very presumptuous when she reaches out for him. Kneeling behind him, Lizzy brings her arms around his shoulders and rests her chin on his right shoulder, putting them cheek to cheek.

Sam doesn't even flinch. He won't admit it but he needed this. Instead of ask her to leave like he would in most cases, Sam brings his hands up and grabs onto her forearms around his upper chest. He cries even harder now that she's here, like her company is the permission he needs to be this sad and this miserable.

And Lizzy lets herself go too. They don't say a word, they don't speak about the past or of the man they miss horribly. They simply exist in their mourning state together.


Startled awake by the usual annoying sound of the alarm on his phone, Sam's eyes open wide. He reaches for the small table he got at a yard sale next to his bed and grabs the phone, silencing the blaring sound as soon as he can possibly do it.

Dropping his phone on his blanket covered chest once he rolls onto his back, he feels like he got maybe two hours tops. His eyes are worn and puffy, he can tell already, and this idea to head right back into classes suddenly seems like the worst fucking idea he's ever had. Staying in bed, covers pulled over his head and real world shut completely out, sounds like a far more comfortable day than pretending to be fine and attempting to listen to what a professor has to say.

Everything feels wrong.

Sam looks to his side and finds Lizzy there, a couple inches put between them. She's lying on her back and staring hard at the white ceiling, still as can be. Her hands are folded on top of the blanket. She looks wide awake and her eyes are dark circled.

"Lizzy?" Sam calls her name while slowly sitting up. She doesn't move. He tries again. "Lizzy, did you sleep at all?"

"No," she answers singularly, eyes blinking once and remaining at the ceiling.

He sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes. "You gotta get some sleep soon."

She doesn't answer him, just keeps staring.

"I have to get up," Sam tells her, standing out of bed and walking to his dresser in the sparse room. He grabs a pair of jeans and figures it's enough. He can keep his old t-shirt on and get by. "You can stay here if you want… maybe sleep."

She still doesn't answer.

"I'll call Bobby if you want, before I go…."

"I'll call him."

He's relieved that she spoke, even if it's that one simple sentence. "Ok." He starts for the door, thinking he should shower and try to be presentable as much as he truly doesn't want to. He just wants to sleep forever. But Dean wanted him to get his education and succeed in life. He owes his brother that much. "You need anything? Money or… I don't know?"

"Still have my credit cards."

"Aren't they fraudulent?"

"They work."

He knows that means yes. "I have money saved if you need anything at all."

"I'm fine, Sam. Go to class," Lizzy says to the ceiling.

"Can you at least look at me once so I feel better about leaving you here?" Sam asks of her, his gut telling him not to let her stay there alone.

Lizzy lifts her head and looks blankly at Sam in the bedroom doorway. She doesn't say anything but her lack of expression and hollow looking eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"I can stay."

"Leave." She turns over in bed and looks away from him. "Keep your promise to your brother."

Knowing he could regret it, Sam leaves the room.


A good quarter of the fifth she bought at the store down the street gone and Lizzy builds up her nerve enough to do it.

Dean's bag has been sitting by the apartment door since the night before, Sam having brought it in from the Impala. It's just been glaring at her with hate all day and she's had it.

Pulling the backpack into her lap while on the carpet Indian-style, Lizzy takes a huge swig of Jameson and plops the bottle next to her. The pain has been dulled just enough to manage.

Unzipping the main compartment, she's immediately greeting with his scent. She reaches for his favorite t-shirt, the AC/DC tour t-shirt from the seventies that they found at a thrift shop in Michigan while on the road. He never stopped wearing that thing and he hadn't had a chance to clean it after last having it on.

Inhaling into the black cloth, Lizzy thanks God that he never washed it. As a combination of shaving cream, sandalwood, and leather from the jacket he always wore surrounds her, she feels like he's right there next to her. Just for a second she could fool herself of it. But it's a lie.

She pulls the t-shirt over her tank top and lets the smell remain with her as she keeps going. She digs through his clothing one piece at a time, folding each one as she goes. When there's a pile next to her and the main compartment is empty she moves on to the smaller pockets on the front.

The first thing she finds is his wallet. She opens it up, sees his face on his license and wants to die. He's so painfully handsome. And he looks so horribly alive.

Nothing but a couple bucks and a few bunk credit cards.

Also in that pocket are his assorted fake I.D.s, a small flask of holy water, extra clip for his Colt, and his journal.

His journal. She gave that to him a month back, telling him he should keep one. He didn't get why they both needed a journal but she insisted that he try. She never once saw him write in it unless he was forced.

So she assumes she'll find mostly empty pages when she opens it but she's happily wrong when she does. First she sees the stack of pictures in the front inside pocket. Taking them out, she flips through them one at a time. They're all the pictures from the refrigerator at his house in Stanford. Mostly frozen shots of he and his brother growing up, there's also a few of Mary and John and one of all four of them. The last one he sees is the picture of Mary and Dean that she saw on Dean's nightstand before he left to train with Bobby.

All these memories Dean held in his heart, all of them good. He had that. She's so happy he had that, even if it never lasted.

Pulling that picture, Dean's clear favorite, out of the stack she sets it aside, planning on keeping it.

Lizzy then takes a look at the journal. On page one is Dean's name, some doodling of nothing much, and it reminds her of a bored high school kid's notebook. She smiles slightly, knowing that's her man. A kid at heart.

When she starts to flip through she mostly finds pages on monsters, ones they've hunted specifically, and each one is unfinished. He didn't have the attention span to finish a single one. He warned her this wasn't his thing. She should have listened.

She then flips to the next page and stops. His block-letter handwriting covers the page and then some yet it isn't about a monster or a demon.

You passed out on me. Can't believe it. Not once have you done that but here we are, four days in and already we're that married couple that falls asleep without getting any nookie in. I'm so disappointed in us.

Actually, I'm not. I'm not disappointed even a little bit. You earned a good night's sleep. I've never seen anyone do what you did today. While I followed you around like a lost, worthless puppy, taking orders and getting what you needed done, you took charge. You killed that ghoul, you showed me how to salt and burn a body in the middle of a city with nowhere to go, you dug and buried it with me, and you did all that before going back to the family it tormented and comforting them through a seriously terrible loss.

Never in my life have I felt that kind of pride in someone not named Sam.

You know I love you and why I married you… mostly. I think you're beautiful and kind and strong. And you know I just wanted legal rights to your body for the rest of our lives. But it's more than that. You're the best person I know. You're good through and through and I doubt you have the first clue of how true it is. Maybe that's why I'm here. To make sure you know you're so fucking awesome. Guess I found yet another calling in life, right?

I know we're doing some serious good out here, saving people and all, but I'm ready to head back to California and bring you with me. I know how hard it'll be for you, living in one place and not hunting all the time, but I think it'll be good. You deserve a rest. You've been at it for years.

We're going to be normal… relatively. We can hunt now and then around Stanford if anything kicks up and we'll keep our eyes open for Sammy, keep him safe. But I want so much more for you. I want to get a house together, move Sam there while he finishes up school. It'll take a while to save that kind of money but I can work overtime at the garage as much as possible and you can get a job doing… shit, I don't even know what you might want to do. I should probably ask you that. We'll save until we can get something small and then, when we do… I want a family. I want kids. I want to see you be a mom because I know you'll kick ass at it. I want it to be you and me and our rugrats running around and we're going to be happy. And yes, I just grew lady parts. Who the hell have I become?

Alright, I just rambled for about an hour in this thing and I'm pretty sure this isn't what it's supposed to be for. I blame you mostly, since you left me high and dry and bored. And I'm sure you'll tell me I'm not supposed to write this stuff in here the next time you check on my progress like some school teacher. Hey, maybe that's what you should do. School teacher. You'd be great at that. And, honestly, get you some black rimmed glasses and tight pencil skirt, maybe a ruler… my, my, Mrs. Winchester. I think I just found the inspiration to take care of myself tonight.

Lizzy really can't stop the laugh she lets out quietly after reading that entry. School teacher. Leave it to her husband to find a way to take a lovely, truly sweet moment and turn it into sex.

But then she remembers she won't ever get to fulfill that fantasy for him and the complete sorrow takes over her being. That would have been fun.

And having a life like the one they spoke of, like the one he wrote about, would have been so wonderful. They didn't talk much past heading back to Stanford and keeping close to Sam for obvious reasons. He never told her he wanted to buy her a house. And he never once mentioned that he wanted to have children with her.

Hand pressed to her mouth, she cries freely now. She can practically see it all. A small, three bedroom (if they were lucky) house in some suburban area. Green grass, blue with white trim, cozy. Dean would mow the law on Sundays and she'd have a garden out back. They'd have two kids, a boy that looked just like their handsome daddy and a little blonde-haired girl named Louise, after her sister and best friend.

"We would have been so happy," she says to herself as her tears fall, splashing on the page and making one of the words run. "Shit!" She pulls the journal to the side before wiping her eyes, not daring to ruin any little thing she has left of him. She could practically hear his voice, the low gravelly tone as he spoke these words. They're so very him.

She turns the page and finds another half-finished entry on ghosts and their sometimes ability to travel. He got most of it down but gave up on the ending. That's more like him. The rest it empty… and always will be.

Taking a second to control her emotional moment, Lizzy calms enough to keep digging. She finds a flask Bobby chose to give him. It's filled with bourbon. She sets that aside for herself. There's his toothbrush, his razor and shaving cream, a little jar of hair pomade (she used to make fun of him for that), deodorant, some laundry detergent he didn't use in their last trip, a large hunting knife, lock pick set, a couple box cutters, and the iPod she got for him with her last fraudulent credit card before getting rid of it.

She turns the iPod on and scrolls through. Mostly classic rock, some blues here and there, some more modern stuff like The Black Keys and Rival Sons… and one single playlist. It only has ten songs on it as she knows he had a hard enough time getting even a single song onto the piece of technology he was previously unaware of but by the name of it, Liz, it was about her.

Whole Lotta Love, Lady, Us and Them, Cherry Pie, No One Like You, Harvest Moon, You Really Got Me, Love Her Madly, Thank You, Fuck Her Gently.

She laughs when she reads the last song on the playlist. Lizzy knows he added this one just recently after the conversation they had over the merits of a good, hard fuck versus the loving, connected, meaningful fuck. It was a debate for a moment, Dean on the side of hard and Lizzy on the side of gentle, and by the end they flipped positions on the matter and agreed to see both as wonderful options.

He added that song because it reminded him of that conversation and of her.

Everything he did was either for her or for Sam. She's not sure she'll ever find some one that will honestly care about her that much again.

Picking up the iPod, she scrolls through the songs. She chooses Thank You as it's a favorite of both of them and presses play, putting in the earbuds that had been wrapped around the small player.

The song, quite beautiful with a message even more beautiful, plays through her head and she closes her eyes, her hand pressed to the open page of the journal. If she thinks hard enough, listens and feels the paper he wrote on, smells the t-shirt she's wearing, she can pretend he's there with her. The whiskey on her tongue from the flask, the scent of his skin, the sound of the music he'd choose when they had a few moments or were driving to their next case… it's so real it hurts. These were the little things that made being with Dean so perfect.

The hand that lands on her shoulder knocks her hard out of her revelry. Her hand flies to the large hunting knife, grabbing the handle hard at the same time she locks a hand around the wrist near her shoulder. She yanks the arm close and brings the knife to the throat of the intruder, eyes flying open to look up.

"What the fuck!?" Sam shouts and tries to wrench his arm away from her hold. Lizzy lets go and exhales hard.

"Holy shit, you scared me," she mutters, lowering her weapon without letting it go and taking her grip off of Sam. Sam stands tall and backs away.

"I scared you!?" Sam yells at her angrily. "I thought you were gonna kill me!"

"Sorry," she sheepishly apologizes. "I should have warned you not to creep up on me."

"I didn't," he fires back. "I called you're name, like, three times. Damn it."

"I'm really sorry. I got…." She looks around her at all of Dean's belongings. She looks pathetic and knows it. "Lost. In all this."

"I can see that," Sam bitches as he huffs a few times, trying to shake off the scare she gave him. "You going through Dean's stuff?"

"Yeah," she answers, wiping her eyes and cheeks yet again.

"That's probably not a good idea," Sam tells her. "Why torture yourself like that?"

Lizzy can't respond. She just shrugs her shoulders.

"Come on," Sam says to her and holds out a hand. "Get up."

"Why?"

"Did you sleep today? At all?" he asks her while picking her up by the upper arm without her consent.

"No," she tells him, bringing the whiskey with her and taking a large gulp.

"Ah, you meant it when you said you were gonna drink all day," Sam comments. "I was hoping that was a joke."

"Nope," she quickly answers.

One look at her and he's severely worried. "Did Dean ask you to do anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"He always wanted me to go to school and be better than what we came out of," Sam explains himself. "So I know what Dean wants from me. I'm gonna go to school and finish. I'll be a lawyer like I always wanted because he wanted that for me more than I wanted that for me."

"He sure did," she assures him.

"Well… what did he want you to do?"

Lizzy's face wrinkles in the telltale sign of pending sorrow.

"Ok, ok. Never mind," Sam says when he knows she'll just cry again. "Don't tell me, ok? Just think about what he asked you to do and focus on that."

"I can't," Lizzy's choked voice tells him, knowing he wanted her to move on, watch Sam, and live a life without him happily.

"You can. And you will. Because we owe that to Dean. Focus on what he asked you to do and don't fall into this too hard. The only thing getting me by right now is the fact that if I don't finish school Dean would want to kick my ass."

Lizzy nods and accepts this plan for herself. It's a good one. She needs to figure this out before she gives in to the depression fully. Dean would never want that for her.

"Can't I drink for today though?" Lizzy asks with a pitiful smile.

Without answering, Sam glances at her bottle in hand before he walks to the kitchenette. He grabs two glasses and walks for the couch. After folding it back up and replacing the cushions he sits down. "Come here."

Lizzy sits next to him and he takes the bottle. He pours a good amount of alcohol into each glass and hands her one.

"You can drink for today… as long as you let me join you," Sam gives his stipulation.

Nodding, Lizzy sits back and takes an enormous sip, wincing with the massive burn. They then remain like that until Lizzy finally falls asleep, or blacks out honestly.

Sam covers her with a blanket, grabs the very little left in the bottle, and heads for his room. Glancing at his books on the desk he scoffs, sitting on his bed and drinking down the very last of the whiskey. All the fears and uncertainties Lizzy's feeling are the exact same he's feeling. But he's got to fight it. He has to make Dean proud up there, just like his mom.

"Damn it, Dean," Sam sobs out, the sadness always seeming to win out. "Why did you have to go and do this?"