AN: Same disclaimers, warnings, and run-on sentences.
They were on the road in under an hour (leaving the still healing Cas at home), though Dean later wouldn't remember packing or making any kind of preparations. In fact, they were seeing signs for Lincoln before it occurred to Dean that Sam was driving and wonder how that had happened.
Dean couldn't hear anything except Lisa's heartrate, and he was so very, very hungry. Her heartrate picked up, hypnotic and calling to him, her fear intoxicating. She was trapped. She was his. Her blood…oh no, no, no, no. He recoiled in horror. There were fangs in his mouth. He was the monster now, and he was going to –
"I have to go." He covered his mouth, hatred for himself washing through him. Then…no, please. Another heartbeat. Fast, young. Easy prey. And the smell…the most delicious thing he'd ever…but it was Ben.
Panic replaced the hunger, the hatred, everything. "Ben, just stay there." He heard the pleading quality in his own voice. Please, stay there, he thought. I can't hurt you. I can't.
Ben was tired, confused. "I thought I heard you – "
The panic, the bloodlust, it all mixed together in a burst of red behind Dean's eyelids. He shouted at Ben, he pushed him aside hard and ran.
Sam had explained some things already. Like the fact that Lisa and Braeden had ended up back in Battle Creek, Michigan, where Lisa had grown up. And that Sam had quietly gone back to them and suggested they move. Dean was humbled to hear that Sam had kept an eye on them, having hunters swing by to check on them and renew the protections Sam had put in place on and around their house. And he'd left his number with Lisa, telling her obliquely to call him if her memories started not making sense.
Dean clutched his phone so hard it creaked in his grip. He owed it to Lisa to listen, but he knew the curse would make her spew truth that would burn him like acid. And as much as she was right about Sam, she was wrong too.
"The minute he walked through that door, I knew. It was over. You two have the most unhealthy, tangled up, crazy thing I've ever seen. As long as he's in your life, you're never going to be happy."
But Sam was Dean's happy, his only road to happy, and Dean knew that, just as much as he knew it wasn't fair for him to drag Lisa and Ben into his life, into the danger in the dark. He wanted to protect them, but the best way to do that was to keep his distance. He would protect Sam, too, but he'd do that at Sam's side, and that would always be the difference between Sam and…anyone.
"Me and Ben can't be with you. I'm sorry."
She was right. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. And it would always hurt.
Leave it to Sam's big brain to figure out that even angel's memory tampering wasn't perfect, not when it involved such a big part of life. How did you get rid of an entire year of living and loving? Of shared meals and laughter and tears? Hell, Dean had known it, too, if he'd only let himself. Instead, he'd avoided the truth as they got caught up in shitstorm after shitstorm. Dean's head sank lower and lower the more he thought about it. The thought of Lisa and Ben being hurt…more hurt…because of him had paralyzed him. He'd shoved the pain down harder and harder and harder until it bubbled out as anger. Until he had threatened his brother – his beat-to-shit-by-demons little brother – with a broken nose if he so much as mentioned their names. And at the moment, he'd wanted Sam to give him a reason to throw a punch.
Lisa fell to the floor with a cry, the demon gone and the cruel wound in her abdomen gushing dark blood. Dean couldn't reach Sam, couldn't stop the bleeding, and couldn't get Ben to do what he needed to do. Dammit, the kid hadn't been trained, and Dean didn't want him to have to be. Except right now, he needed him. Hating himself, on the verge of panic, Dean slapped Ben.
"Come on, pull it together. Do you want your mom to die?" It was cruel. It was necessary. Dean would never forget it. And maybe, he'd never understood his father better.
"It's the worst thing you've ever done," Sam had said of taking their memories. But he hadn't said it to be nasty or out of callousness. Dean knew that. He'd said it as someone who'd had his mind messed with. He'd said it as a plea for Dean to reconsider.
It wasn't the worst thing he'd ever done. Not even close. And Dean still didn't know if it was the right thing or not. But he did know that his big-hearted brother had earned his eternal gratitude for stepping in and doing what Dean couldn't. And he'd done it without ever expecting Dean to find out.
"There's more," Sam said hesitantly. "If you're ready to hear it."
Dean nodded, numb now. They were already leaving Lasalle, and Dean noted that they'd been on the road for something like eight hours now. He should be shocked that he'd zoned out that long, watching some of his worst memories go by on replay. He didn't even remember drinking coffee, though there was a nearly empty cup in his hand. Hell, he didn't remember stopping for it, or for the gas they must have needed twice by now. That should probably worry him, but it didn't.
"She called me about three years ago. Lisa did." Sam was talking in a calm, reasoned voice with none of the stuttering or insecurity he sometimes had. Dean vaguely realized that he was using a tone almost like the one he used for grieving witnesses. If it had been patronizing or condescending, Dean might have dredged up the energy to complain, but it wasn't. Sam was giving him the facts as clearly and concisely as he could, trusting that Dean could handle it. "She remembered too much to let it go, and she remembered me. Ben remembered even more, so I met Lisa and told her the basics."
"Did she…did they…?" Dean didn't know exactly what he wanted to ask.
But Sam seemed to understand. "She was quiet and calm. I think she didn't know what to feel. I only talked to Lisa, not Ben, but she said he was healthy and doing well. I, uh, I gave her Cas' and Garth's numbers too, uh…"
Sam was hesitant for the first time, and Dean did a little math in his head. Three years ago had been when Sam was smack in the middle of the effing trials. He'd probably looked like shit. He probably had been worried that he was going to die, and had made other provisions to look after Lisa and Ben. And he still hadn't wanted to dump it on Dean. Damn he loved that stupid guy next to him.
"Ben's doing great in Battle Creek," Sam added, for once not following Dean's thoughts. "Sounds like he's on the honor roll almost every semester." Sam paused, and Dean realized that he was waiting for a response.
"Is?" Dean asked instead of what he really wanted to ask.
"Lisa and I talk about every six or eight weeks." There was that calm tone again.
Dean guessed that Sam didn't know how he'd react. Or maybe he thought Dean would be angry. Well, Dean didn't know how to react. But he wasn't angry. If anything, he was grateful. He swallowed down the rug in his throat and willed Sam to continue.
"Ben's more worried about girls and his batting average and getting his driver's license than school, but his grades are good. It sounds like Lisa is…was going to give him the option of whether or not to contact you when he's a little bit older."
Dean was so damn glad Sam didn't look at him. He stared at the setting sun until he could blame it for his stinging eyes. "Okay," he said, though it wasn't. None of it was. "Okay. Now I need some coffee and some music for a while."
"Sure. I'll even concede the choice of music," Sam smiled. "Because I'm awesome like that."
You are awesome, Dean thought, appreciating the effort. Knowing he'd appreciate everything, once he could feel again, once he could breathe past this tearing open of a wound he'd thought was nothing but one more scar. He didn't say any of that, of course. Instead he snorted and just pushed in whatever tape was playing last. It turned out to be Bruce Springsteen's album Rising. The Boss wasn't Dean's normal thing, but for whatever reason, he'd fallen in love with that album. A few weeks earlier, Sam had actually found it on cassette tape somehow – probably some internet wizardry – and Dean hadn't even listened to the whole thing yet. He let the unique voice call to him, and welcomed the pain from the words as My City in Ruins filled the car.
There's a bloodred circle
On the cold dark ground
And the rain is falling down
The church door's open
I can hear the organ's song
But the congregation's gone.
Now the sweet bells of mercy
Drift through the trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows
The empty streets
While my brother's down on his knees.
Now there's tears on the pillow
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Tell me how do I begin again?
My city's in ruins.