Happy Hump day, everyone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 5 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone's shifted.
Ben and Lisa are in the living room now, talking in low voices. Sam and Dean are in the kitchen, not talking at all. Sam's not really sure what to say, and Dean's not offering much. He's leaning back against the countertop, picking at one of the cabinets with those forever-twitching fingers of his, letting tiny slivers of wood float onto the tiled floor and be lost.
"We shouldn't be here, Sam," he says suddenly, not looking at his brother. Fingers still working.
"Maybe...maybe this is what Ben needs?" Sam suggests. "Maybe he just needed to say goodbye to his mom."
"I...we shouldn't have come," Dean insists, tearing off an especially gnarly piece of wood. He seems to realize what he's doing and stops, staring at the sliver in his hand before he lets it fall to join the rest.
"Dean. You know you never could've said no to him." This much Sam knows to be true. Whether or not it was right of them to come, there's no way Dean would ever deny Ben this last thing. "The decision was made the second he asked. I know it's hard to be here. I can't imagine what it's like. But maybe there's a reason. Maybe it's a good one."
Dean sniffs, shifting against the counter. He nods a little, like he wants to agree but can't. From the next room over, Lisa's voice carries down the hall, high and harsh. Dean takes a step forward like he wants to go to her, but stops halfway. Sam watches his brother's back, tension rolling off of it in waves. There is more silence. Dean's the one to break it again.
"Do you think she…?" Dean stops, huffs out a breath. He turns back to face Sam again, eyes a little haunted.
"Think she what, Dean?" Sam asks when his brother fails to finish the thought, just stands there shifting from foot to foot.
"Nothing. Never mind."
"Got nothing to do but talk here, man. If something's bugging you, maybe I can help."
"I mean she never really knew me, you know? So how could she even know if I...if something changed?" Dean asks. "You know it, because we've lived in each other's pockets our whole lives. But with her? I was just a shell, you know? Just grief and not a whole lot else. But she...there was a moment in there. She stepped away from me like she didn't recognize me. Like she was afraid."
Sam's heart drops. "Dean. Lisa knows you could never hurt her."
Dean hums a little, and Sam can't tell if it's an affirmation or not.
"You couldn't," Sam insists, and he means it. "No matter what's changed, that hasn't. I know that much."
Dean's lip twitches a little. "I gotta get some air."
"Dean, wait. Man...wait."
But Dean's already gone, down the hall and out the door before Sam can figure out the words that might make him stay. He knows Purgatory tore away a few pieces of his brother, but it scares Sam to know that Dean might think some of those pieces were the vital ones that defined him. Sam knows better. He hopes he knows better. Sure, Dean has a hard time with mattresses nowadays and Sam hears him pacing the room well into the morning and sometimes he gets overwhelmed staring at a breakfast menu, like he's not sure why it matters as long as it's enough food to fill his stomach and keep him alive. But he's still Dean. In all the ways that matter, he's managed to hold onto himself. Ridiculously, perhaps irrationally, Sam would expect nothing less.
The guilt finds him then, as it always does when he thinks of these things. He should've looked. Should've guessed that with their track record, Dean wouldn't have been lucky enough to end up in Heaven. Of course it wouldn't be that simple for them. His thoughts are cut short by Lisa's entrance into the kitchen. She's wiping tears from her eyes, Ben coming into view just a few paces behind.
"Where's Dean?" she sniffs.
"He uh...he stepped out for a minute," Sam answers, suddenly uncomfortable. Lisa has always been a part of Dean that Sam never saw up close. She was a mystery to him, known only as the woman he'd wished could bring his brother happiness in the wake of his absence. Maybe it was wrong to think of her like that, in such one-dimensional terms. Especially now that she's standing in front of him like this, all her layers exposed. It feels like something Sam was never supposed to see.
"Never mind," Lisa says, urging him back to the conversation and her searching eyes. She is pulling herself together right in front of him, each word coming stronger and surer than the last. Sam watches with admiration. "Just. Can you tell me...how do we fix this? How do I help my son?"
Sam sighs, not sure if it's his place. But Dean isn't back yet and Ben is looking at him pleadingly, so Sam answers as best he can. "As difficult as it is, the only thing left to do now is to help Ben let go."
Lisa nods, letting out a low breath. "And why hasn't he done that?"
"Honestly, I don't know," Sam admits. "We thought our visit might do the trick. Sometimes when a spirit can't move on, it's because they feel there's some unfinished business. Ben believed you and Dean had to see each other again. That he might be able to help in some way."
Lisa laughs, low and humorless. "Doesn't seem like that's the solution. So what's next?"
Sam winces a little at that laugh. He thinks for a moment.
"Is there something significant of Ben's?" he asks. "Something his spirit might be latched onto?"
Lisa shrugs, running her tongue along her teeth. "I haven't gotten rid of anything. I haven't...his room is the way it was. I left everything. I couldn't…"
Sam reaches out to touch her arm, cutting her off before she has to say more. "I understand. It's possible he's being tied to something here, but it's strange that he'd be able to travel freely without carrying it with him." Sam lets his hand fall away from her shoulder, turns to Ben. "Ben, do you have anything with you? Something you've been carrying around?"
Ben shakes his head. "Pockets are empty, see?" He turns his pockets inside out. Nothing falls out. Lisa moves to the other side of the counter, leaning low against it. Sam and Ben both turn to face her.
"So… what are the downsides here?" she asks, as if rationalizing an online purchase. "I mean, can't he just stay? At least this way I have a part of him still. At least he's here."
Sam is already shaking his head. "But he won't be. Not for long. Eventually, everything you love about him will fade away. He'll become violent, uncontrollable. And if we wait, if he goes dark, there's no guarantee he'll make it into Heaven. We have to end this now. As difficult as it is, he needs to be put to rest."
Lisa closes her eyes."Okay," she whispers. "Okay, I understand." She turns her attention to Ben, renewed grief shining in her eyes. "Ben, sweetheart. If this is about me...if you feel like you can't leave me behind, I want you to know that it's okay. I'll be okay. You can go."
Lisa doesn't see him come in, but Sam catches sight of Dean's reappearance from the corner of his eye. He doesn't acknowledge the entrance, keeps his gaze focused on mother and son. Dean stays quiet in the entryway, watching the exchange with slumped shoulders.
"Mom…" Ben tries.
"Really honey, it's okay," Lisa continues, though her eyes are filling once more. "You know I miss you every day, that I always will. But this is what's best for you."
Ben shakes his head, frustrated. "I...I'm not sure how. There's no glowing light or sign or anything. I don't want to go dark. I don't want to leave either, but I don't want to become...not myself. I'm sorry, Mom. If I knew how, I could try to leave. I just...don't."
"Okay. That's okay sweetie. We'll figure it out." She turns back to Sam. "Right?"
Sam nods, is about to say something when Dean steps fully back into the room.
"Right," he says. All eyes in the room track to him. Lisa swallows thickly.
"I'd like you both to go now," she says, gesturing to the Winchesters. "I'd like to spend the evening with my son. I'll call off work, cancel my evening classes tomorrow. I'd like to just be here with him while I can. We can talk tomorrow."
Sam clears his throat awkwardly. "It uh...it doesn't exactly work that way."
"What do you mean?" Lisa asks, eyes narrowed. Sam's a little embarrassed at how intimidating he finds her when her voice dips like that.
"I mean that if a spirit isn't latched onto an object, that probably means it's latched onto a person. So I'm assuming that if Dean leaves, Ben will, too."
Lisa lets out a sharp huff. "You've got to be kidding me," she practically growls. Dean is silent, features schooled to neutrality, but Sam doesn't miss the tiny flinch Lisa's words evoke. She paces for another moment, eyes finally landing on Ben, even as she addresses the brothers.
"One of you can take the guest room. The other can take the couch," she says, finally.
Sam clears his throat again. "That's very generous of you, but I don't actually have to stay. It's just De…"
"Both of you," Lisa insists, sliding her gaze to Sam. Her voice softens, and her new tone tugs at something deep in Sam's chest that he never visits. "I'm sure you've spent enough of your lives in motel rooms. Take a break for tonight, huh?"
All Sam can do is nod.
"Okay," Lisa says with finality, back to no-nonsense. "Sheets in the guest room are fresh. I'll find some blankets for the couch. Decide amongst yourselves who gets what." A pause. "Ben, come on sweetie."
Ben follows his mom obediently up the stairs, only hesitating for a moment to say goodnight to both of them. Dean nods and smiles a little, but doesn't answer.
"Goodnight, Ben," Sam says for both of them. He waits for Lisa and Ben to disappear fully before he turns back to his brother. Dean is still watching the stairs, a haunted look on his face, and Sam is struck by how painfully familiar all of this must be for him, right down to the offered bed.
"You okay?" he asks, knowing he won't get a real answer.
Dean nods, keeping with his silent streak. He finally speaks a moment later, eyes finally breaking away from where he last saw Lisa and Ben.
"You take the guest room. Out to your left past the stairs, second door," is all he says before shuffling out of the kitchen.
Sam lets him go.
He's not sure how to navigate any of this territory with his brother, especially a brother he sometimes doesn't recognize anymore. There's already so much that's gone unspoken between them, and Sam hates to see the distance grow wider. But he also knows there's not much he can say that will make this easier on Dean. Bringing up Amelia certainly wouldn't do the trick, no matter how badly Sam wants to talk about her just for the sake of saying her name aloud. He misses her lips and her easy speech and the curls in her hair, and watching Dean watch Lisa with that same longing makes him ache for all of them, himself included. Makes him ache for the girl who isn't there.
Maybe he doesn't totally understand how Dean's feeling, but he does understand missing someone like that. He just doesn't think Dean would want to hear it.
Point is, there's no manual for a situation like this one, and even if there was, Sam wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open long enough to read through the first page. With no one left in the room to worry about or reassure, Sam finally registers his own exhaustion for the first time.
He doesn't pass his brother on the way to the guest bedroom, and he feels bad about being grateful for that. There's a coffee table on the side of the bed farthest from the door, and that's where Sam puts his gun. It's the only detail he notices about the room before his head hits the pillow.
He's already dreaming.
By the time Dean realizes Lisa is standing next to the couch he's supposed to be sleeping on, she's already caught a glimpse of him, and it's too late to turn back around and disappear. She smiles at him in acknowledgment, and Dean doesn't think he smiles back.
"You don't have to do that," he mutters instead, watching as she tucks an extra bed sheet into the creases of the couch cushions. She starts stacking pillows next, reaching for a small pile at her feet.
Lisa shrugs. "It's fine. Might as well be comfortable, long as you're here."
"I'm sorry," Dean says, taking another slow step towards her. "I'm sorry I have to be."
Lisa pauses with a pillow in her hand. She squeezes it against her chest and turns all the way around to face him fully. Dean stops mid-stride, trying to fold himself smaller.
"I think I'm grateful," Lisa says after a moment of thought, and Dean's eyebrows raise in confusion. "Or I think one day I will be grateful," she clarifies. "At the very least, I get to see Ben one more time. And maybe seeing you again is something I needed. Maybe I can make all the pieces you took away from me fit back together again."
She lets the pillow drop onto the couch, turning away from him again to reach next for the blanket draped over its arm. She smooths it out along the length of the couch.
"Lisa I'm…" Dean starts, but she cuts him off, that hardened edge he doesn't recognize coloring her voice again.
"Stop apologizing. I still need to be angry about it right now," she says, still smoothing the blanket out. Dean knows he won't use it. "I still get to be angry about it. Maybe for the rest of my life. So just stop."
Dean nods. "Okay."
"I do have a question though," Lisa continues. She's done making up his bed, so she faces him again. Dean inclines his head, waiting for her to continue.
"The 'someone' who did this to me, who took my memories...is it possible they took more than my memories of you?" she asks, and she sounds afraid, though she's trying to hide it. "How big of an invasion could it have been? Could I be missing other things?"
Dean shakes his head. "No," he insists, making sure he's looking her in the eye. "Lisa, no. Cas would never. He was one of the good ones. And very powerful. He'd never make a mistake like that, and he'd definitely never take away more than he needed to to keep you safe."
Lisa snorts, shaking her head with a small chuckle, and the sound throws Dean. "What?" he asks. He wants to smile, but he doesn't know what kind of laugh that was. There are so many things he doesn't recognize about her anymore, and he wonders if she's had the same thought.
She pushes a hand through her hair. "You, talking about keeping us safe," she says. "Obviously that didn't work out."
Dean falls silent, any trace of a smile leaving his lips in the space of half a second. He drops his eyes and waits for her to leave, to let her words haunt his dreams tonight along with all the other nightmares. It would be more kindness than he deserves. But she doesn't leave. She's still looking at him, and when Dean raises his head, he sees a confusing amount of pity.
"So you lost him, too, huh?" she asks. "This Cas person?"
Dean looks at her questioningly.
"You used the past tense," she explains.
"Oh," Dean nods. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
There is another long pause, and suddenly all Dean wants is for her to stay. He wants to tell her about Purgatory and Cas and about missing her and Ben. About Sam not looking for him. He wants to talk with her the way he never really did when he had the chance, when he was too buried in Sam's loss to ever share too much of himself with her.
Lisa sighs, then, and the moment is broken. Reality comes crashing back, and Dean watches all the things he can't say to anyone float back to where they sit inside his head, tucked too deep between the inner layers of brain tissue and skull.
"I'm gonna go check on Ben," Lisa says, moving out of the room. She gestures to the couch. "Make yourself comfortable."
"Thanks," Dean says, and it sounds like a whisper. He's not sure she hears it.
Lisa turns just before she reaches the top of the stairs. "Don't mention it."
Thank you for reading/leaving your thoughts!
