Dean Winchester's never been one to hit women.

Well, except if they're possessed by demons or are evil Hell bitches, but even then he pulls his punches when he can get away with it. Sam's never had the same issue, but he doesn't remember their Mom and why Dean uses that for his excuse, they'll never get into. Dean is not one for psychology.

The morning he thinks about smacking Lisa is the second he starts to slowly back away from Normal and All That It Stands For. It wasn't her fault, but he should have seen it coming. Dean was never cut out for this life and that is something he definitely knows he can blame his dad for. The question is: would he have become a hunter if Mom hadn't died? If he couldn't remember her screams and the fire that took her life that will be forever seared on the backs of his eyelids? If those were the only reasons he had for not being able to sleep well at night? What do forty years of torture and torturing in Hell look like to the common man and how does he make them goaway?

Dean's body is full of scars, most of which have healed clean or clean enough, but Lisa has asked about them all. He recounts numerous knife-fights, werewolf scratches (no, not all carry the disease), rugaru wrestling matches that were almost too vicious (but viciousness runs in my veins, baby…) and so on until she runs out of questions and his skin feels clean again.

Today, she places her small hand (well, smaller than his) squarely on the one place on his chest he wishes she hadn't and asks about invisible pain. "Was there something right here? It always feels warm, Dean. Like your blood is running too hot."

He can't tell her and he simultaneously wants to hold her hard against him and push her away, maybe into the wall. Overreaction, thy name is Dean Winchester.

He feels the tears dammed up and more emotion than he would like to allow enters into his voice. "Nothing. Not a thing."

The look in her eyes tells Dean she doesn't believe him, but Lisa knows better than to prod any deeper. "Well, maybe you'll tell me one day."

She (Lisa, dear one, the epitome of allthatisgeniuneandboring, God help her-ifYouexist) slips out of the bed they've shared for over a year and leaves him alone with his waking thoughts. "Yeah, one day." No, not today and I'm pretty sure I never will.

Dean knows One Day does not exist.

But Today is when he begins to leave for good.