Well, here we go again guys! As always I don't own this and all mistakes are mine. I hope this chapter is just as satisfying at the first three. :)
The Vacant Year
Chapter 4
The world around Lisa melts away as Dean's words seep into her brain. Hell? That has to be a metaphor right? He had to mean 'abducted by some psycho and tortured like it was Hell', right? Even she didn't buy the lies she is telling herself. She stands there, locked in place as Dean sits up with his back to her. There's a fine tremor running through him, his shoulders sporadically hitch up as he silently cries. Her first instinct is to sit with him and utter reassurances as he sobs into her chest, but she knows that act will be unwanted. Also, what do you say to someone who has literally been to Hell and back?
Lisa ends up sitting down next to him, mimicking his position. Legs drawn up with her arms draped loosely across her knees. She doesn't look at him, doesn't attempt to reach out to him. She sits there staring straight ahead and will be there for him if he decides to reach out.
She doesn't know how long they remain like that. But, eventually Dean rubs the back of his hand across his eyes and take a deep breathe before straightening up. He briefly looks over at her, when their eyes meet he quickly averts them to the ground.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Hey," Lisa says, bending her head down to try and meet his gaze. "Dean looks t me."
Dean slowly drags his eyes up. Lisa stifles a gasp at the raw emotion glistening in them. Layers of agony, terror, and regret. She blinks back the tears that threaten to fall and steels herself. Right now, Dean is the one who needs someone to fall back on.
"In no way is this your fault, Dean. Understand?" she says firmly, but gently.
Despite Dean's tiny nod of affirmation, Lisa knows he's not buying what she's selling.
"I'm gonna go to bed," Dean mumbles as he pushes himself up.
He brushes bits of grass and leaves off his jeans before stumbling back inside. Lisa remains seated in the grass, gazing up at the stars. The night is clear and crisp, the moonlight dusting the world in a pale light. So peaceful compared to the turmoil wrecking havoc on Dean's mind. A hurricane of memories she knows nothing about.
Lisa sits under the stars and allows herself to cry for Dean. For the little boy who lost his mother. For the child who grew up too fast. For the teenager who raised his brother. And for the man who saved the world and lost everything doing so.
When her eyes dry, Lisa heads back inside. She locks and salts the door then does a quick sweep around the house to ensure all the windows are latched. She flips the lights off as she walks up the stairs. She passes by the spare bedroom on the way to her room. Lisa notes that the door is closed. She pauses in front of the door and raises her fist. She goes to rap on the wood, but pulls away at the last second. As much as she aches to be in there with him, but she knows Dean doesn't want her around.
He'd already let a fragment of his armor clatter to the ground. Tonight, Lisa got her first view of Dean Winchester without his mask firmly bolted in place. She knows that they have a lot of legwork ahead of them if they're going to heal the damage.
Lisa slept little that night. Haunted by her own imagination. She can't even begin to fathom what Hell is like. All she pictures when she closes her eyes are the depictions from Hollywood movies, a giant bonfire roasting damned souls. Eventually, she slips into a restless sleep a couple hours before her alarm goes off at nine. She stays in the shower longer than usual, hoping the warm water will wash away the chill her thoughts have left behind.
She steps out in a veil of steam and quickly mops the water off her skin. After towel drying her hair, Lisa dresses in her lounge around the house clothes - a pair of black yoga pants and one of her old college t-shirts. Once dressed, she pads down the hallway to Ben's room. She knocks twice before entering.
"Ben, honey, time to get up," Lisa says sweetly. Her son groans and tugs the covers over his head. "Come on, we gotta get that science project done today."'
She crosses the room and jerks the covers back to reveal Ben's sleep-matted hair. He blinks sleepily at her and she smiles.
"Up, up." She playfully slaps his shoulder. "I'm making pancakes."
That gets him up. Within thirty-seconds of her saying that, Ben leaps off the bed and bolts out of the room. When she hears the shower whoosh on, she heads to the kitchen.
Lisa halts outside the guest bedroom. She rests her hand on the cool wood before lightly raking her knuckles against the door. No answer. She waits a few seconds before slowly turning the knob and pushing the door open. She cracks it just enough to poke her head through.
Dean lays on his side fully clothed, boots and everything. The gun he grips glints in the sunlight that's streaming through the window. His muscles quiver under his shirt. She watches him visibly attempt to slow his shaky breathing in a futile effort to feign sleep. Lisa smiles sadly and shuts the door.
She powers up the coffee maker before anything else. While the coffee is brewing, she begins the process of making pancakes. First, she goes in search of the griddle, which got buried who knows where in the back of the cabinet. Once she has uncovered that she plugs it in and turns it on, allowing it time to heat up. Lisa then starts to make the batter. She cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl and whisks them together with some milk before adding the dry ingredients.
The coffee maker beeps and she pours herself a cup before scooping the batter onto the griddle. The goopy batter pops and sizzles when it hits the hot surface. Lisa leans against the counter and sips her coffee as she watches the pale mixture bubble. She's just flipping them when Ben comes bounding down the steps. He's dressed in one of his video game shirts and jeans. He hops up on the island stool and folds his arms over the counter.
"Where's Dean?" Ben inquires, he searches the room as if Dean will just pop up out of nowhere.
Lisa slides the spatula under the pancakes and precisely flips each one over with a plop. "He's not feeling well."
"Oh." Ben looks disappointed, but he quickly perks back up again. "We should make him some of Grandma's chicken-noodle soup." He beams up at her. "That's sure to make him feel better."
"I'm sure it would Honey." Lisa stacks the pancakes up on two plates and brings them over to the island. She sets them down and then goes back for her coffee and maple syrup. "How about we make him some for dinner tomorrow?"
"Okay," Ben says as he graciously dumps syrup on his breakfast.
"Hey! Easy on the sugar rush Dude," Lisa exclaims jokingly as she bumps into her son's shoulder.
As they ate Lisa half-listens to Ben as he chatters on about his video games. Even on a good day she struggles to keep up with him when this subject comes up. But today, she can barely follow his train of thought. Her mind keeps wandering to Dean, who's probably still huddled on the bed trying to disappear of the face of the Earth.
Dean watches the sunlight creep across the carpet and on to the wall. If his brain wasn't stuffed with sulfuric soaked cotton balls he might have been able to tell the time using the position of the sun's rays. But, his last concern is the time. Seconds ticking by aren't going to expel the tormented screeches of the mangled souls he tortured.
He's unsure how many seconds have slipped by since Lisa opened the door. Probably hours. He was appreciative that she left him alone earlier. He'd already placed too much of an unnecessary weight on her shoulders. Hell is his burden not hers. Which is why he needs to get his act together and burry everything that has happened.
Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door. His body tense up as he prepares to feign sleep…
"Hey Dean?" Lisa softly calls. "I'm going to drop Ben off at his friend's house and then head to the store, you need anything?"
"No," Dean answers automatically.
"Okay…I'll be back in about an hour, you call if you need anything. I mean anything."
He hears her walk away and he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Dean groans and pushes himself up on shaking arms. He sits on the edge of the bed and places his head in his hands. He drags his trembling fingers through his grimy, greasy hair and presses his thumbs into his eyes, trying to drive the burning sensation away. His muscles twitch with exhaustion, but he's wound too tightly to even consider sleeping.
He drops down to the floor, reaches under the bed, and fumbles around until his fingers brush over smooth glass. He lets out a low moan as he pulls the half-empty bottle of whiskey out. He stashed the bottler under the bed a couple of weeks ago, after a particularly grueling nightmare left him hoarse. His fingers slip off the cap twice before he's able to remove it.
Dean takes a large swig and throws his head back against the bed frame as the alcohol rushes through his veins. He knows there's not enough to get him drunk, he doesn't even know if he can get drunk anymore. He's hoping there's just enough left to give him a slight buzz, just enough to dull the soul deep throb pulsing through him.
He stares at the wall in front of him as he gradually drinks the amber liquid. Slowly but surely, the vivid memories of his time down under become fuzzy, unrecognizable blobs as the alcohol works its magic. He's able to make the bottle last as long as the sun. As the last streak of golden light sinks bellow the horizon the final drop of whiskey vanishes.
Luckily for Lisa, after breakfast her day becomes chaotic. Once the dishes were done, her and Ben got cracking on his science project. Two hours later he had a completed project done for class on Tuesday. She dropped Ben off at his friend's house before heading to the grocery store. She picks up all the ingredients they need to make Dean soup, she also grabs some peanut M&M's for him. She knows this isn't a 'chocolate fix all' situation, but she's at least hoping for a smile.
When she returns home she decides against checking on Dean knowing that she'll get the same response. Him shutting her out is his screwed up way of coping. He doesn't deserve to be alone, and even if she'll never understand what he went through she's going to give him so much needed TLC. Which she plans on dishing out after her son retreats to his room for the night.
Lisa spends the rest of the afternoon browsing through Dean's search history on her computer. She figures the more she knows the easier it will be to help him. He's never been great at sharing and caring, so she's going to attempt to gather an understanding of what's going on in that head of his. She's sickened by what she finds. Every search revolves around breaking into Lucifer's cage…at first this puzzles her. Why would Dean want to break back into Hell? Does he think he deserves to be there? As she continues reading the pieces fall into place.
Sam.
Dean was in Hell. Sam is in Hell. Dean is haunted by what happened in Hell, yet is trying to break back in to get Sam. The bond between these two will never cease to amaze her.
She shuts down the computer and forces the revolting thoughts from her head. This is just a reminder at how strong Dean is. She would never be able to live with the memories and consider trying to go back again. She drives the ideas from her brain by making dinner. Focusing completely on the task at hand and not on envisioning what Hell is like.
Lisa makes enough spaghetti for her and Ben, knowing Dean wouldn't come down even if she went up and asked. She plans on making him grilled cheese later. Ben marches through the door just as she's putting the final touches on the meal.
"Hey," she says. "I was just about to eat without you."
He smiles. "No you weren't," he states as he sits at the table. "Dean still not feeling well."
"No, I'm afraid not," she answers as she sets the plates on the table. "When you get home from school tomorrow we'll make him soup okay?"
"Yeah." Ben twists the noodles around his fork. "That'll make him feel better."
Ben talks about his afternoon as they eat. Afterwards, he does the dishes before saying goodnight and retreating to his room for the rest of the evening. Lisa hurriedly makes the grilled cheese she hops to persuade him into eating at least half. She considers bringing a glass of whiskey as a peace offering but nixes the idea and grabs a handful of M&M's instead. Dean probably had some kind of liquor hidden up there anyway.
She hesitantly knocks on the door before entering. The knock was more out of curtsey than asking for permission. He's sitting on the floor and sure enough there's an empty bottle of something next to his thigh.
"Hey," Lisa says as she sits down next to him. "Made you a sandwich."
He tosses her a sideways glance. "Not hungry."
"Come on Dean, you haven't eaten all day. You're gonna make yourself sick."
Suddenly, he finds the carpet extremely captivating and starts nervously picking at a loose thread on his pants. So, Lisa switches tactics.
"How about I eat half, you eat half?" She holds part of the sandwich out to him. Eventually, he reaches out and takes it with shaking hands.
Dean gnaws on it, taking microscopic bites, but he manages to eat all of it. "Thanks," he says quietly.
They sit in silence after that, Dean fiddling with the string on his pants and Lisa contemplating on how to help him. Every so often she would pass an M&M over to him and he'd take it, she avoided handing him the red ones though afraid those would make him think of fire and blood. She glances over at him when she thought he wasn't looking.
The pallor of his skin has gotten worse, it's ashen now, his eyes are sunken in and hallow. His once vibrant green orbs are now dull and grief filled. He's literally trembling from stress and exhaustion.
"Come on," Lisa says as she gets up and holds her hand down to him.
He blinks confusedly up at her. "Where."
"Bed. And no I'm not leaving you here," Lisa states when she sees a pointless attempt an argument begin to form on his lips. "I'll sleep better if you're there." He takes her hand and allows himself to be led down the hall.
Lisa closes the door and quickly gets changed. Even though it's only nine-thirty, she knows Dean needs this. His body is screaming for some TLC. When she comes out of the bathroom, he's sitting on the end of the bed looking unsure and on edge.
"Why don't you change into something more comfortable," Lisa suggests as she digs through his designated draw. She pulls out sweat pants and a black t-shirt and places them into his hands. He stares at them and blinks slowly, he doesn't move until she gently nudges him towards the bathroom.
Dean emerges a few minutes later and all but collapse onto the bed. Lisa pulls the covers up around them, making sure they aren't too tightly tucked in so he can move, and turns off the light. Dean stiffly sits beside her with his arms crossed over his chest, fighting to stay awake. Lisa scoots as close as she dares to him and tries to stay away with him. But, her sleep-deprived body has other ideas and soon she has slipped into dreamland.
Well…how did I do? Leave a review and let me know, I'd love to hear from you. Next chapter will be posted soon barring any collegey stuff I have to do. Hope you guys are having a fantastic day :)