August 29th, 2008

She walks into the building and revels in its familiarity and comfort. She's come through this same doorway hundreds, thousands of times in the past but it's been years since the last time. On many occasions this place felt more like home than her actual house and with good reason. She always left her stress, her fears, all her negative emotions within its walls. It's the glue that had always held her together and now she hopes that it still can, especially today.

"Lizzy?" she hears the voice she knows better than her own call out to her from the open studio door. Peeking in, she sees Karen, her dance teacher and surrogate second mother. They haven't laid eyes on each other for years, not since Lizzy left town to hit the road with her best friend. Karen has known her since she was just seven years old. She became Lizzy's role model through the years and Karen always took a special interest in her.

"Hi Karen!" Lizzy smiles and walks quickly over to her, hugging her tight. It felt unbelievably good to see her. If she was ever going to experience what it's like to have a mother again, this was it.

"Oh my God," Karen happily sighs before pulling away. "How are you! Where have you been!"

"Everywhere," Lizzy tells her truthfully. "Went on an extensive road trip with a friend… for a long time."

"Lou?" Karen just assumes.

"Yeah," Lizzy says simply, not prepared to talk about her best friend on this day. "But I'm back in town now. Looking to take a class maybe."

"Good!" Karen brightly says. "I have a contemporary class starting in a few. You should jump in."

"Perfect," Lizzy says in return with a lower tone than she meant to use. This woman has been so good to her, so caring that letting her in on the fact that life hasn't been sunshine and rainbows isn't something she wants to do. She does her best to keep the conversation easy and manageable but Karen can see right past it.

"What's up?" Karen questions.

"Nothing," Lizzy smiles, trying to assure Karen as best she could. She fails miserably.

"That's a load of crap. You're not yourself. Why?"

Lizzy sighs loudly and looks down at the floor. "Life hasn't been… easy. At all." Lizzy feels the lump form in her throat and hopes with everything she has that Karen will back off.

"Well, you came to the right place then," Karen tells her, knowing she must be talking about the loss of her parents. "Just like old times, you go in there and leave all the shit inside," she points to Lizzy's heart, "on the dance floor. As long as you have a fraction of that love you used to have for dance in there somewhere, then use it right now, when you need it the most. Go do what you do best."

Lizzy smiles sadly and gets herself ready to dance for the first time in longer than she can remember. It's something she used to love, her heart belonged to it completely, and now that she's avoided and shut down this entire part of her for far too long she feels like it may be gone. The freedom and release it used to bring even in the worst of times is exactly what she is chasing now. If she's going to move on, going to keep her vow to Dean, then it starts right here, right now. This is her turning point.

God, she really hopes this works. Today has been horrendously difficult to get through and she needs any help she can get.

He knows it happened. He felt it clearly.

His newest victim is on the rack in front of him, screaming out for Helen once more. Dean assumed it was his wife and this was the one thing that still nagged him about what he does. Whenever someone asked for, shouted for, begged for another person, it always hit home and made the job at hand so much more difficult. It made him think of Sam and Lizzy, or whatever was left of them in his mind and heart, but he always barreled through the guilt and regret. Once he got past that, he happily continued his slicing and dicing with pure delectation. Today was different, however.

The remorse really started melting away over the past few years. It got easier and easier to bare the screams of torment coming from his projects. Maybe it was just that he got used to it all, desensitized, or maybe he was simply enjoying it more. Whatever the reason, he was different. He's been changed.

"Helen! Please, let me see my Helen again!" the man on his rack pleads as tears streak his face.

"Sorry, man," Dean says to him with zero emotion. "You got yourself here, you know you did. Now's not the time for second thoughts." Dean sharpens the razor he's used every day since he'd gotten off the rack. It was a treasured gift from his former harasser and he cherishes it with pride. Alistair gave him a chance at happiness again, something he hadn't felt since he last saw her. Once that chance was given to him, he's used it to its fullest extent, getting vengeance for everything he's lost and had to give up.

"I just need to know she's ok," he cries out. "Please!"

"Shut the fuck up," Dean tells him, using his old standby insult for a different person.

"Why are you doing this? Why?" The man looks over to Dean with scared and pitiful eyes.

Dean freezes for a moment and then turns his head slowly to meet the tear-filled gaze of his victim. It is a good question he's been asked and thinking about it briefly he finds the answer with surprising ease. He smiles while leaning down closer to the man, bringing his mouth inches from his ear.

"My whole life I had been fighting for what I thought was right and just, and as a reward I got my heart stomped on and my ass handed to me over and over again. I tried, tried my absolute hardest to be good and decent and everything I was supposed to be but no matter how hard I tried, I ended up… right here, with you." Dean backs away slightly to meet the man's eyes again, his rage burning hotter.

"I don't understand," the man cries. "How can a person turn into this?"

"Easily, actually," Dean admits while standing straight and looking down upon his prey. His transition was flawless for the most part, and shockingly smooth. "And now, it's my turn. I'm in charge and I get to deal out a little of that pain I've been put through my whole fucking life. I deserve to have some fun, to be on the other side. I've earned this! I'm the fucking monster for once!"

As Dean shouts the man's face reveals sudden total terror as Dean feels it happen. His eyes twitch and he knows they flash black quickly before returning to their normal green. It's never happened before, even after years of being an evil son of a bitch torture master. Instead of being fearful and unnerved by the event, he revels in the feeling.

"My friend, you came to me on a hell of a day," Dean smiles out. "No pun intended."

"You're awful," the broken man laments. "You're inhuman!"

"You know and I'm actually ok with that," Dean tells him before setting to work, loving the sounds his victim makes as he rips into him.

Sitting on the stone steps for a half hour now, Sam's growing impatient as the hot summer breeze blows through his hair. He doesn't know where she is and he probably should have called first instead of just drop in but the idea of being alone today was daunting. He needed Lizzy.

Hearing the roar of the Mustang on the other side of the house, relief washes over him with the sound. She's back. He sighs and waits, hearing the slapping of flip-flops coming closer as she makes her way down the paved walkway toward him. He smiles sadly when she appears around the corner.

"Hey," he says quietly, hoping to get her attention as she's looking down at her keys for the right one to open the apartment.

"Sam," she states simply when she looks up at him. Sam sees her reddened eyes and smudged makeup. She's having about as good a day as he is, he thinks. "Saw the Impala out back."

Walking quickly, Sam meets her halfway in the space between them. He hugs her tight and she responds with the same; arms locked around his waist and face buried in his t-shirt. She sighs heavily, letting his presence wash over her. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he responds without letting go.

"Today sucks my dick."

"Yeah," Sam says while loosening his hold and pulling an arm around Lizzy's shoulders, standing to her side. They walk to the front door without another word and Sam follows her into the apartment he's yet to visit. She drops her bag by the door and trudges up the staircase. Sam trails along and stands in the kitchen doorway, watching her reach into the refrigerator and pull out two beer bottles. She then walks to him, grabs his hand, and pulls him down the hallway, into the living room.

"Take a load off," she says while replacing her hand with a beer and pointing to the large, comfy looking couch. They both sit next to each other and twist open their bottles. Sam holds his up to Lizzy.

"To Lou," he cheers sadly. "A hell of a hunter… and friend."

"To my sister," Lizzy responds and clinks the two bottles together before draining half the liquid in it. She swallows the last gulp. "Six fucking months."

"Six long ass months," Sam adds while reaching over and grabbing her hand again, needing the contact and silent support.

"You're telling me," Lizzy agrees. "These have been the worst six months of my God damn life. And that is saying a lot."

Sam shakes his head and goes in for another long pull from his beer.

"Surprised you left the house today, honestly," Sam comments. "I would have called if I thought you'd be out."

"Had to get out. Sometimes doing nothing is so much worse," she answers back. "Actually, I took a class today."

"Dance? You did?" He's surprised and relieved by what she shares.

"Yeah," she explains.

"It's good you have that. An outlet, I mean," Sam explains. He wishes to God he had an outlet too. Maybe he would have handled his life differently these past few months if he did.

"I agree, but I don't think it's enough anymore," she says while finishing her beer. "Didn't feel the same. Maybe I'm just too fucked up now. I think I need something a little stronger than beer. You?"

"Yes," Sam says emphatically as he watches Lizzy leave the room. He scans his surroundings. It's pretty sparse, Lizzy not having gone out of her way to fill the apartment with anything more than the essentials. Basic furniture and electronics. The only thing decorating the barren dwelling is the familiar guitar resting in its stand in the corner of the living room. The sight alone makes Sam want to cry with the memories it jostles free.

Lizzy comes back in, placing two glasses and a bottle of Jameson on the coffee table.

"That's Lou's, isn't it?" he asks while nodding at the instrument. Lizzy looks over to the worn acoustic guitar while pouring.

"Yes," Lizzy responds, handing one glass over and picking up the other for herself while sitting down again. "Her favorite thing in the whole world… besides us of course." She tries to smile but the expression never reaches her eyes. "Makes me feel like she's here somewhere, still with me."

"Can't say I'm not jealous that you have that," Sam states, knowing that having the Impala and the necklace he gave Dean when they were kids helps keep him linked to the brother he misses so much. "Don't really have much of Lou's… besides the picture you gave me a while back. That's still in the glove compartment, by the way."

"Good. Love that picture," Lizzy tells him while taking sip of whiskey and thinking. "You know what?" Lizzy asks and stands up again, walking out of the room and returning a few moments later. "Here. You gave me Dean's jacket, now I'm giving you this."

Sam reaches out and grabs ahold of the plain silver ring Lizzy offers him. He rolls it between his fingers, inspecting the nicked and dented metal and noticing the words etched inside. He reads it out loud. "Do what you believe is right."

"Lou's mom gave her that when she graduated high school," Lizzy begins explaining. "It's something Jane said to her and her brother… and me, really… every damn day. Jane was kind of a hippie and always had these kinda sayings she'd repeat to us all the time, trying to keep us grounded and whatnot. Louie never took it off for a second once it was on. After her parents died, she guarded that thing with her life."

"Wow," Sam whispers, blown away with the gesture. "Are you sure about this?"

"Definitely," Lizzy says with all honesty. "I think Lou would love for you to have it. And I think it's a message she's really want to share with you… especially right now in life."

Sam wrinkles his brow, knowing what Lizzy is trying to do for him. "Thank you… so much, Lizzy," Sam says as the threat of crying overcomes him. Instead of giving in, he takes a gulp of whiskey to burn it away.

"You're very welcome," she says. "Man, am I happy you're here."

Sam wraps his arm around her shoulders once again and they sit tight for a while, exchanging Lou memories and reminiscing about better years, leaning onto one another the entire time.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bobby," Lizzy says on the other end. "Thought I'd call and check on you."

Bobby huffs a quiet laugh at this. "Shouldn't I be the one checkin' on you today?"

"Probably, but when has that ever stopped me before?"

"Touché," Bobby responds. "How're you doin' today?"

"Shitastic. I went back to dance though, like I told you I was going to. Seemed like the right day for it." Her voice is hollow and low.

"Good," Bobby tells her honestly while dropping into his favorite living room chair to get comfortable. They talked so often and every time Bobby liked to settle in and enjoy the fact that she was so caring toward him. "I'm glad you went back. Did it help?"

"Oh yeah," she says with sarcasm. "I cried while halfway through a combination in front of about twelve other strangers. It was awesome."

"Well, art'll do that to ya', make ya' emotional I guess. Or at least that's what I'm told." Bobby never had a penchant for the artistic world, but the way Lizzy used to talk about dance and how she missed it so much once she dedicated herself to hunting he knew it was special to her, important.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'm much of an artist anymore. I'm an old ass, hardened hunter now. Doesn't have the same appeal," sheadmits aloud with a sigh. "Been a shitty six months."

"I know, hon. It sucks dick but what can you do."

"Exactly what I said," Lizzy says before pausing. "So, um, Sam's here."

"He is!" Bobby asks with excitement and shock. It's been far too long and he's missed that kid. He's also glad that Sam went to her on such a difficult day. It makes him happy they have each other right now.

"Yeah, sitting right next to me and looking at me like he hates me. Whoops, guess I wasn't supposed to tell you about him being here... heads up, I'm putting you on speaker."

Before Bobby can protest he hears the speaker click over.

"Can you hear me?" Lizzy questions.

"Yeah, I hear ya'."

"Good, now say hi to each other or something."

"Hey Bobby," Sam says in his gentile way, like he always did. It melted his heart a little to hear him sound like the old Sam he's missed so much.

"Sam," Bobby says simply and the two grow quiet.

"Ok. Not awkward at all," Lizzy breaks in sarcastically. "You guys blow so here's the deal. I'm tired of being your go between. Time to cut the shit and be men. Sam, you've been an ass and you need to stop avoiding Bobby. And Bobby, you were really mean the last time you two talked. You need to be more understanding seeing as the dude lost his fucking brother to hellfire and everyone deals with shit differently. I'm leaving the two of you to have at it. Now talk and fix this."

Bobby hears the speaker click over once more and it's just him and Sam.

"You there?" he hears Sam ask.

"Yeah, I'm here. What a pain in the ass she is." Lizzy always knew how to get on Bobby's nerves by constantly doing the right thing, the kind of things families do for each other. It was frustrating as hell… and highly respectable.

"Definitely. But she cares. A lot. This whole thing has been really hard on her. Us adding to it doesn't help."

"I know, but Sam, you've been killin' me. You have to know that." Bobby needs to tell him how awful Sam's made life on him. He wants him to understand so it doesn't continue. "The disappearing and the secret life…"

"I know. Bobby, I do know," Sam explains. "It's just… I can't tell you everything, not yet. I just need you to trust me."

"I do trust you," Bobby tells him. He does, always has. "But I still worry. I can't help that at all, any good fath…" Bobby stops himself. It's not something they've talked about, but he's always considered himself as their dad once John had passed, and maybe even before then. He's their father in almost every way but blood. That has to count for something. It does in Bobby's eyes at least.

"Look," Sam starts, trying to avoid the hefty conversation Bobby almost let slip. "I never set out to hurt you or worry you. You know I wouldn't do that."

"I like to think so, but you've made it awful hard to believe that," Bobby admits.

"I'm sorry, Bobby." He sounds completely sincere.

"Thank you." It's what Bobby's been wanting to hear for so long. "Please keep in touch, kid. Please don't disappear like that again, huh?"

"I'll do what I can."

Bobby sighs. Nothing is going to change, he can feel it. God damn.

"Thanks," Bobby grumbles. This didn't go so well. It's going to stay the same.

Once again, Bobby thinks to himself at least Sam's alive and well. It's still one of the few things he clings to.