Six Days Later

"It's been almost a fucking week, Sam!" Lou all out yells at Sam as she yanks clothing on in a huff first thing in the morning.

"I know," Sam groans, rubbing his eyes as he sits up in bed. He's exhausted. They've been running on empty trying to get Dean to answer his phone, attempting to figure out where he could have gone, getting the entire network of hunters they know to keep their eyes peeled, calling all local businesses around their known hideouts… and nothing. When Dean wants to be gone he knows how to be gone.

"I know he doesn't want to be found and everything but I can't just fucking sit here and know he's out there with Sammy alone!" Lou tells her husband, looking at him helplessly.

"Lou, honestly… what do you think is gonna happen to Sammy?" Sam challenges. "Dean's a great dad. He can take care of his own son. Have some faith in him."

"I do," her tone lowers. Lou sighs. "I just remember what he was like when Lizzy first disappeared. He was a fucking wreck."

"I know…" Sam groans, remembering it all too clearly.

"We had to be Sammy's parents for that whole first few months," Lou angrily reminds, the more she recalls the angrier she gets.

"Yeah, I know…."

"Well, what if it's happening all over again, huh!?" Lou asks with fear and panic. "What if Dean's out there somewhere drinking and being a total disaster and no one is there to pick up the slack this time!?"

"You really think that's happening?" Sam asks, skeptical as all hell at her accusation. He remains unmoving and very calm as he sits there staring at her.

"I don't know… maybe," Lou says, taking a second to calm herself. Waking up without Sammy in the house yet again put her immediately in a terrible place that morning. She knows she's doing that thing where she gets crazy and irrational because of her pending fear. She does this. And every time Sam takes it in stride and remains the even tempered one that brings her back to reality.

Lou huffs a sigh and plops down onto the foot of their bed. She looks at him with an apologetic face for the rude wake up.

"I know," Sam smiles lightly and nods, fully understanding her upset.

"I'm worried," Lou admits.

"Me too. But Dean's a really good dad, you know this."

"Unless things go wrong," Lou stipulates.

"That was a year ago," Sam reminds her. "After that big blow out we had he realized he fucked up. He's been the picture of perfect since then. And you know deep down that he's never going back to that, not when Sammy means the world to him."

Lou takes all the information in and nods, head hung a little. "I just wish he'd have stayed and talked to us. Let us explain."

"When have you ever known Dean to be that rational?" Sam half laughs as he crawls over the comforter a bit until he's sitting right near her. He kisses her cheek once and settles there, Lou leaning her side into his. "This sucks. And you're right, we need to find them and clear all this up."

"I just wish he'd answer his fucking phone," Lou wishes aloud. "Just so we know they're alright."

"That would be nice, but again, it's Dean we're talking about. And we pissed him off," Sam says with a little sadness in his tone. "I knew we should've told him."

"Yeah, you were right," Lou concedes, knowing about five months back, when Dean hit his peak of being okay with everything, that Sam really tried to get her to agree with his want to inform Dean of everything. Sam even tried again when Dean confessed he thought Lizzy was still alive. He always knew the secret would bite them in the ass.

Sam's eyes pop wide. "Say that again."

Lou glowers at him. "Fuck off."

"Come on! You've never said that before! I want to enjoy it!"

"You're an asshole." Lou tries to get out of bed with anger but her arm gets pulled back and she falls back onto Sam. He pulls his arms around her and locks her there, her back to his front.

"I know this sucks," Sam says, letting Lou sit there a moment and get some form of comfort after the past week they've had. "But when he's ready, Dean will call us."

"Or we find him so I can punch him in his face." She cranes her neck around to grin at him patronizingly.

Sam half smiles at that. "Or that."

"Sorry," Lou says to him with sincerity once she really looks at him. She knows she went off the deep end a touch with her anger directed at Dean right now and she knows once more Sam's the reason she's calmed down.

"Eh, I'm used to it by now," Sam smirks a little, still holding her in place. He knows what she's apologizing for.

"God, I'm such a pain," she groans, a hand pressed to her face in shame. "How the hell do you still deal with this every day?"

Sam laughs at her. "You're not that bad… at least not anymore."

"Oh no?" she drops her hand and looks at him with disbelief.

Sam dips her lower in his arms until she's almost lying down before kissing her plump lips once. "No way. The year we've had was good for you. You're less… harsh."

"I can see how that'd be good," Lou nods, happy to hear he thinks she's improving herself.

"You're not who you used to be," he reminds her, pulling her tighter and quickly kissing her again. "You're New Lou."

"New Lou? Yuck. That rhymes." She scrunches her nose up like Sammy does when he hates the taste of a new food.

"Whatever, point is you're not as bad as you think you are these days," Sam says, sitting her up until she's settled in his lap at the edge of the bed. He rests his chin on her shoulder without letting her go. "I really like you a lot these days."

Lou huffs a laugh at that, her arms covering over his around her smaller form. She leans her temple against his. "I love you."

"And I love how easily you can now get those words out," he tells her yet again and kisses her cheek.

"I'm gonna call again," Lou informs him, turning her head to meet his eyes. "I have to try at least once a day."

"That's fair enough," Sam nods, completely agreeing. "But you know he won't answer."

"I know," Lou says sadly. "But I do have Mari up in Montana finishing up a hunt today. She told me she'd do a drive by at Rufus' old place when she can, see if maybe he's there."

Sam nods. "Okay. That's a good guess."

"Aside from that… guess we just do this bullshit waiting thing he's forcing us to do," Lou laments and gets up out of bed for good. She grabs her cell phone from the nightstand and heads for the door.

"Leave a nice message this time, huh?" Sam calls out after her as he also gets up, reaching for a t-shirt and jeans to get his day going. The plumbing at the Roadhouse isn't looking too good so he promised he'd head in and look at it for her, see if he can figure it out.

"No, no, no," Dean scolds very lightly when he sees his son sitting at the old, worn kitchen table in the Rufus' Whitefish cabin picking at his sandwich. "You told me you didn't want me to cut off the crust."

"Don't want it, daddy," Sammy tells his father as he peels another strip of crust from his grilled cheese.

"But before, when I asked, you did want it?" he questions, confused as all hell as he sits across from Sammy with his own sandwich and a beer.

"Yeah," Sammy answers, eating a clump of melty cheese and crumbs off his thumb before pulling more crust off his sandwich.

"Dude, I would have cut it off for you," Dean reminds, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. "I do it all the time."

"I know," Sammy answers, carefree.

"So why didn't you say yes when I asked if you wanted the crust cut off?"

"'Cause I do it."

"You don't have to do everything yourself, kiddo. Daddy's exist to help." Dean pulls out his phone and checks the caller I.D. Lou. He ignores the call and replaces his phone in his pocket.

"I do it."

"Oh, you do everything now?"

"Yeah."

Dean's speechless for the moment. His son does that to him quite often, arguing in pointless circles as he remains just as stubborn as both his parent combined. "I don't get you, kid." He shakes his head at one of the many weird little things his son does. He's definitely turned out to have quite the personality.

"S'okay, daddy," Sammy grins, crumbs on his lips and cheese in his little pearl whites. The smile is overdone and all teeth. It reminds Dean of Lizzy, especially when she was a kid.

"It's okay that I don't get you?" Dean huffs a laugh.

"Yeah," he answers, his tone still easy.

"Why's that again?" he questions.

"'Cause I no get you," Sammy tells him.

"What? What don't you get about me?" Dean has to pry, staring seriously at his boy. It's these kinds of conversations that he ends up loving or getting something profound out of so he has to keep going with it.

"Don't know," Sammy answers, his two year old mind having a hard time making sense.

"No, come on. What don't you understand about daddy?" Dean asks him, sitting back in his chair as he uses a paper napkin to wipe his face.

"You sing bad," Sammy tells him before taking a big bite of crust-free sandwich.

"I sing bad?" Dean asks with surprise. Sammy nods yes. Dean corrects him. "You sing bad."

"No don't." Sammy's face wrinkles up in a scowl.

"Uh, yeah. You definitely do," Dean fights back right away, never giving in to even his son.

"No," Sammy says, sounding offended, his face angry.

"Hey, remember that I'm the one that had to listen to you sing AC/DC on the way to the store yesterday."

"So?"

"So!?" Dean laughs as he ribs his boy. "I think my ears are still busted!"

"Auntie Louie say my voice good," Sammy rebuts. "And she like me singing with her guitar."

Dean's face drops. He's still mad at Lou, and Sam for that matter, but he feels bad that they left so abruptly for his son's sake. Dean's always known his anger trumps everything when he's been pissed off and he really let that take hold days ago. His son doesn't understand anything that's happening. He's not at his home, not near his aunt and uncle that he loves so much… Dean feels bad.

"I know, buddy," Dean nods at him.

"We go home?" Sammy asks, grabbing his sippy cut and guzzling down some milk.

"Not yet," Dean reminds him. "We have to wait."

"For mommy?" Sammy questions after he's had his long sip.

"Yeah. Mommy's on her way and we have to be here when she arrives." Dean gets nervous again. He doesn't know why. He's out of his mind excited to get his wife back but after so long and not knowing what condition she'll be in he feels like it might be strange. Awkward even.

"I no know mommy," Sammy reminds him, repeating something he's said several times since he was told his mother was coming home.

"I know, kiddo," Dean responds painfully. "But you were just a baby when mommy went away. You can't remember her and that's ok. But you'll get to know her again. You'll love her, Sammy. I promise."

"Okay," Sammy answers easily, of course not understanding everything. "Why she go away?"

Dean's heart tears in half at that question. He hates that question as he could never make Sammy understand the true answer to it. "Remember I told you she had to go do some very important work?"

"Yeah."

"Well, her work is done," Dean makes it as vague as possible. "And she gets to come back home to us now."

"Daddy?" Sammy's wide, green eyes look right at the man he's a spitting image of.

"Yeah, dude?"

"I play cars now?" he asks, his sandwich a mess of torn up bits that are roughly half eaten.

Good enough, Dean thinks. "Sure," he tells him and gets up. He grabs another napkin and wipes Sammy's hands off before picking him up off his seat. He plops him onto his feet and Sammy's off, rushing to the spot he's made in the living room area of the cabin that has all his toys. His cars are already out, about three dozen die cast, small Hot Wheels scattered all about with trees, roads, and street signs all set up in an intricate map to play on.

Dean watches for a quick second, the kid just already enthralled by cars. He knows it has a lot to do with the fact that he himself is a touch car obsessed (just a touch) but he's got a knack for it. Sammy knows a Mustang when he sees one and he loves getting greasy with daddy under Baby's hood. The kid is already more than he could have ever hoped for.

And he can't fucking wait for Lizzy to see him again.

"Alright, sleep tight," Dean says to Sammy once he's tucked into bed in the room that Lou and Sam normally take on the cabin's first floor. He's been letting Sammy stay in there so he has his own room just like home. He's doing whatever he can to not ruin the usual routine through this trip of theirs.

"No bed bugs bite!" Sammy shouts back incorrectly but makes Dean grin either way.

"Get some sleep, dude," Dean says and shuts the door halfway around one in the afternoon. He walks back out into the cabin to enjoy a little peace. His son is a whirlwind, just like Lizzy said he'd be when she was pregnant, and he wishes he could get some sleep himself during naptime.

But one full day of driving and five days of waiting has him on edge. Shouldn't L be here by now? Is she even out yet? Where was she popped out when she came back? For all he knows it could have been China. Without a passport or luggage or money he can't imagine she'd get back here in anything short of a handful of months and if that's the case he's going to go crazy and he knows it.

He just has to hope that Purgatory is tossing her ass out in the lower forty-eight or else this is going to be a terribly long wait.

So in the meantime, he keeps himself busy. He's cleaned the cabin, organized the weapons and supplies in the basement, made some repairs to the plumbing, and now all he has left is to figure out what the hell is making a rattling sound in Baby's engine.

Assuming that if he gets a head start in setting up and investigating, he'll still be working once Sammy gets up in an hour or less. If his boy found out that the hood was open without him he'd be honestly upset.

With a true lack of proper tools, Dean sets up as best he can. Impala hood open, rusty wrench set off to his side, and a small cooler with a cheap six-pack on ice and he's ready to go. At least Baby will benefit from his anxiety.

By the time he has the engine well checked, now assuming it's the exhaust that's really causing the unnerving-to-him noise, Dean can hear a car coming up the dirt path that leads to the cabin.

His heart jumps in his chest.

Immediately dropping what he's doing, Dean picks up a rag and wipes off his hands as he straightens up and looks down the way. A craptastic car, something compact from the mid-nineties that's clearly seen better days, rounds the tree lined corner and comes into view.

It's her. He can see through the windshield that Lizzy's driving. He knows her face the second he sees it. He shuts Baby's hood quickly and he begins running before he even knows he's moving at all.

The car comes to an abrupt stop. Lizzy brakes with a sudden jerk as she sees Dean jogging over to her. She knew that dream was real, just knew it. She had worried that when she arrived he wouldn't be waiting for her since there was no proof other than her gut feeling that the dream she had in Purgatory was real.

But, oh… it was real. And Dean's here, just as she told him to be. He listened and knew she'd return.

Dean's hand on the door handle, yanking it open with haste, Lizzy barely gets her seatbelt off before he's pulling her to her feet and crushing her in the hardest hug he's ever given anyone in his life.

Immediately she shoves him away from her and it catches Dean completely by surprise.

"L, what… ah!?" Dean gets cut off by a water bottle splashing in his face. He gets a mouthful of water and spits it off to the side as he catches a glimpse at the container, a rosary visible through the clear plastic. He then gets hit in the chest by a splash of something lemony and slightly noxious. He knows what she's doing now. Hard eyes on him, Lizzy tosses over a folded pocket knife that he already knows is silver.

He's dying to touch her, to feel her, to do this right but he understands. Dean rolls up a sleeve and flicks the knife open with ease. He drags it lightly over his forearm, enough to bleed and show red, and he folds the knife back up. He wraps his cut in one of the handkerchiefs from his back pocket, the one without grease on it.

"Here," Lizzy says to him, handing over the bottle of cleanser and the holy water so he can do the same to her.

Dean just looks at her. "I know it's you."

"Dean," she warns, forehead wrinkled as he shouldn't be so careless about this. She jiggles the bottles in hand for him to take. When he doesn't move and just stands there, shaking his head no, she sighs. "Fucking ridiculous," Lizzy mutters as she douses the back of her hand with borax and follows it up with holy water. "Come on."

Her words are impatient as she holds out her hand to him, asking for the knife back. He knows he has no choice and does as she wants. Lizzy cuts her arm just like he did and proves who she is. She then folds the knife back up and pockets it, pulling out a handkerchief just like Dean did out of her back pocket and wrapping her cut up. When done she drops her arms to the side and just looks at him, her expression finally softening from the hard, edgy one she pulled up with.

"Can I?" Dean asks, making sure she's alright now, and when she nods he doesn't take more than a second to step forward and lock her into a crushing hug, looking to feel complete once more.

As Lizzy hugs back as hard as she can, making sure he's real and that this whole thing is real, they stay silent. It was just days ago that they saw each other and no new words are needed. There's just a real, very tangible sense of comfort and safety within that embrace and it's been so damn long since they've both felt that.

Lizzy pulls back from the hug only a little, a hand at the back of his neck and the other on the side of his jaw. Still pressed against him, she looks him over. He looks incredibly good. Rested, unburdened… he looks better than he has in years, maybe even better than when they first met.

But Dean doesn't see the same from his wife. She's exhausted, he can see it in her deep set eyes with dark circles under them. Her hair is a mess, the old blonde she dyed it half grown out, and overall she's thin, worn, yet the muscle she built surviving that monster wasteland is impressive.

Lizzy smiles at him when she's seeing her man in such good shape. She's not surprised when the grin isn't returned. She's aware of the condition she's in. She ignores that reaction.

"Where is he?" Lizzy has to know, dying to see her son.

"Napping," Dean tells her, grabbing her hand in his. "Where's Cass?"

Lizzy's entire face pales with the question. He mouth opens to answer but shuts when her voice doesn't come out.

That's all Dean needs to know for right now. Whatever she can't manage to tell him isn't good. She's clearly alone as she makes it back to the cabin so Dean leaves it for now, assuming the worst and shoving off to the back burner. He just nods once, keeping the utter pain and sorrow locked up deeply for now. "Come on."

Leading the way, not saying another word, Dean brings her through the cabin to the nearly closed door of Sammy's temporary bedroom. Dean gives her a look, silently asking her to be quiet, and pushes the door open.

Lizzy presses a hand to her mouth the second she sees her little boy laying there fast asleep. She starts to cry, trying to muffle the sound with her hand, and her grip nearly crushes Dean's hand.

He's out, serenely napping with his little face, the one that looks more and more like his father, smooshed to the pillow. His dark hair is already sticking up wildly and she just can't believe how damn old he is.

Dean knew it was coming and he instantly turns her towards him, pulling her close. Another tight hug as she laments the year she lost with her family. Dean knows how much this is killing her without her ever having to tell him. He just knows.

"He's so old," she cries out in a whisper, the pain coming from deep in her chest.

"You're here now," Dean whispers back directly in her ear as he ducks his head down. "Nothing else matters anymore. You're here."

"I missed it all…."

"I have hours of videos. You won't miss anything," he tries to comfort her.

"He doesn't know me," Lizzy spills her biggest fear. A year gone and Sammy has no memories of her.

"But he will," Dean says with all certainty. "He will. And he'll love you, momma."

"What if he doesn't?" she sobs, truly scared.

Dean gives her a hurt look. "He already does. Whether he knows it or not."

Her chin quivering, her eyes still spilling over, Lizzy looks up at Dean.

He forces a smile onto his face as she cries and he kisses her forehead. "Nap time," he says, nodding to the big bed Sammy's alone on. "Let's go. You're cooked."

Dean lets her go for the moment as he walks into the room. He kicks his shoes off and walks to the bed silently. He then pulls the blankets back and scoots Sammy over, the boy whining a bit in his sleep as he does. But Dean works with confidence, knowing exactly how to handle his son in a way that won't wake him.

And Lizzy can feel her heart explode with love and break with longing to be in that place with Sammy, just like Dean is. All the time lost makes her feel like an outsider.

Once Sammy's moved way over to the side of the bed closest to the wall, Dean looks at Lizzy and nods for her to get in. She gets anxious almost as she unties her combat boots. Once she pulls them off, she takes her time moving across the room to her husband. He nods once, encouraging her, and Lizzy eases herself into bed. She remains cautious, moving very slowly because she knows that if Sammy woke now to a stranger that close to him it'd freak him out.

Laying down, Lizzy scoots in close to her son. She can't stop herself from running her fingers through his hair and down his face, the handsome little man he's become just too much for her. Testing her luck, Lizzy pulls an arm around her boy and holds him closer, tucking that sweet face under her chin. In his sleep she can feel him moving closer to her, a hand fisting into her shirt a little and she has to bite her cheek to keep from crying. She has to make this moment last. When Sammy wakes up the confusion will start and Sammy won't be so willing to let her this close, not for a while she's guessing.

This is too beautiful to waste.

And when the mattress behind her dips and she feels her husband behind her, an arm snaking around both her and Sammy, everything is just as it should be. This is everything she fought for. This is what drove her to survive and get out.

This is her world again. It's perfect.

Fun Fact:

Urban Dictionary defines a Zorro Mask as the following: The act of slapping a girl across the face with your cock in the shape of a Z then proceeding to spunk on her face. Example: Bronek gave that bitch a Zorro Mask!

So, when Dean Winchester says, "Yeah, well there's times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask. That don't make it a good idea.", I have to wonder if the writers really researched that sexual slang term BEFORE they wrote the episode. If so... wow, Dean. You like pissing off girls in a very interesting way to get off! I might be impressed with how specific your kinkier needs are. DAMN!