A/N

I'm realizing that I was waaaay too ambitious when I decided that I could update this story weekly. I'm definitely working on it and excited to share more as soon as I have it ready, but I'm not going to promise any specific update days. Nevertheless, I have another chapter for you! Thanks a million to everyone who's read, followed, and especially reviewed. I love feedback and have a thick skin, so feel free to share your thoughts freely. And if you have an idea for something you'd like to see in the story, let me know. I've got a story arc, but am still sketching in some details. Also really curious to find out if there is more interest in Dean/Lisa or Destiel, because I am torn between the possibilities for both. Hope everyone is staying sane and safe in quarantine!

Cheers,

Norah

...

The next day

Dean was driving way over the speed limit, with Lisa in the front seat of the Impala. Ben stretched out in the back. Cas was following behind in his pimpmobile. Dean had spent the past day and a half barking orders at Lisa and Ben to get their stuff and get in his car, to safety. To the bunker. Then had to apologize for being a dick. To everybody. He also got an earful from Sammy on the phone, about his behavior. His brother had talked to Cas about Dean to find out "where your head was at" and had come to the conclusion that Dean was being a drill sergeant and displaying general dickishness from. The more sanctimonious Winchester had then taken this as an opportunity to lecture Dean about not turning into their father. So that was special, because all Dean needed right now was a self-righteous brother who thought he knew everything about everything, including their dad. As if Sam understood John Winchester better than Dean did.

They were closing in on Lebanon. Thirty miles out. Twenty minutes at Dean's current speed. With the luck of freaking Hercules back, he knew he wouldn't get pulled over. His life sucked most of the time, like ninety-nine percent, but he could drive like a bat out of hell without consequences, and damn if that didn't feel good. Windows down, wind in everybody's hair. Who cared if Lisa complained about her hairdo? Dean felt free. And now, with Ben and Lisa and the need to protect them with every bone of his body, he had something else to worry about. Something not related to whether or not to forgive Jack, or let's face it, whether or not to lie and say he forgave the son of Satan for killing his mom. Even if said son of Satan was a puppy dog not a monster. He'd killed Dean's freaking mom.

"I'm still not sure what you expect me to do when we get there," Lisa was saying. She was pissed about the relocation thing. She didn't seem to care, enough at least, that God might be gunning for them. Oh, no, Lisa Braeden had classes lined up, women just dying to do yoga. Yoga! This was more important than being tailed by God? She ran her own place, had girls who depended on her for paychecks. She didn't need to go to any bunker. Really, if Dean thought about it, this girl might be crazier than he was. She was certainly a wildcat in the sack. If memory served. It had been so many years, but oh god, she was bendy.

Dean shrugged for the millionth time. "Maybe you set up shop in Lebanon. Who knows, could be all sorts hicks want to get bendy, but they just never thought about it. With my luck, we get you set up with a tidy little income."

Lisa snorted.

"Luck of the heroes, Lis. And, there's Wi-Fi at the bunker," he said.

"You've told me."

"People in town are nice. At home, you can read up on any monster or demon or angel thing that interests you," he said. "You like to read."

"Detective novels. The occasional literary fiction."

"Demons ain't romantic enough for you? You can talk to Sam about his torrid affair with a demon, that's juicy. And there was a surprise twist. Arthur Conan Doyle would approve."

Lisa rolled her eyes. But Ben had perked up. Dean could almost feel his perkiness. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Dean noticed the kid sitting up. "Really? You'll let me read all about that stuff?"

"Really. Huge freaking library."

"And you'll let me be a hunter?"

"No!" Dean and Lisa almost shouted, at the exact same time. "Sorry kid," Dean said. "Me and your mom, we're on the same page on that one. Exact. Same. Freaking page."

"Dad, please."

That one word. It cut him right to his heart, and it wouldn't let go.

"Dad, seriously."

It was weird, how quickly Ben had taken to calling him that word. Like fifteen kinds of crazy.

His phone rang. Dean pulled it out of his pocket. Into the phone, he said, "What?"

"Don't you have Bluetooth?" Lisa asked.

Dean gave her a look that was meant to say, you are fucking crazy. "What about the words 67 Chevy Impala do you not understand?" he said.

"Dean, we've got a situation." Sammy. Great. He always loved it when calls began like this.

"It's not safe," Lisa was saying. "I'm sure you could get it installed."

Dean barked out a laugh. "I ain't douching up my baby."

Sam's voice was way too high. "What's going on? What's not safe?"

"Apparently Lisa thinks it's not safe to talk on the phone when I've got the wheel. She wants me to put Bluetooth in Baby."

Sam laughed. "You are so whipped."

"I told her no way."

"You even talking to her about Bluetooth, you're whipped."

"Shut it," Dean snapped. Then he remembered the 'situation.' "What's going on, Sammy?"

"Jack is levitating."

Dean cocked his head to the side, considering. "That's weird."

"You think?"

"Is that Uncle Sam?" Ben piped up.

Dean laughed in spite of himself. "By the way, Sammy, Ben is totally on board with being a Winchester, so be prepared to be called uncle."

"He's not calling you Dad, is he?" There was something odd in Sam's voice, like he was meant to be saying this in a jokey way, but it was uncomfortable, like he was uncomfortable with Dean's newfound paternity. Did he not want Ben to be Dean's kid?

"Oh, yes he is."

Sam started laughing. Then he stopped. "What am I supposed to do about Jack?"

Dean laughed. "Honestly, Sam. I think Jack levitating is the least of our problems right now." Sam was off today. Since when did he get all hot and bothered over Jack displaying weird powers?

#

Lisa had taken over the kitchen, claiming that she needed something to do with her hands. She'd sent Cas out on a grocery run, and when he returned with buckets of groceries, she set to making chili. It smelled amazing.

Dean was chopping jalapenos for her. He brought over the cutting board. "Satisfactory?"

"Very. Where did you learn to chop vegetables like that? It's very precise. You never used to do that."

Dean smirked. "The hunter life does have its down time. And every motel has a TV."

"So you watch cooking shows?"

"In between erotic anime and Scooby Doo. Especially since we got our own place."

Lisa laughed.

Dean grabbed two beers from the fridge. "I know you're freaked."

"That's an understatement."

"I just want you to know, I ain't letting anything bad happen to you. Or," and he paused but said it anyway, "or to our son. You hear me?"

She nodded. "It's just. A lot. You know? Monsters are one thing, but God? The God. Like, what if God wants to kill my son?"

Dean popped the lids off the beers and handed one to her. She gulped half of it down. "Easy there," he said. "You know I'm sorry, right?"

"It's not your fault."

"It is."

Lisa grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Dean, it's not. You didn't ask for this. You were raised in it. Your mother, everything. And it sounds like they, He, whatever, had a plan for you, always. I don't think you ever had a choice, other than how to handle yourself. And Dean, you handled yourself, you saved the world. Multiple times."

"It's not as heroic as it all sounds. Believe me."

"Dean! Ben wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. The changelings. All those kids, they'd be dead."

He sighed and started chopping garlic. "I'm still sorry."

"I know."

There was a ruckus in the library. Dean and Lisa sprinted to find Ben standing over Sam, who'd fallen out of his chair. "Really, dude? The clutsy thing came back?"

Sam looked embarrassed, sprawled out on the floor. A big sheepish lump. But underneath the sheepishness, there was something else in his expression. Hard to pin down. But Dean could tell his brother was worried. Again, weird as a whatever Jack was doing probably was, Sam's reaction was over the freaking top.

Ben bit his lip. "Uh, that weird kid is kind of glowing."

Dean looked up at Jack who was now floating on the ceiling and glowing. Not like he was about to smite anybody. It was actually kind of pretty. "Hey Jack! What the hell's going on?"

Sam cleared his throat and gave Dean a look that was clearly supposed to mean something, but all Dean could focus on was the suspicion all over Sam's face. Sam didn't trust Jack, or at least not in this particular moment.

"I don't know. But I was just talking to Ben, and feeling happy, and then I was up here again, and then it was like this light was in me. Ben is my family now, too? Right? You said family doesn't end with blood. If you're my family, then he is. Like a brother?"

Dean wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

But Ben seemed positively delighted. "I'm thinking it's more like a cousin thing. You know, Dad, this is actually getting kind of fun. Like, he's the son of Lucifer, but we can hang out."

Dean thought he might be sick. As much as he was trying to give Jack a chance, he wasn't liking the idea that his kid, yes, more and more Ben was Dean's kid, wanted to buddy up to the kid who'd killed his own grandmother, for fuck's sake. And was also, possibly, more powerful than God. Yeah, Dean would be a whole more okay if Ben could go find a different cousin type of person to hang around. Not that there was any blood-related cousin available, as far as Dean knew.

"It's nice because he's family, but he's not old," Jack was saying.

"I'm not old!" Dean snapped.

Sam laughed, pushing himself off the ground with a slight groan. "We kind of are, dude."

Jack managed to land on the floor, though he was still glowing. "I tried to make friends with some kids in town. But then there was an accident and one of them had a knife in her stomach. And it was my fault, though I didn't mean for anything bad to happen."

"What?" Sam and Dean snapped at the same time.

Jack smiled, a freaking beatific smile, and said, "I healed her. She was just fine," as if that made everything better. Then he looked sad all of a sudden. That innocent sad look. Like he was freaking three. Which, in a way he was. "But they didn't understand. They thought I was bad. They told me to go away from them. It would be nice to have a friend who wasn't old. And I promise to not let any knives anywhere near Ben."

Dean shut his eyes, counted to ten, and then began yelling at Jack. Lisa grabbed his arm, telling him to calm down, but he shook her off. This wasn't about Mary, or any of the big stuff. This was just about the kid doing something so freaking stupid. Knives!

#

Dean was lounging on his bed, on top of the covers, dressed only in his boxers and robe. Laptop open, legal pad beside him. He picked up his phone and started dialing hunters until somebody picked up. "Bobby." Alternate Bobby, but the man had his surrogate father's brain, and he was a good guy, so Dean trusted him with a lot. "Yeah. Look, man, I need you to track something down for me. You got a pen?" Dean was hammering out the instructions when his door opened. Lisa stuck her head through the door. She was wearing an old t-shirt and yoga pants. Thank god for yoga pants, was all Dean could think of. He moved some papers off the spot next to him and patted the bed. She sat down, squeezed his hand, smiling faintly. Then she opened a book. She'd brought a book with her? To his bed?

"Yeah, thanks, man. You're a lifesaver. Me?" Dean asked. Lisa put on a pair of reading glasses. That was a new thing. But she looked sexy, like a hot librarian. "Look, I gotta go. You check in though, you hear? Yeah, yeah, be safe."

Then there was Jodie, who was struggling to help Kaia adapt to life in the "regular" world.

And Claire, who was struggling to not drive Kaia away. Also she had the fool idea to take on a vamp nest alone.

And Jodie again. She was keeping an extra close eye on Claire, and had a plan for raiding the nest, together. Didn't matter if Claire got a foolish notion in her head, Jodie was on it.

Dean hung up the phone and glanced at Lisa, who was lost in her book. Which looked to be a paperback novel. "Good book?" he asked.

"Very." Still reading.

"Real page-turner?"

"Uh, huh."

Dean frowned at her damned book. "Are we really at the point where you bring a book to bed? And are you coming to ... What're you doing, Lis?"

"Ben's passed out. I thought I'd stay with you tonight."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "But you brought a book? You want to go straight to boring? Last time, it was a few months before we got that boring."

She giggled. "We were never boring."

"We were a little boring. There were barbecues. I went on milk runs for your sister and the baby."

"I think you have a very, very low bar for what you think boring is," she said with a full-on laugh.

Dean sighed. "But this is the very first night and you brought a freaking book to bed?"

Lisa pointed at his sloppy pile of work stuff. "You're the one with the laptop, and papers and notebooks spread all over the bed. I figured you'd be busy, and I might need something to do. Looks like I was right."

"You knew I'd be working?"

She smiled. "I know you."

He closed the laptop, slid it onto the bedside table, then grabbed the papers and stuck them on top of the computer, in no particular order. He scooted closer to her, ran his arm along her mostly bare arm. Leaned in, pulled aside her hair ever so gently, and went right for the neck, letting his tongue play on that sensitive skin, running in little circles. Giving her shivers.

She laughed and pretended to swat him away, but he was going at her, nothing stopping him, she was so damned Lisa. She kept reading the book, or tried to, but he couldn't leave her alone. This woman he'd dreamed about for years, but only in the moments when he'd lost all his composure, all his walls. She'd been a picture in his mind. Another life. Another him. What might have been possible. If he'd been normal. She was that life he'd had, really had, for long enough to understand what it was. For it to hurt when he lost it, and for Dean to understand what it was that he was losing. What he walked away from. And yeah, his skin had been itching half the time he'd lived with her, he'd wanted back into the life, he'd felt like a fraud in suburbia. But then there'd been so many moments with her, so many little moments of casual intimacy.

After a minute or two Lisa giggled and let the book fall to the side. She sank into him, and Dean let his whole body fall apart as he gave himself over to her, slowly, patiently, like he had all the time in the world to be in love with her.

He didn't simply fuck her. He ravaged her sweetly, adoring and appreciating her, entering her and kissing her with real affection. It wasn't just like fucking an old girlfriend, it was like having drinks with an old friend, and when he came, the same moment that she did, it was like coming home.

He slept naked. She kept her shirt on. He decided not to comment on it. They were in their forties after all. If she was going to be all worried about her body not being perfect, well, he was scarred in so many ways, he could commiserate.

#

"Dean!" A raspy voice was yelling somewhere, bringing him out of a deep sleep. Lisa just whimpered and burrowed into his shoulder. Having her here in his bed, in his home, in his real life (not hers but his), made him feel safe, ridiculously so. And just good. Like she could know the real Dean Winchester, and not run screaming. Because she hadn't yet. Even when Jack was levitating and mouthing off about accidentally knifing some kid.

Dean didn't want to move. Ever. But he knew he had to. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes as the angel's voice yelled, apparently set on waking up the whole house. "Sam! Where are you guys?"

Dean squinted at the clock beside him. It was hard to focus on anything this early. Five in the freaking morning. He was going to kill Cas.

Still naked, he extricated himself from Lisa's lovely arms, pulled on his boxers, grabbed his robe and pulled it tight around him, tying the sash as he tiptoed out of the room. He closed his door as gently and soundlessly as he could. There was the angel, looking like this early morning visit, waking Dean up, was no big deal. Totally casual.

"Cas!" Dean whispered, but sort of shouted the whisper. He held up a finger to his lips. "You gotta be quiet."

Cas, dressed as always in slacks, white dress shirt, and trench coat—his hair extra windswept—looked confused. "Why?"

Dean sighed. "For one thing, it's five in the freaking morning. Humans. Need. Sleep." But weirdly he felt awkward about the situation. Lisa just behind that door, wearing nothing but a t-shirt. Looking into Castiel's blue, blue eyes, taking in the man/angel/whatever's slender but nevertheless powerful build underneath the trench coat, Dean felt a flickering of something. Something about Cas that always unnerved him when it surfaced, and something he certainly didn't understand. A warmth that was not quite brotherly. Dean pushed the flicker down.

Cas shook his head, dismissing the idea of morning. "There has been a surge of power. Divine power."

"Chuck?"

"It appears so, but there is a ... complication."

Dean sighed. "Can the complication wait until seven?"

Cas shook his head, expression going from bemused to grim.

"Can it wait until I've had coffee?"

"Dean, I fear there is something at work, which will disrupt all of our lives," Cas said.

Dean rolled his eyes. When wasn't there something at work that was threatening to disrupt his life?

But now a door creaked open, startling Dean. Ben's head peeked out of a door down the hall. He was rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, like a child, and staring at Cas like his reentrance was exciting because Cas was something exciting to Ben, clearly, maybe magical. Dean supposed he was.

The angel frowned. "Your offspring has poor timing."

"You know," the kid said to Cas, "You've got a freaking weird way of talking."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "And how do you know that it's not you who 'talks weird'?" Air quotes. Always with the air quotes.

Dean laughed and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "The thing to remember about angels," he told Ben in as quiet a voice as would carry down the hall, "is that most of them act like aliens. And most of them are dicks. Not Cas here, anymore, but in general, be wary."

"I wouldn't say that's fair." Cas launched into a pedantic little lecture. "I do vastly prefer humans. However, angels are simply different from humans, and we may not have control over this being 'dicks' issue. Angels are not permitted to question, to be anything but soldiers. Do you know that I just watched a documentary on racism and the civil rights movement in America? It was quite illuminating. I think you may be discriminating towards angels." Cas had this look about him, all innocent and condescending at the same time.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Like I was trying to say, Cas used to be a dick, but he got over it. Mostly." He grinned. But that odd flicker returned, deep within his bones, and when Dean looked at Cas he felt almost shy.

Swallowing down whatever the hell that was, Dean turned back to his kid. "Now that you've had this bonding moment with a celestial being," Dean said. "You can go back to bed, kiddo. We've got business to discuss."

Ben stood there. Stubborn and looking like he was about to be belligerent. Daring his father to say something. Dean couldn't imagine looking at his father like that, ever.

"I'm not asking," Dean said. "Business."

"I thought it was the family business."

Dean sighed. "Sorry, kid. Back to bed."

"But, Dad!"

"Don't 'but Dad' me. Your room. Now. You can come out when it's breakfast time. I'll make something, let you know." Glaring at Cas, he said, "And you. You can apologize for storming in here all loud and obnoxious, waking people up."

Cas smiled at the boy. "It is very nice to see you again, Benjamin. And I look forward to learning all about you. But your, let's see, your father is right. You should return to your room. Perhaps sleep more because –" and he put air quotes up as a he said, " 'Humans. Need. Sleep.' " Dean and the kid both smirked. "I am sorry for the early hour."

Dean's son looked at him again, eyes begging to stay up. His puppy dog eyes were even better than Sammy's. Or worse, depending on how you looked at it.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Back to bed." When the kid still didn't move, he made his voice brusquer. "Now!"

Ben rolled his eyes but turned around and slipped back into his room, shutting the door quietly at least.

Dean motioned Cas toward the kitchen. He put on a pot of coffee. As he rummaged for breakfast food in the fridge, he said, "So what's the emergency?"

"Need I remind you that I raised you from perdition?"

Dean sighed as he grabbed a pound of bacon and a carton of eggs. He found two skillets and was blearily reaching for a bowl to scramble eggs when Cas was at his shoulder, a mug of steaming hot coffee in his hand. "Have some caffeine," his friend said gruffly.

Dean took the mug and sipped, careful not to scald himself. Black with just the right amount of sugar. "So what's going on, man?"

"This burst of energy has a very specific frequency. I believe Chuck is preparing for the end."

Dean sighed as he drank the coffee, desperate to be awake for this conversation. Honestly, desperate for the conversation to just go away because the end of the world being imminent, it just seemed too impossible to even think about. Dean was just a man. Just an ordinary man.

Sam wandered into the kitchen, nodding a greeting at Cas and pouring himself a cup of coffee, then rummaging in the fridge for cream.

"The end," Cas repeated, as if that was supposed to clear everything up.

Sam's brows rose, higher than seemed reasonable. He seemed wide awake. "Did Cas wake you up too?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "I was out for a run."

"Now?"

"Is there a better time?"

Dean stared into his coffee. Running. Why would anyone do that on purpose? Running from monsters. Sure, whatever, a man did what he had to do. Running for exercise, total insanity.

"According to the lore," Sam said, "The end of the world would spark a very specific energy signal."

Dean threw a bunch of bacon in a skillet and it began to sizzle. He pushed it around with a spatula, then poured in the eggs, letting them scramble. More sizzling. The sound of cooking, the whole process of it, was soothing somehow.

"I think the boy is meant to play some role," Cas asked, standing far too close to Dean and peering down at the bacon.

"Personal space, dude," Dean snapped, as those flickers threatened to pierce the surface again. "Personal freaking space."

Cas stepped back a half step. "Are you going to talk to him about the possibility?"

Dean shrugged and tried to concentrate on cooking. Dean could practically feel the heat from his friend's body. He was still so close, and this was becoming awkward. He didn't know why, but it did feel harder to talk to Cas about Lisa and his son, harder than it was to talk to Sam about this. "Dude, could you, uh, be useful? Get some plates? Forks? Sammy, how about some toast?"

Sam began poking around the bread drawer. "Look, Cas, I'm glad you're here," his brother said. "I'm worried about Jack."

"He's getting stronger," the angel said.

But Sam shook his head. "Not my point, man. I still don't ... look, this isn't about Mom. I don't know if I can forgive him, tell him what he wants to hear and mean it. But this isn't about Mom. Or my feelings. Or Dean's," he glanced at Dean. Dean nodded. Jack's role in the universe was separate from their family drama. "There's just something about him. Even with his soul back. I still don't trust Billie. She's a wild card. I don't think she's on anybody's side except her own and her particular idea about balance. But, look, not to be harsh about this, because I love the kid, but I'm not sure I trust Jack."

Dean couldn't disagree. But he also didn't think he could talk about this without losing his shit.

After what felt like a lifetime of the angel just frigging standing there, staring at Dean as he pushed the bacon and eggs around in their pans, Castiel finally moved towards the cupboard.

"How many plates are needed?" the angel asked.

"Six if you're eating," Dean said, his voice gruff.

"Food is often disappointing now, after being human for that brief time, but I'll try it anyway."

Sam smirked. "Don't worry, Dean'll eat your table scraps. He's as good as a dog."

Dean glared at his brother before cocking his head to the side, considering, and saying, "He's not wrong. Though Sammy's mostly just being a dick."

"But I thought angels were dicks. Now Sam is one too?" Cas was messing with him now, trying to be funny. It was almost cute.

"There are lots of dicks in this world."

A throat clearing behind him. Spatula in hand, Dean swiveled to look at Lisa. Bedhead. T-shirt rumpled. Sexy yoga pants hugging her in just the right ways. "Morning," she said, then made a beeline for the coffee. Something about her expression was tighter, more guarded than the night before. She was probably just tired. "What's going on?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. She came up to him and kissed him lightly on the lips before taking the bacon spatula from him and flipping each strand of bacon in turn, moving them lightly around the skillet with care and practiced ease. She was standing so close to him. It was nice. It was familiar. All those years ago. Over three hundred days together in the kitchen, getting breakfast together, rushing Ben out the door for school or summer camp. A monotony of mornings. The kind of mornings he'd never had, not since the age of four.

"So," Lisa said after a while, now lining a plate with paper towels and tossing the bacon on the toweled plate, to drain. "Why doesn't Sam trust Jack? And what on Earth could this have to do with your mother?"

Dean groaned, realizing that he'd told Lisa about the whole my-mom-came-back-from-the-dead-and-then-got-killed-again-by-Jack, because it was just too hard to talk about Mary, and it seemed like there wasn't a point of getting into the pain and the melodrama of it. And most of all, he didn't want another person to look at him with sympathy, or worse, pity.