A/N: Sorry, guys... something happened when I was uploading the new chapters - not sure what - and a couple of chapters got deleted. i had to reload the whole story. Anyway, it's all here now.

Thanks for reading, and please review...


the storms outside…

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end of days…

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"Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning…"

Psalm 30:5

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The world had, quite literally, gone to hell.

Reverting to animal instinct, people fled their homes in panic as a rush of earthquakes ripped up the continent. Freak storms lashed at the land like forces of unholy vengeance.

There was death in the streets, as fear morphed into sudden and terrible violence.

Brother slew brother.

Friend killed friend.

And the earth descended into chaos and darkness.

As Lisa Braeden watched the horror unfolding through the flickering images on her television, she found herself having the strangest thought.

The world's ending, and Fox News is still going… If that isn't a sign of the apocalypse, I don't know what is.

The picture wavered briefly, before the VTR cut to a composed and – God help us all, still smiling – anchorman in studio. He explained briefly that the images the viewer was about to see would offend those of a sensitive nature.

Lisa almost laughed – as if anything they'd shown for the past 48 hours wouldn't offend just about everyone.

She almost laughed.

The feed cut to footage recorded on a hand-held camera, most likely a cellphone, sent in by a person who refused to be named.

It was sick beyond imagining.

A school bus had overturned in Jericho, Pennsylvania. Dozens of screaming, frightened children were trapped inside as flames started to lick at the upholstery once the engine caught fire. A squad of locals approached the bus and smashed in the windows. But then…

Then, instead of helping the trapped children to safety, the townspeople tore them apart.

The person recording the incident didn't try to help. In fact, Lisa caught the distinct sound of laughter coming from behind the lens.

There was so much blood.

Suppressing a shock of angry tears, Lisa switched off the TV. She shut her eyes, and offered up a quick prayer of thanks that Ben was safe – packed off to her parents who lived high in the mountains bordering Alaska. They didn't even have a television, so Ben would be spared the knowledge of what was happening in the world outside.

Yes, her son was safe, but he wouldn't be, she knew, if not for Dean Winchester.

When Dean had showed up at her door two years ago, it would be safe to say that Lisa was surprised. Sure, in those quiet moments in the middle of the night when Ben was asleep, when the only warmth she could draw on was a pillow which she huggedto herself, she had hoped he would come back.

Her memories of Dean Winchester were scattered, fragmented and confusing, to say the least.

Dean was supposed to be just another regret in a string of one-night stands. Lisa's taste in men left a lot to be desired, but she had her reasons, and they made sense to her.

A fear of commitment, of attachment, had led her to seek her pleasure in the company of men who were more than willing to spend the night, so long as they could sneak out in the morning.

That way there were no expectations, and no chance of being disappointed. It was simple, and it worked… for a time.

But Dean was different.

There was a depth to him that Lisa had sensed in the stillness of her bedroom while they held each other, during that first weekend ten years ago.

Lisa never told him this, but Dean had cried that first night.

After he'd slipped into his tormented dreams, he'd moaned and cried out – names and meaningless words, once in Latin – and the tears had escaped without him waking.

Not knowing what else to do, Lisa had wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close like a mother comforting a trembling child, and the nightmares stopped.

The next morning, Dean was Dean again.

Snarky, sarcastic, with that gleam of the devil bouncing in his bright, beautiful eyes.

And when he walked out the door, Lisa had convinced herself that she would never see him again.

She was wrong. Eight years later, Dean was back.

And this time, he saved Ben - the reason Lisa went on living.

She had meant every word when she told him he could stay. She remembered the spark of hope that had lit in his eyes as he considered it. But he'd quashed it, and she saw the mask – of duty and regret – slip into place as he said: "I can't… I got a lot of work to do, and it's not my life…"

When he showed up again two weeks ago, the Dean she knew had disappeared.

This Dean was harder, more jaded, with a sadness in him that leaked out like blood from a wound. His words, which should have awakened in her the promise of… something. A future, perhaps… Had instead flamed the fear that she would never know joy with him.

"Look, I have no illusions, okay? I know the life that I live… I know how that's going to end for me. Whatever, I'm okay with that. But I wanted you to know, that when I do picture myself happy… it's with you…"

Grief powered those words.

Lisa had been looking at a man who'd come to the end of a long road. A road that had taken him to the heart of darkness. A road he was staring back, picturing the stops along the way, and hoping, praying maybe, for just glimmer of happiness. Even happiness lost.

Dean Winchester had warned her that the end of days was coming.

Now the end of days was here, and Lisa had a decision to make.

She unfurled a piece of paper lying on the table in front of her. On the paper, scrawled in her own hand, was an address and a phone number. The number was discontinued, but the house would still be there. Lisa had to believe that she could find something there. A clue, a lead, anything that could help.

Dean had saved Ben's life, twice now.

And while she could convince herself that that was her reasoning for what she would do next, she also knew that she was fooling herself.

There was a deeper meaning. A truth, buried in a heart torn almost to breaking over the years. That night when she'd held him, Lisa had felt at peace in his arms. And he, in turn, had found peace in hers.

That's why he needed her now.

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